With other options running low, and the others seemingly having a better handle of the situation, Luthor hurried to Laliytsas side. Stopping only a moment to examine the wound, he quickly placed a glowing palm to it, relieving some of the pain. "Hold still if you can." He said, looking up at her with a dry smile. "I may have magical healing abilities but I dont know much about how to apply it properly. Lets hope nothing needs setting."
Daen's blade cuts a shallow line across the boar's thick-hided back, but Laliytsa's arrow is much more successful, driving deep into its shoulder.
It squeals loudly, wheeling and running up the path for the nearest good-sized thorn-patch.
Daen was actually surprised that the pig ran off. It was so fierce up until that point that he didn't respond to the fact that it was fleeing until it was well on it's way. But being practical, there were other things on his mind as well. Speaking up after the boar was gone, "Does anyone know how to prepare pig? It would be a shame to waste this meat."
Releasing a sigh of relief, Luthor quickly perked up at Daens words, rubbing his hands together. "Oh, you have a point there Daen." He looked at Laliytsa with a smile, slightly marred by concern for her wound which did no look fully healed. "Im sure Laliytsas mastery of field-craft will suffice for an admirably cooked meal."
Turning to look up the path, he pointed at the sleeping boar. "It wont sleep forever. Do we leave it or slay it?"
Kaz allows the boar to retreat, dismounting once it's gone and inspecting his mount's wound. "You did well, old friend," he murmurs, stroking Surefoot's nose reassuringly. "I'm sorry that happened." Glancing over at Luthor, he asks, "That magic you've worked on us... does it only work on people? Would it be too much trouble to request it for my friend here?"
Sighing, he runs a hand through his hair, looking sheepish. "It appears we almost got in over our heads there. I didn't realize how tenacious those beasts can be. Though it appears we had some help from a friend, didn't we?" He raises his voice slightly for this last, looking around for Perlivash.
"I cant say ive ever used it on an animal." Luthor said, looking thoughtful as he searched his memory. "I mean, Rikka has gotten in a few scrapes I had to heal, but shes hardly an average animal, plus she is connected to me." He walked up to Surefoot, patting its flank. "I can certainly try though."
Letting Luthor finish his healing of the horse, Daen pondered the question he'd posed earlier. "If we can run it off, I'd rather it lived. If we killed it, we wouldn't be able to preserve it and the other we've already killed. I don't like waste, I just don't know if we can get it to run off as well." Turning to Laliytsa, and also to their fey friends if they happen to be in sight, he asked them "If we startle it awake, will it run or will it fight?" He had to admit to himself at least that his knowledge of the woodland animals was a bit lacking.
In answer, Laliytsa shrugs. Perli shimmers back into existence off to the side, perched on a thorny branch. He pants, catching his breath, and those standing near him catch the whiff of cinnamon again. Tyg-Titter-Tut's voices comes from above, and the shimmer of her wings reveals her location nearly 20 feet from the ground on a thick branch.
"Whooo-eeee! That was not a healthy amount of blood to lose, biginses. These was just little grumpy-pigs. I thiiiiink if you wake it up, it'll leave, but I'm not exaaaactly sure. Ah well, may as well try it!" She looks at Perli, who flaps a wing, nods his head slowly, and flies back over to Kazimir's head.
Kazimir sighs in relief as Luthor's magic heals his faithful companion. The old horse seems to appreciate it as well, bumping his nose against the man's cheek. "I appreciate that. He's been a faithful friend for many years now, and I'd hate to lose him out here," the paladin says quietly, offering a bashful smile.
At Daen's pondering, and their friends' input, he nods. "Let's startle it awake, then. I think I'm best-off right now, so shall I do it?"
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Rikka suddenly squeaked from her perch, making her presence felt for the first time in a while. "Whats that?" Luthor asked, craning his neck and tilting his head. Stood like that a moment, his face scrunched into an expression of concentration, he suddenly looked surprised, almost scared. "Are you sure about that? It could be dangerous?" He pointed at Kaz. "Besides Kazimir all but volunteered." Rikka squeaked loudly and nodded vigorously. "Well ok then.
Turning to Kazimir, he held a cupped hand forward, which Rikka promptly scurried onto, sitting almost face to face with the paladin. "Rikka thinks we should back up a bit out of sight, and she will wake it, throw some rocks and such, then hide in a tree."
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Once again, Kaz finds himself taken aback by the small critter, staring at him with intelligent eyes. He glances from Rikka to Luthor and back again, eyes flitting between man and mongoose, before turning his gaze to the ground and rubbing the back of his neck sheepishly.
"Well, that's probably safer," he admits. I didn't even think of that! He rubs the top of Rikka's head with an awkward smile. "Looks like it's up to you then, little friend. Just be careful out there, alright?"
Daen picks up his bow and readies it, drawing a bead on the sleeping pig. If it comes after them again, he'll just have to do what he'd rather not. He also did his best to hide in the brush, so as to not cause the boar to notice. He'll also motion to Laliysta to do the same, but to stay out of sight as best they could. If the pig ran off, they'd save a few arrows and possibly an injury or two. That was the best case scenario.
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Scuttling forward, Rikkas mind was ablaze with excitement and pride. "Ill show them how brave I am!" She thought as she neared the sleeping boar. Looking around for small rocks, acorns, pine cones and whatever other projectiles she could manage, she stored them at the base of a tree, before chucking the first one at the snoring beast. "Cmon you stupid piggy, wake up!"
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Unused to throwing things, it takes Rikka a bit of time to get a toss near the boar. When she finally bounces one off its snout, it awakens, snorting loudly. She clambers her way up a tree as the boar snuffles and sniffs before following the injured boar into the brambles.
This isn't the first boar Laliytsa's killed, though most of the others were with her grandfather and uncle, and they had a plan going in. She's able to expertly butcher the animal, packing its meat away in wrappings made from its hide and storing it in various saddlebags. The process does take a couple of hours, during which time Tyg-Titter-Tut and Perlivash play a game inspired by Rikka's performance. They unleash a rain of pebbles, pine cones, and twigs upon the waiting party, showering them in tiny but harmless missiles.
When the ranger's finally done with the boar, the two fey return to their positions, Perli butting his head into Kazimir's until the scratching continues. Tyg talks nonstop about grumpy-pigs as the party rides on, eventually changing the subject to flicklights and other creatures she's seen in the woodlands. "...And those three was just small grumpy-pigs, Tuskgutter's much, much bigger and meaner. He's bigger, and taller, and faster, and uglier, if you can believe that!"
After another hour of a mild pace, Tyg launches herself from Luthor's lap. "Home home home! You can leave the music-box in the entry-way, I don't think you'd fit any further inside, and the tree's pretty tough to climb." She hop-flies her way over to the base of an enormous fir, fiddling with the moss until a section peels away. In its place is a bright red door, bigger than needed for her but far too small for the party. Perli flies over more serenely, looking back at the party. "This is where we say good-bye. If you need us, this ent a bad place to look, but we ent home too much. Too many things to see and stuff to do!"
The sun's been going down in the west for a few hours, but it seems there's still a couple hours of daylight left. Camp here or push on?
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It's the fourth day since the silver-haired bandit and his men ambushed Lepod, Rask, and you on the road to Oleg's Trading Post. The silver-haired one stepped in front of the dwarf's wagon, stopping the mules, while the other bandits moved forward to take your weapons and secure you, before looting the wagon and setting it ablaze. Rask surrendered without a fight, and why not? As a representative of the Golushkin dwarves in Brevoy, he was guaranteed to be ransomed quickly. The letter he carried said so. Lepod, though, fought tooth and nail. His wounds have started healing, but the bandits have kept him manacled hand and foot, tying him to his mule when he has to ride, and between his beatings, they speak to him of the horrors the Stag Lord will put him through.
Not that your experience with the bandits has been much better. Only one bandit tried to feel you up, and the silver-haired one beat him nearly as savagely as he did Lepod. Every morning, you've been woken roughly and tied to the leader's saddle, where you ride all day. Once camp's set, you're untied and put through your performance for the bandits' entertainment.
Of course, you've learned a bit on your rides. The silver-haired bandit's name is Akiros, and despite his frequent rages, he's usually not a terrible man. He spends most of his time brooding in the saddle behind you or staring off into the darkness at their camps, and it's increasingly obvious he's not happy with something. Whether that something is the guard the scouts saw on Oleg's wall, the corpses at the bandit encampment two days ago, or some other thing is hard to say.
As the sun begins to drop, Akiros's bandits set camp. As usual, the four tents go in a rough circle around a fire, with the horses hobbled off to one side. Still tied to his horse, you get a good view of the area. A beaver dam is sprawled across the wide creek nearby, forming a wide, deep pond, and the creek itself rushes loudly, too fast to cross. The bandits took their horses across the dam, one at a time.
Unlike the other nights, tonight you're not called on to perform. Instead, your hands are kept bound and you're thrown unceremoniously into a tent with the other two prisoners. Guarding you is a man with a shock of carrot-red hair. "Topper" Red, as he's called, was a failure as a poet in the city of Pitax, and he's come to romanticize the bandits' life, but something about a literally captive audience seems to have awoken his talents, or lack thereof. It's only a matter of time before he starts reciting more of his terrible poetry. From outside come the sounds of a heated argument, though the words aren't clear at the moment...
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Daen will spend half his time trying to watch the expert at work, and half the time gathering stones and pinecones to launch counter-offensives with the fey. He may not be particularly good with words, but give him tactics and a battlefield, he'll do well for himself. It was a bit to his disadvantage that he was outnumbered and much larger of a target, but he managed to outfox them from time to time and land some good hits.
After they arrived at the Fey home, Daen speaks up. "We'll drop by sometime, but we don't know when. There's just so many things to do." Addressing the group, Daen pulls out their mapping tools. "We've got a fair bit left to do around these parts, do you want to try to get done what we can before dark or give it a fresh start tomorrow?"
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"An excellent throw, Rikka!" Kaz chuckles as the mongoose scurries back to her perch on Luthor's shoulder. He scratches her head appreciatively, grinning briefly at Luthor, before a pine-cone hits him square in the brow. "Ow! Okay, you'll pay for that!" he laughs, lobbing the missile back at Perlivash and missing horribly. "Okay, maybe not," he mutters, looking away in anticipation of the fey's laughter.
While he's not able to help Laliytsa much, he manages to assist in wrapping the meat, but doesn't dare 'help' her butcher the animal.
The headbutts from Perlivash draw a faint sigh, but he obliges, resuming the chin-scratching. "I know who to come to when I have an itch now," he chuckles. "After all, I'll scratch your back, you'll scratch mine, as the saying goes." Looking over at Tyg, he asks, "So Tuskgutter is another grumpy-pig? Do you know where to find him? I'd like to avoid him if possible, or at least go in prepared."
After bidding goodbye to the fey, he stretches in the saddle, trying to brush his hair down again after Perlivash's ministrations. "We can probably squeeze a bit more time out of the day, but at the same time, I'd prefer we didn't have to fight anything else. Given how hostile these lands seem to be, perhaps we should camp here."
"Well I for my part am out of tricks for the day." Luthor said, looking a little drained as he did so. "I mean I could keep using this healing power I have all day, but it only works on a given person once before I have to give it some time." He shrugged apologetically. "Dont ask me why. Some things just are the way they are, though I bet some cosmic being somewhere has an answer."
Looking around, he shrugged once more. "Im ok with proceeding a little further, but we should make camp soon." He gestured at the tiny hidden door. "This place is probably safe in general since they decided to make their home here though."
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As the bandits toss Cyanne into the tent, the little white mongoose leaps off her, flipping mid-air and chittering furiously as he lands. Cyanne, hands still tied, is nowhere near as graceful as she attempts to roll into the fall.
"Ow..." Cyanne groans. She rolls again over her protesting wrists and slowly edges herself into a sitting position. Then she regrets trying. After four days of being tied in a saddle, her thighs chafe and her butt aches. Tango stands up and chitters again, indignant and worried for her. Cyanne nods, reaching with her bound hands to brush his soft head and comfort him. "Shhh... Tango, we'll be fine."
Her comment is a lie, and Tango knows it, but the little mongoose quiets down and lets her stroke him.
She looks around. Poor Lepod, manacled hand and foot, has curled up protectively around himself, sporting a new black eye and cracked lip. And who knows what hells both he and I will face when this Stag King meets up with us? It's only Akiros's scruples that are keeping me safe. When we meet up with the Stag King, will I be passed around, or traded off like so much chattel?
Meanwhile Rask, the self-satisfied prat, is barely bound, and munches on some good Rostlander cheddar and a roll of dark bread. Cyanne's stomach growls. For the past three days, she has sung and danced for her supper. With no performance tonight, will there be a dinner for her? It seems unlikely.
No performance is a change in routine, and she dislikes what it bodes for her chances. If they're no longer eagerly awaiting the next show, I'll lose social capital. And my nightly chance to stretch my muscles. Though... a change in routine could mean that Akiros and his men are distracted. A sole guard could be fascinated or blinded with glitterdust. She ponders this for a moment with a smile, and then frowns. Yeah, and then what? You're still bound and surrounded. Even if Tango managed to chew through your ropes, you'd still have to sneak away from the bandits, and Volte is hobbled with the other horses. Your chances for a daring solo escape suck.
As the argument grows outside the tent, Cyanne listens intently.
Though she can't make out the words yet, she's trying to figure out who is arguing from the tone and the voices. One of them is likely Akiros, but who in this group would dare argue with that hot-tempered moody man?
Turning to the redhead, she asks, "No performance tonight? What's going on? I was hoping to put the last poem you recited to me to music. You know, the one that begins, 'I'm a plunderer from Pitax?'"
She's not even lying. The poem's so bad, that it had the kind of catchy awfulness that could be comedy gold with the right treatment. Maybe it even had a future as a drinking song. She hums a few notes. From the corner of her eye, she can see Rask shaking his head, and mouthing, NO! Don't encourage him!
She looks back at Rask, and raises an eyebrow. Too bad. He should have shared his cheese earlier. She breaks into a soft song as revenge.
I'm a plunderer from Pitax
I write my verse and I swing my axe....
CHORUS:
He's a plunderer from Pitax
He writes his verse and he swings his axe...
I cut down foes, I eat my lunch
I go on ambush sprees
I like to jump out choppin'
From behind the evergreen trees
At this point, Rask is miming bashing his head against a tent pole, with his eyes rolled up in his head. Yeah, Topper's poetry was beyond awful.
Cyanne pauses, thoughtfully.
"I should be writing this down, scoring it..." She makes to reach for her pouch with the pen and paper, and then looks at her bound wrists as if surprised by them. "Never mind, Topper," she says with a sigh. "I guess we won't be making any progress on your song tonight."
C'mon, Topper, take the bait...
Sure enough, the bandits' meeting outside grows louder, and you can hear Akiros's voice rising above the din. "Look, you rats, the situation's changed, I'll give you that. Armed guards at the trading post, Kressle's band gone without a trace...these aren't good signs, but I didn't see any horses at Kressle's camp. Didn't see Dovan or Auchs there either, so they must've escaped. Now, I'm not going to give the Stag Lord more of the same information he learned from them. He won't like that. So, here's what we're going to do. We'll camp here. Out of the way, we won't get stumbled on and if we do, well, it's a good place to fight. I want four of you lot patrolling the river, groups of two. Don't try to fight, just come back here if you find anything. We find out how many there are, what they're doing, and whether we can take 'em. Then, we kill 'em or go back to the fortress to get more men to do the job." There's a murmur of assent, and his voice rings out again. "You, you, and you two, you're my scouts. Take enough for three days' ride, take the fastest horses, and get moving. Yes, tonight.
As the meeting breaks up and the bandits start getting ready for their various jobs, Topper takes a long pull from a flask, shuddering as it goes down his throat. He passes it to you, wrapping his arms more tightly around your waist, and demands you take a drink. Just as you're about to drink the foul-smelling swill, there's a rustle as the tent-flap opens, and Akiros sticks his head inside. He takes a second to look at Topper's arms wrapped around your midriff and, without saying anything, delivers a mighty slap clean across the bandit's face. [b]"Get out. You're on watch, and she's not to be touched.
For once, it's a quiet night, though clouds and fog hang over the Thorn River. Perlivash stays up for a bit, chatting with the party as they sit down to a boar-meat dinner. [b]"Oh, don't worry. Tuskgutter lives south of here a bit, and he's a homebody anymore. A nice patch of brambles so thick you can barely walk through it, that's where he lives. Course, his skin's thick enough he doesn't care, much."[b]
The watches all go smoothly, with Kazimir's being accompanied by an owl hooting for nearly half an hour, and later, by a large stag, its hide a silvery-brown color that reflects what little moonlight's getting through the fog, on the far side of the river. It seems to nod before turning an bounding silently into the woods. Aside from that, no watches are disturbed, and before too long, the sun begins to burn through the fog.
Daen is up and ready to go at dawn with their extra time. He'd done some practicing the night before, and this morning he was ready to hit the books. Memorizing his fire spell, just in case they were trying to ward off animals, he felt confident in Luthor's healing ability to bring them through. Once they were all ready, having a bit of bacon for breakfast, he spoke up. "We have quite a bit of ground to cover if we're going to get back to Oleg's in time. If everyone's ready, we can go."
As Akiros drags Cyanne into his tent, her heart races. Sure, he said that she was not to be touched, but would he slap her around the way he did Topper? When he simply shoves her into a corner, she sighs with relief, sinking to the floor.
She kneels for a moment, trying to regain control of her ragged breathing, as she warily watches him. Tango rejoins her, the little mongoose a warm and reassuring presence on her shoulder. Though Akiros talked rough with his men, Cyanne was certain that this man hadn't always been a bandit. He knew tactics, strategy, and his speech occasionally slipped naturally into a more formal diction.
Akiros was a mass of contradictions and strangely protective of her. Was it simple chivalry to an apparently young and vulnerable female? He'd made no attempt to feel her up, though riding in the same saddle day after day surely gave him opportunity. Was he attracted to her, and not admitting it?
"Akiros?" Cyanne avoids the honorifics that most bandits would choose for themselves... No 'Milord' or 'Sir' for this man. No military titles either. She's certain that Akiros would prefer straight talk. "Thank you for your assistance back there... with Topper, and your other men. May I ask what your intentions are? Towards Lepod and myself?"
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Luthor had been sitting quietly with Rikka, staring the mongoose in the eyes, the two looking to be almost in a trance. Blinking a few times, seemingly coming out of it, he turned to Daen with a smile. "Let me just finish this and ill be right with you." He said, chewing on the first bite of his meal, which had sat untouched in his lap throughout his interaction with Rikka. Handing Rikka a piece, he quickly began wolfing down his meal.
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Akiros rolls over under his fur blankets, regarding you with a single opened eye. "Intentions mean nothing." He sighs and pulls off his blankets, sitting up. "I'll tell you a story of intentions, about a knight in the service of Ol' Deadeye. He fell in love with a woman and they spent some nights together, but she was married. Her husband found out, she called it rape, and they took it to Erastil's churchmen. When the knight found himself accused, he killed both the husband and the woman he'd loved in his rage. What did his intentions matter? Only his actions were judged by the churchmen, the God, or himself. Damn your 'intentions'. I intend to take you to the Stag Lord's fortress, where he'll probably give Lepod to Ayles. We'll send Dovan back north with the dwarf, and you'll probably stay on as the Stag Lord's pet for a while, unless he doesn't want you. It's hard to say with him, sometimes."
He lapses into silence, still sitting and listening to the sounds of the bandit camp. After a few minutes, he sighs again. "Topper'd best keep a good watch. If we get caught by something we can't handle, I intend to kill him first."
Laliytsa quickly packs up and gets ready to move on.
After bidding goodnight to the fey, Kazimir sheds his armour and settles down in his bedroll for another sound night.
He's happy to sit up on his watch, back to a tree, fiddling with some old leather off-cuts found at the bottom of his pack. Some of them seem just big enough to make something, if sewn together properly. He makes a note to see about picking up some tools next me he's at the outpost. The repeated hooting of the owl lulls him such that he's note sure if he's dreaming when he sees the stag watching him in the moonlight - dream or not, he takes it as a sign that he's on the right path, drawing a quick sign of the bow on his chest before the creature wanders off.
The next morning, he spends a while sitting in silent prayer, sharpening his axe. At Daen's words, he jerks his head up as if startled. "Oh, of course. I think I'm ready." Seeing Luthor still busy, he begins saddling the horses, checking on Surefoot's wound. He smiles when he sees it healing well. That magic certainly helped. I'll have to thank him for that again, he reminds himself.
As the party moves west away from the Thorn River, the first of Tyg's landmarks comes into view. A fin of rock, dark and jagged, rises from the land, while a creek rushes through a narrow gap in the stone and plummets to the ground nearly thirty feet below. While the party admires the falls, and the hardy plants that have rooted themselves in the fin's cracks and crevices, Luthor hears a sound that's unmistakable for someone who's spent time with horses. Though it's half-masked by the rumbling of the falls, it's certainly a whinny, and it seems to have come from the west. When he goes to look, he sees nothing.
On being informed of the sound, the party heads down into a meadow, filled with hundreds of small flowers just about to bloom. The creek rushes by, nearly waist deep, to the north, while ahead, the meadow becomes a glade of pines and aspens, with open patches scattered through it.
Laliytsa, poking around in the meadow, finds a pair of very fresh horse tracks. A close examination reveals that the two riders were heading east along the creek, until they stopped for a moment (as evidenced by the deeper prints in the soft dirt). After a brief stop, the two riders turned and began heading back the way they came at a gallop. In many places the ground is ripped and torn by the riders' passing, and it seems it would be easy enough to track.
"Do any of you reckon we should follow? I mean it could be anyone really, good or bad." Luthor said, clearly lacking any insights to the scene that might help draw a conclusion on the matter.
So that's how it is.
Cyanne's future folds up small like a fan. She can feel Akiros watching her, no doubt expecting her to fall apart. Instead, she feels strangely light headed as all her fears drop away. With her future gone, she has nothing left to lose. She straightens and meets his gaze with her own.
Be what you dare. Lirpeth's voice echoes in her ears. Are you going to dare, Cyanne?
"The knight's story is far from finished, Akiros." Her voice, inherited from Azata angels, is by far her most striking feature. It resonates in the small tent, even without music. "Though half blinded from grief and guilt, he knows that he's treading a dark path. He's good at what he does -- the leadership, the tactics, the strategy -- but I think that he longs to use them in service to something better."
She unconsciously leans forward as she speaks to him, then realizes that her long blue hair is falling in her eyes. She tosses her head impatiently, trying to throw it back. "There are other gods, some far more forgiving than Erastil."
Indeed, Calistria would have welcomed this vengeful knight with open arms and... well, other open things. No. Service to the Sacred Sting would only pull him further from his true path.
"Shelyn would offer the Knight a chance for redemption and forgiveness, but she'd make him work to earn it. He'd have to want to change, and find his own way to his new path. Most important of all, he'd have to see that he was worth the effort of saving."
She sighs, feeling suddenly the futility of it all. Does she really think she can change him with words alone? "Good night, Akiros. Thanks for the story... and the honesty."
She finds a cold and thin blanket, and awkwardly makes several attempts with bound wrists to throw it over herself and Tango before going to sleep.
Kazimir drums his fingers on his thigh, thinking over the options. "You're right. We don't have much to go on, and we should probably get back to the outpost to resupply... but I don't like not knowing what we could have at our backs." Realizing that he hasn't really answered the question, he coughs, blushes, and says, with more confidence, "I say we follow."
Scratching his chin, Daen noticed it was still conspicuously bare. He'd always wanted a beard, but his heritage was not particularly fond of them. Perhaps someday he'd have a thin mustache, as the lone bristle he had above the left corner of his mouth attested to, but it could be years before it grew in. But he was getting distracted, there were more pressing matters.
"If it was a friend, they would have greeted us. If they didn't know us, it's possible they'd just be skittish. If they are a bandit scouting party, we'd best follow their trail, just in case they're going for reinforcements. If they are from the area, we could get valuable information from them. So most reasons point to following the tracks as much as we can. The surveying isn't going to run off, it will be there when we get back to it. Opportunities don't happen all the time. Following them is the best option, but let's be aware we might walk into a trap."
Laliytsa, ever a sparkling wordsmith, nods her head and says "Yep". When everyone else is ready she leads them after the tracks. The riders have left an obvious trail but she still watches carefully for any deviation.
Laliytsa is able to track the riders across a few narrow streams. It seems the riders aren't too concerned about stealth; their horses' hooves seem to be gouging a quite clear path through the mosaic of open fields and stands of trees. It's also quite clear that the riders are traveling very light; between her unfamiliarity with the area and the riders' speed, Laliytsa realizes the party's not likely to catch them until they stop.
After several hours of weaving their way through the trees, Laliytsa starts seeing signs that the horses are tiring. Occasionally there's a stumble, and the horses' paths seems to be more erratic. The creek is in spate to the north, and it doesn't seem there's much of a way across. Nevertheless, the hoofprints angle toward it, eventually stopping at the beginning of a beaver dam, just downstream of which is a large fallen log.
After a few hours, a pair of the riders Akiros dispatched lead their obviously blown mounts across the dam and toward the camp. Akiros steps away from where he's clearing rocks from the campsite to talk with them, then starts shouting again. "We got company coming. If they're following, they'll need to cross here. Topper, you've got the prisoners. Keep 'em out of the way. You and you, on the island with bows. The rest of you, find a place to hide. I'll be by in five minutes, and anyone who's not well-hidden will get what Topper did. I'll talk to 'em with a horse, and if things go wrong, you know the signal."
Topper grabs your still-bound arms, tugging and pulling you away. Once he's gotten you a good distance away from the creek, he strings a length of rope between your wrists and ties you to both Rask and Lepod. "You'd best not move, scum. Nor you, milady. You're a clever lass, and I'd be wroth with myself if I had to kill you, but it's either that or let Akiros beat me bloody, so you'd best stay quiet."
Be what you dare. Do you dare, Cyanne?
As Cyanne is being pulled away by Topper, she projects across her empathic link, Get Help! Tango's head pokes up, alarmed. She can feel a variety of emotions from her little friend: fear, concern, questioning, determination. Cyanne looks at her Mongoose and then looks significantly in the direction of the beaver dam and log.
Tango scurries off silently, his white fur blending with the frost on the ground and on the log. He easily balances as he crosses the log.
As Topper begins to tie her up, Cyanne whispers, "Are you sure you don't want me to move... at all? I thought you liked my dancing." She tries to give a minute wiggle of her hips to draw the redhead's attention, but she's cold, scared, and hungry. The smell of his whiskey-laden breath makes her empty stomach lurch a little, and she's not as persuasive as normal. Then again, Topper has been interested in her all along. It might not take much to hold his attention.
Meanwhile, Cyanne listens and watches to see if she can spot the group that the bandits are preparing to ambush. She hopes Tango can find them...
Laliytsa reins Wild in and dismounts. The ranger peers across the river.
"They crossed here. Can see tracks across the dam." She pauses, thinks for a moment then says "Figure if they can cross here we can too." Action follows thought; she starts leading her horse across before the rest of the group chimes in.
Wild follows his rider across with no hesitation. The pair waits on the other side of the bank.
અડધા વ્યક્તિ તરીકે પ્રેરક!* Swearing mentally in Elvish, she watches the blonde woman cross with her horse into the danger zone before Tango reaches the party.
With no time to do anything else, Cyanne dances her fascination in desperation, hoping to catch Topper before combat begins. She wiggles seductively in her ropes, moving her hips and feet languorously.
A new plan emerges in her mind. If Topper falls under, she will sing a Solid Note into existence, right at the level of the ropes. A single razor thin Eighth Note of C Sharp, sharp enough for her and her companions to cut their ropes.
As Laliytsa's horse steps onto the dam, she notices a couple of bushes on the island just to the west that don't seem to belong. Below them, there seem to be human shapes watching her progress.
Looking at the dam itself, she's able to see a white creature, fur spattered with mud and matted with dirt, working its way across the log. It heads directly toward the rest of the party, where it starts chittering loudly and running back and forth in the direction of the opposite shore. Its shape seems to be much like that of Luthor's Rikka.
From across the creek, a large man, chainmail covering his torso and silver hair hanging back in a tangled mess, emerges from behind a rock. He walks quickly to the far side of the dam, where he draws a longsword and jams it into the sticks and mud. "You there! Why were you following my men? We'll have words, or we'll have swords." He pauses, looking at the party's equipment. When he goes on, he does so more quietly. "Although, quite truthfully, I don't think you all together could kill me, and I've got more men than you besides. Leave your weapons on that side, I'll leave mine on this, and we'll have a talk about whose lands you intrude on, and about my prisoners."
Topper starts to whisper as you begin dancing. "Hey, now! That's better than your usual. Akiros will kill me if you start making too much noise. He'll kill you too..." He drones off, licking his lips in a manner that he must think is seductive, and begins staring at your hips and waist. A foolish look is plastered on his face.
A few moments later, the note shimmers into existence, and you can begin cutting the various ropes tying you to the other prisoners. Thinking for a moment, you try to remember how many brigands Akiros has with him. You come up with six, plus the other two scouts, who haven't come back yet.
Daen didn't like the dam, or the location. It looked just like it was a trap. As he prepared to lead his horse across the rickety structure, the bandit leader made his appearance. His suspicions confirmed, he noted the man, seeing that he was a cut above the other people they've run into out here. If his men were similar, they should be much more formidable than what they've already dealt with.
He moved back to the trees on his side of the river and threw the reins around a branch. He wasn't going to be the diplomat here, but he did want to have his hands free in case things got ugly.
About his prisoners?!? What about us?
Continuing her dance to keep Topper fascinated, Cyanne glances over at the bandit leader...
...but his grim expression is as hard to read as ever.
She slices apart the ropes binding her over the razor thin note she'd sung into being, freeing her poor sore wrists for the first time in 48 hours. She gestures to the other prisoners to do the same.
She turns to Rask with a smile. "Want to save your guild the cost of their ransom?"
Her eyes dart towards the currently slack-jawed Topper, still licking his lips at her performance.
Still rubbing her sore wrists, the blue-haired bard smiles. It's time for her to even the playing field...
Luthor sat on his horse with a worried frown, taking in the mans speech. Thinking about what to say, he suddenly became flustered as Daen went to dismount. "Oh, so were...okay then." He mumbled, eying Laliytsa and Kazimir for opinions as he slowly trotted his horse after Daens.
Getting off his horse he whispered to Daen. "Do you think he suspects our magic?"
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Kazimir takes in the speech, brain working frantically for words. At least there's one thing he can do, he reasons, tossing his lance off to one side. He throws his axe to the ground, where it sticks head-first in the mud, and finally, for good measure, he drops his crossbow as well. His shield stays on his left arm - at least, he reasons, if all else fails, he'll be able to bash his way to safety.
After a moment, he calls back, "These are unclaimed lands, and my companions are here under the orders of the Dragonscale Throne. They are not intruders. We have no desire to kill anyone, and we were following your men to determine whether you be friend or foe. By your words, I assume you to be the latter."
He clasps his holy symbol in one hand, raising it as a show of faith, hoping it may put the man more at ease. "Now that the matter of 'intrusion' is shown to be false, how about the second matter of your prisoners?"
Kaz: Your detection of the man doesn't reveal any evil, though whether it's because he's not or because his evil's been minor enough to slip through the cracks is unknown.
"Alright, now step to the middle of this dam. Easy, I've got archers all over this shore. We'll have our talk there." The silver-haired man steps out onto the dam, stopping at the halfway point, and waits for Kaz to come out.
==========
Meanwhile, Cyanne's spell continues to hold Topper as Rask nods slowly. "When you say, missie. When you say..." Leped shakes his bruised arms out and nods as well. They glance at Cyanne, obviously unwilling to make the first move.
Cyanne sighs as the curly-haired warrior tosses his weapons to the side. It's a good thing we've gotten ourselves loose.
She nods to Rask and Lepod. "Do it. I'll call for help."
Cyanne pokes her head out of the bush for a slightly better view. Who to call? Not the impulsive blonde on the horse. Not the crazy curly-haired warrior who just disarmed himself in front of the bandits... While the long haired human has a kind face, she finally settles on the scowling half-elf.
Since her school days. she's always trusted elves. And his wariness of the bandits shows that at least he's thinking. She points a finger in his direction, and begins whispering in elvish.
"Swordsman, I need your help and you need mine." It's a striking voice -- female, confident and young. She speaks elvish like one who learned it in early childhood. "The brigand leader has six other men hiding -- no, make that five -- we just took the one that was guarding us out. There are three of us prisoners, and we're now loose but ill equipped. I can help you, but I want your word of honor first."
"I want our freedom when this is done. I am not to be your plaything nor anyones. You can have the bandits' stuff, but I get my own gear and animals back. Finally, I want escort back to the trading post. Can you offer these terms in exchange for our assistance, swordsman?"
Kaz steps shakily onto the dam, hoping he looks more confident than he feels. Falling now would be most undignified, and possibly even disrupt any chance of negotiation.
He can't help blinking in surprise at the man's proposal. That... Was unexpected, he thinks, trying to regain his composure. "Kazimir Vasilovich," he says eventually, nodding, "and I'm not sure why you'd hold my faith against me to begin with, given the Elk-Father protects his faithful." He swallows, trying to take in the information he's been presented with, before continuing in a low tone. "If you're willing to save the two from the fate you think is in store for them, then you must be a reasonable fellow. However, I don't know whether I can in good conscience leave the dwarf." He spreads his hands a little, apologetically.
"Besides, how would that look to your men? To take the two and leave the one, when we have four horses? It would look unusual, and they might suspect something." He scratches the back of his neck thoughtfully. "And what motive do you have? Is it really just the goodwill of the prisoners you have in mind? Why would you go to such lengths to let them go if you took them in the first place?" He hastily adds, "I don't mean to cause offense, and I'm not rejecting your proposal. I just want to be perfectly clear of everything in play."
Something was definitely up. He couldn't quite put his finger on what it was, but bandits didn't need to parley. Kaz did answer brilliantly, which was exactly what needed to happen, but he wasn't cowed or angry. Either he was supremely confident, and there were some who could take the lot of them single-handedly, or at least confident in his defense and let the backup he have pepper them with arrows. But what could he want to talk about? If he really were that confident, why would he need to have Kaz disarm himself? Was it all a bluff? Did he think we were delivering or capable of a ransom? If so, why wouldn't they just kill us and take whatever we might have?
While he was still pondering this, he heard the voice of an angel speaking to him as if he were in a lucent dream. She was a prisoner? Also, she was no fool, making reasonably thorough demands. If what she said was true, they had three prisoners, swaying the numbers back in their favor. If there were archers over there, it was likely he could make it across the log downstream and offer support. Luthor could put some of them to sleep no doubt, and they'd be going back to the fort having a good laugh about it in the afternoon.
Or they'd all be dead because it was part of the trick and they had spell casters on their side.
He slowly nodded his assent to her demands, as they would plan to do all of those things anyhow. Most likely upon freeing prisoners, they'd give back all the stuff that was theirs and escort them to safety. Gaining friends or more importantly favors in the chaotic Brevoyan and River Kingdom worlds is always a prudent idea.
"Was that a yes? My view of you is rather obstructed, and I'm loathe to let Akiros know I'm no longer tied up. Swordsman, you can whisper back to me and I will hear you."
Cyanne waits, nervously a moment, for his answer. She hadn't picked a mute, had she?
"By the way, I'm Cyanne. I'm with a dwarf named Rask and a rather battered young man named Lepod. Give the word, and I'll try to blind the ones on the island for you."
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Tapping a foot on the dam, he considers for a moment. "They're not the first prisoners I've brought to the Stag Lord, and I don't mind the killing, but Ayles is a monster. The boy won't die slow. As for the girl...she reminds me of my Rosilla. As for the horses..." Akiros grins a dangerous-looking grin. "I could kill one. If you've got three horses and six riders, there's no shame in leaving a fat, surly dwarf behind, is there?"
At Cyanne's word, Leped throws himself at the still-fascinated 'Topper' Red. He lets out a surprised screech as his head bounces off the ground and the battered ex-prisoner starts grabbing and twisting at his arms. Rask goes for the bandit-poet's sword, getting his hands around the hilt and pulling it free of its scabbard with a grunt. He holds the weapon as if he has no idea what to do with it.
Leped continues to grapple with 'Topper', who squeals and whines loudly enough for the party to hear as his arms are twisted behind his back and pinned by two huge hands. The dwarf grips the sword awkwardly and sends the flat of the blade crashing toward 'Topper', where it bounces off his shoulder and elicits another yelp of pain. "If you're to do something, missie, best do it quick!"