After subtly observing and engaging with every dwarf he came in contact with, Luke's search comes up short.
During this time the Company break camp and journey accross the tundra at a slow and steady pace. The Nomen keep their distance ranging as outriders while the dweorg warriors ride the wagons and march behind when necessary.
Of the human drovers, Aulden sits alongside Highmettle in the lead wagon, whilst Schimm and Byrr drive the second. Swige and Bartliff move between both droving the cattle with enthusiasm when required.
Ragnar walks off to one side of the cattle, eyes outward and roving with Liten Mun at his heel. Skaggig sits resting easily across his broad shoulders and he oft turns his voice to ode and song upon the journey.
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Nadia pays the 750 gold for the sword and wraps it in hide. Later that evening while sitting by the fire and consuming mead, she carries it to Luke.
Master huntsman...I was able to obtain the sword that you were bartering for. I would like to gift it to you. She kneels down next to where he is sitting and hands him the magical sword wrapped in the hides. I appreciate you guidance and protection in this harsh terrain and I am thankful for the opportunity to seek my kin.
Luke is obviously dumbfounded, and cannot begin to express his gratitude. He takes the sword and he stands before bowing deeply to Nadia.
Where I come from, such gifts are not to be taken lightly. I want to talk more with you about your kin this very evening, but first I must press the issue about my stolen ring. I look forward to speaking with ya soon.
He rises, and he gestures to Ragnar.
Please, join me brother.
He stands afore the largest of the campfire and says the following in a loud voice for all to hear while all the while guaging the actions of all Dwarves.
Someone in this camp has stolen my ring. I had it when I arrived, and I have it no longer. If the cowardly individual steps forward now and returns the item, then I willna' pursue it further. If not, blood will spill from one of you when I find it! Well, who has the b!#*!~*s to answer my accusation!
Perception:
Nadia looks at the expressions and body language of the people.
Ragnar follows Luke as bidden, not entirely sure what to expect. When his words speak of theft, the northman's face darkens and he takes skaggig off his shoulders to rest easily on the ground. He does not yet speak... instead awaiting the first words of the dweorgs before adding his weight.
At Luke’s proclamation there are mixed reactions by the assembled Highmettle Company and their folk;
The Nomen centaur’s offer perhaps the most understated, most snort or stand impassive as the Warden’s accusation rings out. As Skaggig slips to the ground she recognises its subtle intent and catches the Northman’s eye with a subtle shake of her head. A shake mirrored by the raising of her lancetip to a more readied position.
It is clear Maclise (and ergo her tribesmen) do not seek confrontation, but neither will they shirk combat if their employer is threatened... Confusion and disinterest plays across the collective group’s eyes and faces, but not of guilt...
Of the human drover’s there is more of a mixed response... Aulden shakes his head and spits before answering Luke’s words with a bitter tone;
”Adventuring scum. I SAID... said nei good would come o’ welcomming their kind to our fires...”
His disdain is matched by Schimm the Bow who counter challenges the Warden;
”Reel your neck in boy. Lest a dweorgr ax grant it freedom from that loud mouth o’ yours!”
The drover has already notched his curved bow, but has not brought it to bear... yet...
Bartliff and the mute Swige look in shock; Swige looking frantically from Luke then back to Ǽdensor with pleading eyes and waving hands, whilst the normally jolly Bartliff looks close to tears.
The hatred that Aulden and Schimm both feel for the group is tangible, but it is a hatred fuelled not of being uncloaked as villains or borne of evil, rather these are men who have no love of adventurers and while they relish the opportunity to bleed you, it is an honest hate that fuels them.
Swige’s frantic actions are typical of a mute who bereft of a voice makes up for it with loud actions. However his are the actions of the charlatan, one versed in smoke and mirrors, of distraction from his true nature perhaps...
Bartliff’s blubbering performance is of a man fearful of what is to come, but not borne of crimes undertaken...
Finally the dwoerg themselves react; stoic and stern they stand, the guardsman moving purposely to the shoulder of their chief and his right hand. Weapons and shields are carried but not yet presented for combat...
The guardsmen’s eyes glare with pride and hardness at their accuser and his company. None flinch, none shirk and none show guilt...
Byrr shakes his head and raises his hand to silence further bitter words from the Highmettle Company but also to serve notice to his guardsmen;
Byrr’s raised hand has subtly two fingers extended and two crooked. You sense that this is a message to his guardsman regarding either a strategy or approach they should take in this situation. However it is clear that the steadfast companion of Ǽdensor is an honest dweorg whose word and actions have been true.
For his part Ǽdensor initially remains calm, though his clenched fists and reddening face suggest otherwise... Through gritted teeth the Master Brewer answers Luke’s accusation;
”By the gods o' Hearth and Still it is ye who lie Warden! That or ye are addled by medu! Threaten the spilling o’ blod when ye’ve supped my medu! Traded with me and my kin... Laddie stay thy tongue afore we start something here that will only end in the reddening o’ snow and tundra graves fer both sides...”
The old merchant’s anger and hurt pride is clear... He feels slighted and steadfastly refuses to believe any of his company are responsible... He himself clearly knows nothing of the ring or the crime...
I am Warden of these parts and a villainous thief is among ya. Ǽdensor, I suggest ya find out which of ya is the culprit!
Sense Motive:
Muli looking out on the Centaurs, makes a small gesture of calm and indicating weapons should be lowered.
Hearing the declarations of innocence, Muli pays little heed, he has a suspicion. The thief is not a Centaur, and may easily not be among us, for who can remove the ring from Luke's hand short of magic....and trickser magic at that... Out of the corner's of his eyes, Muli looks at the base of any trees or nearby large rocks...for the glimmer of a púca who might be enjoying the shouting and cursing.
Ragnar begins to laugh... not the nervous chuckle of an intimidated man, nor with the sadistic glee of one who seeks to be cruel. Instead it is a hearty belly laugh from one who finds the tableau before him worthy of mirth. Composing himself he bellows as skaggig's axehead lies still in the snow before him "Peace men, you would do well to put down your weapons... you'll notice that skaggig yet lies idle. I have no wish to kill any of you today..." looking around calmly. The watchers will note that his face is bemused... but his eyes are hard.
With a harder edge to his tone he challenges "Unless you want for me to ready my axe and speak words of battle?" holding and waiting to see if hearts have hardened or softened to the words "Surely there is a way to settle this that will not leave your blod to feed the saplings of Spring?"
Disa was waiting to pick up whatever was left unsold. That would include the other Restoration potion making it 150 gp each.
The shield maiden remains seated in the midst of the exchange, looking from one group to the next to the next to the next. Confusion is plainly writ upon her features. After hearing the accusations, counter accusations and myriad threats, she quietly interjects, "There are more ways to áscian þing than your hot words and cold steel."
áscian þing = learn a thing(truth)
I am open to suggestions. I just want returned what is mine.
Sense Motive:
Ǽdensor meets Luke's accusation with a stoney silence before he walks up the the lean warden, hand held high and open to all and airs his thoughts;
"Yer red handed Northman speaks wisely Warden... and I understand yer anger at the loss o' yer ring..."
The dweorg calmly reaches for his hip flask and takes a swig, before offering it up to Luke;
"... But... I cannae believe that any o' my folk or hands, even those new tae my fold like the mute an' the fat lad, are responsible..."
From his shoulder a more concerned faced Byrr pipes up;
"Perhaps ye dropped it Ranger! In the kald hands are prone tae numbing... rings can slip off? We could send some of our group back to the campsite?"
For any who catch the eyes of the others you see the Nomen still stand ready but unconcerned, the dweorgr guard grim faced and ready and from the human drovers a mix of panic and hatred.
There are certainly magical means at our disposal to locate the object, and sending some back to the camp may work. I KNOW for a fact that i possessed it just before coming upon your group, and it did not simply fall off.
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Look people. This could get ugly fast. This does not need to happen. Whoever took the ring needs to return it now before people start dying. If you return it now, this whole situation will be dropped!
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Spitting in the snow to one side, Ragnar picks up skaggig and raises it above his head one handed "Enough, I Ragnar Sköld Född, jätte köttyxa, troll gutter and blod sonen of Olof Skötkonung himself name you tjuv mästare." bringing the axe down heavily into the snow such that it sticks in the ground. He levels a gauntleted finger at the dweorg merchant "You either pay my sköld brodern weregild for his loss... or name a champion to face me and prove your ära through battle."
Intimidate:
Looking about camp, Muli hears Ragnar's words and feels the <thud> of the axe in the ground. "Not good...not good..not much time till I'm needed as healer."
He pushes back the cuff on his right arm. He knocks on the spherical stone embossed on the bracer there. "Wake up there. We have a magic ring to find." With his arm to his chest, the bracer's 'eye' faces out as Muli continues to scout about the camp.
Ǽdensor turns to first Disa, addressing her cryptic advice;
"Such as lass? Can ye see into a man or dweorg's soul? Nei... there is little to do here but parley as neither side can afford blo-"
His words are cut short as Ragnar's challenge and proclomation of weregild are uttered
"... awww scite!"
The merchant spins on his guardsmen as they gruffly begin to take up Ragnar's challenge, before citing Nadia's more peaceful appeal;
"Listen tae her! By Torag's beard listen tae her!"
...though his words seem to fall on deaf ears, as furious at Ragnar's naming of their chief as tjuv mästare...
Byrr strides forward throwing off Ǽdensor's hand before stopping afore the waiting Ragnar;
"Byrr Blakhammr, son of the ancient Clan Klagengunnd meets your challenge Nordmann! Minn chief Ǽdensor Highmettle will indeed find truth in the cracking of your human bones under dweorg iron!"
Grimfaced, the veteran dweorg warrior clashes his warhammer off his shield in answer to Ragnar...
The eye of the armband opens and slowly swivels as it scans the surrounding area... As the orb scans one of the wagons (where Ǽdensor keeps his mundane goods) the pupil widens as if in surprise and Muli suddenly sees what it sees... a faint circular glow, very small in size emitting from within...
Muli's eye's widen as well. He pats the bracer, "Well done, 'My Little Eye'. Now let's see if that be the Warden's ring."
Looking about and hoping Ragnar holds everyone's attention, he darts toward the wagon and enters it, keeping the bracer forward toward their quarry. Pushing his way into the transport, he lightly calls out, "Come to Muli, Ring. You have been hidden too long and blood will spill."
or
Ragnar sizes up the approaching dweorg and nods "I have challenged, the choice of arms is yours... fist or blade?"
Skolrykk stands by quietly, ready to fight if need be.
"Quickly now dweorg, we haven't all day"
Byrr eyes Ragnar grimly;
"I heard you Nordmann... You insult my chief's honour... so blades it is... your ax and minn hammer?"
The rest of the merchant company stand grim faced as the honur duel is initiated...
Following the eye's guidance - Muli can trace the ring into a barrel inside the wagon... however as he seeks to investigate two of the drovers - Aulden and Schwimm the Bow impede him - challenging his behaviour
In the background you notice Muli being drawn towards one of the wagons, as he seeks to lift the tarp, Swige the mute draws attention to the alchemist's investigation and two of the more belligerent drovers (Aulden and Schwimm the Bow) race towards Muli and challenge him angrily
A grim smile spreading across his face, Ragnar sheds alfr smarta and his shield into the snow, and unburdens himself of all but his armor and skaggig. Breathing deep and then out with a billow of steam he nods at the dweorg "Best give me a challenge now beardling... so I might see reason to take only your beard and not your life."
He then stands easy and ready for the throwdown.
Nadia slowly starts moving in the direction of Muli. She prepares to defend her companion.
Perception:
Luke steps forward before blood is shed.
Halt! Muli, what have you found over there?
Muli steps back from the threatening drovers. He calls out to Luke, "Muli sees a ring, well, Muli's bracer does. A magic ring. It hides within a barrel in this wagon. Muli knows not if it is yours as these men block Muli."
Allow him to prove your honesty, by checking the ring! What do you have to fear if you claim not to be thieves? If it is not my ring then the challenge can continue!
Ragnar shows no sign of having noticed the words of his companions, he will not be the first to back down from the challenge.
Byrr also stands ready ignoring the shouts behind him. With a nod towards Ragnar he readies his weapon and assumes a fighting stance;
"Heh. Take my beard... good one Nordmann... tell my ancestors how I cut you down with ease when they greet you in the next life!"
Meanwhile Aulden and Schwimm struggle with Muli as Luke intercedes. The grizzled drover snarls as the Warden approaches;
"Dunno what this wildman's game is but he ain't touching our supplies without good say-so!"
Bow drawn, the other drover hasn't found he stones or reason to aim at anyone, but looks angry and confused by the situation spiralling around them.
As the dwarves circle and stand facing the party, the centaurs noticably keep a distant watch. Ǽdensor bellows for someone to stop Ragnar and Byrr before they kill each other... The mute Swige approaches Nadia and with worried expression makes a knifing movement whilst pointing at Muli and Aulden...
Initiative:
"Muli not need to go in there. You pull it out. Second barrel on left. Draw it forth, show Muli the ring there and let Luke see if it be his."
Nadia shakes her head no at the mute man. We are ok friend. She calls out to the driver with his bow pulled. You raise that bow at one of my allies and you will die where you stand.. She notches two arrows, but keeps the bow pointing down.
Luke draws his bow and notches an arrow.
Pull out the barrel, or let Muli search it...your choice. No action, and I start turning you all into porcupines.
With a hearty belly laugh that slowly morphs into a primal roar, Ragnar surges forwards. Boots crunching as they plough through the snow skaggig is held wide and high, before being brought down in a savage dipping cross-strike, aiming to take the dweorg solidly in his trunk. The fire of Surtur burns in his eyes as rage gives the strength of the jötnar to his limbs...
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Disa impassively watches the duel, beginning to mentally calculate the weregild of each combatant based on their competency and how the loss of such will surely impact the party of the loser.
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Perception:
Skolrykk is too busy watching the fight and his back to notice anything else...
Honour Duel Round 1
Skaggig bites hard and deep into the rim of Byrr's shield but does little else but taste iron as the veteran dweorg arcs his warhammer toward the raging Vikingr...
:
:
... smashing armour and bone with a jarring hit.
Fishing in the Barrel...
With the threats and violence threatening to overspill, Ǽdensor takes hold of his company. Grim faced he shouts for his own guardsmen not to retort to the raising of bows with their own crossbows. He also waves off the Nomen mercenaries, who had begun to draw their own weapons when violence was threatened.
”Aulden… Schwimm let ‘im go… Bartliff open the barrel lad… let us see if indeed there is deception and larceny at my fire, in my company!”
At his chief’s behest the fat drover climbs slowly into the wagon and prises open a barrel of dried rations, he rummages around as everyone waits.
Aulden spits angrily as the search is conducted, the guardsman wait stone faced.
Swige remains beside Nadia…
As the clang of weapons on armour ring through the waiting silence Ǽdensor shakes his head;
”Torag’s Tongs! Someone calm those hotheids down!”
Blows in the Snow Round 2:
Kicking at Byrr's shield to get some distance as well as free skaggig, Ragnar gives the dweorg a red rimned grin. Ominously chuckling the jotun splitter brings skaggig to bear in another cross-swipe...
Blows in the Snow Round 2
Ragnar's seasoned tactic sends Byrr off balance and his shield side open and vulnerable... on that the ruthless Vikingr exploits sending Skaggig crunching into Byrr's mailed torso.
Split and dripping crimson upon white, the veteran dweorg's eyes widen as the true measure of Ragnar is revealed.
Gritting his teeth Byrr swings once again, driving shield up and hammer down;
:
;
But blood loss and desperation make poor bed fellows in a duel, and as such the warrior's strike is misstimed and ineffective...
Luke looks at Ǽdensor, and nods in the direction of the fight behind them as he slowly lowers his bow, but keeps the arrow notched.
You'll have no luck stopping the dweorgs in a froth. Best to just let them finish without other involvement until we sort this out.
Ǽdensor casts a grim look at Luke;
"Laddie... if Byrr dies then ye will have his kin to deal with... an rest assured his Clan will come knockin... Now iffen you boy drops, then at the very least his fellow Nordmann will kick off... all I see is more blod if it gets more bloddie..."
The old dweorg nods toward Bartliff who stands ready to open the barrel;
"You... open it and we'll deal with what we find there"
He turns to Kevkul and Skol who both stand quiet;
"YOU and YOU. Come with me and sort these scrappers out..."
Ǽdensor sprints toward the embattled Byrr and slams into his loyal guardsman;
:
Behind him Kevkul stands muttering an incantation
[dice]1d6
before drawing on the boon of the Spendig Wisa and moving toward Ragnar at haste