Moira recoiled a bit as the man showed his true colors. Actually, he wasn't much of a man really. More a monster. But something he said got to her. She pokes him in the chest, right over the heart, and drives him towards the tower. She probably broke skin but she cared little about his comfort at this point. "Storing? What do you mean storing?"
Rose carefully stepped up to stand beside Moira, arms crossed, fingers drumming quietly as she watched the bandit talk. She thought something peculiar about what he was saying before he became charmed, and she wanted Moira to coax it out of him. Forcefully if the need should arise. She also wanted to know the full detail of the Stag Lord's fort and what kind of people he had at his beck and call. Once Moira was satisfied with her line of questioning, she had her own questions she wanted to have answered as truthfully as this man could muster.
The bandit giggles as the point of Moira's sword pricks his skin and draws a bead of blood. "I'm not gonna tell you!" he singsongs in a childish voice. He panted for several seconds afterwards, sweat springing up on his forehead as he tried to twist off of Moira's sword point. "That's mine and mine alone."
Rose thinks for a couple moments and then she turned away making a disgusted face. She hated having to possibly degrade herself like this, but it seemed to be the only way of possibly making him cooperate if even just a little. She adjusted her tunic, tying it up in such a way as he make her 'assets' quite a bit more revealing allowing more of her natural curve as well as baring her taut stomach and then turned back to face him. She gave a sly smirk and spoke softly. "A handsome man like you must like to brag about his big conquests. Your perverse pleasures. I want to know exactly what you would like to do to a woman like me." As she spoke she stepped closer to him, gently pushing aside Moira's large blade and turning back to give her a knowing wink. She couldn't believe she was doing this, but if it had a chance of getting him to spill she was definitely going to take it.
Moira was more than ready to take a swing (with the flat of the blade of course) but Rosa had another idea. The hunter took one look at the drow and turned away with a huff. That kind of diplomacy, even if she looked like Rosa or Mehaila, she couldn't, wouldn't do it. She didn't have the mentality. And not with a man like him. She'd seen eyes like that before but never in that way. Usually from bandits that delighted in hurting physically. His was worse. His gaze made her feel disgusting. Sullied. Angry.
She took a few steps away and got out a whetstone and started taking the nicks out of her greatsword, keeping one ear on the conversation.
Domitian had been pacing for some time, as the questioning wore on, a frown deepening on his face. He wanted to help, he wanted to get the answers his companions sought, but he was just so fed up with everything. Their attack of the camp had gone far better than he could have hoped for, but he just hated dealing with people like this. To see this man act the way he was acting, in the face of all this carnage, and the things he was hinting at, it was all too much.
Finally he turns away from the interrogation scene, looking for something else to distract him. He began searching the campsite and surrounding areas, looking for any information, helpful clues, shiny things, or generally anything of interest. He avoided the bodies, leaving them to his companions, who appeared to already be in the burial process.
As everyone in the group with the exception of Rosa and Moira seemed to find speaking with the bandit distasteful if not outright fearsome, they did a very thorough job of stripping bodies and searching every square inch of the clearing. The horses of the bandits, who had all gotten as far from the combat as they could, returned in ones and twos once the glade became quiet again. They shied away from the bodies of the bandits and soon started grazing on the grass.
Domitian, with his careful and methodical searching, is the one who finds the armed bear trap amongst the goods piled haphazardly on the large wagon near where Rosa was trying to entice the carnal hungers of the bandit hanging from the tower.
The bandit watches as Moira stalks away, his eyes on her hips and powerful legs. "I like the ones who fight me. Makes the end all the more sweet." he purred. As Rosa's midriff was bared his tongue slid out and slowly licked his lips. "But I also like the whores like you who know how to properly please a man. Got a few back in Restov who know my gentle touch. What'll be your pleasure my sweet? A slow and gentle caress with my tongue to whet your base appetites? Or shall I rip your clothing off and show the way all men should treat their women? Will you wave that precious rear end to entice me to-"
Rosa will spend the next five minutes listening as the bandit described in minute detail what he would do to her if she would just untie him. After the first minute Delan turned away in disgust and moved over to Moira. "I don't like to use the word hate but that man comes as close to hateful as any mortal can. Don't let he's saying affect you that deeply...I'm sorry what was your name? You've kept your distance from me this entire time so I don't know what to call you. Well, I just want to say don't let his hate infect you. He will be judged harshly by the gods and endure eternal torment...and I will be the one to send him to them."
Delan would unsheath his own battered rapier and take a practice swing with it. Moira will see that the weapon, while old and beaten, held a keen blade that was well cared for and shimmered in the faint torchlight. "He is ugly and stains the world with his life. I will restore beauty to his presence with my own hand."
Rose gagged internally as she listened to his tirade, hearing him go on and on about being especially brutal and twisted when it came to women. Even more than any other psychopath or loathsome lecherous pig. She decides to pull an ace from her sleeve, literally. She rolled up her sleeve to show her scarred and disfigured arm. "And do you like scarring? Marring flesh turn your black little heart on?" She teased, trying to see if she could push him just far enough.
The bandit's eyes caressed Rosa's scars with love but he remains strangely tongue tied for a few moments. When he finally responded there was a sly tone in his voice. "Your time will come, just like all the others. In the end they will all become one with me and together we will have delights unrestrained by mentality."
Rose purred softly. "How many others have known your... loving... touch? Dozens? Did they walk away after your... delightful... encounters? Or were you just too good. Did you get the blood pumping in more ways than one?" She continued to push gently, bait him into saying just enough to get him hook, line and sinker. She knew she was going to need a thorough bath after talking at such lengths with this man.
"67 my sweet. 67 souls have been judged worthy to join me." the bandit hissed. Rosa's questioning had brought out something truly dark about the man. His voice had become quiet and menacing and his eyes burned with intensity. Other parts of him were also becoming...excited.
"When 100 have joined as one my ascension will be assured." the man hissed quietly between his teeth who looked about ready to burst with everything he wanted to say.
Lyra had been listening quietly the entire time, her eyes dispassionate as she filed away everything into her mind. Finally facts began to click in the analytical wizard's head and she stiffened in response. "You're talking about a transformation ritual. Something that will turn you into something more than human."
The spider next to her shifted in agitation, all eight of it's black eyes locked on the bandit.
She turned back to her sister. "Transformation ritual?" She then turned back to the bandit, definitely more agitated from the rise she had been giving him. "How will these hundred join with you? Physically? Or some other way? Is there an object needed?" She was genuinely curious now, wondering exactly how he was planning to transform.
The bandit clamped his teeth shut for several minutes, denying the questioning by literally biting down so hard that the muscles in his cheeks and neck stood out. At last, the words dragging out him with extreme reluctance, he spoke. "There's...a...coin. In...my...body..."
His frustration largely worked out along with his exploration of the camp, Domitian calms himself enough to return to the interrogation. Things have gone from repulsive to legitimately evil in short order, and he needed to get his head back in the game.
Domitian frowned deeply as the final revelations rolled out of this person's mouth. Flashbacks to the previous bandit, and the evil presence that possessed him, made Domitian shiver. "There is much and more evil in this group, it makes me wonder what sort of man this Stag Lord is."
Then he'll mutter a quick prayer, and begin to look the man over, trying to find any sign of this coin in his body.
Vetra huffed slightly annoyed at the dangling human, though she pushed the urge to slash at his face for no apparent reason, he just looked like he had a really punchable face. Mehalia's hand on her shoulder caused her to blink out of her intense focus on the bandit before giving her a nod. "I help, yes. Prevent undeath. Sick things."
The gold kobold would go with Mehalia and help her perform the rites and drag the bodies. When they found a soft enough ground to dig easily she'd begin digging the hole big enough needed. Before any bodies were lowered into the hole, she'd do a very thorough check of the bodies for anything of relevance or use. While doing so she'd give a glance to Mehalia for a moment, before commenting "You bow skills good pretty human." She tried to compliment as she was digging through the armor and weapons on the bodies, searching for pouches or hidden hideaways.
As your divine senses expand your mind is assaulted from the sheer agony of the evil emanating off the bandit. It takes you a few seconds to endure the vision but eventually your sight clears to see a dark star shining from the bandit's stomach. The bandit himself registers weakly but veins of black could be seen linking his aura with the pulsing black hole at his abdomen, feeding his soul with filth and wretchedness.
You search for almost half an hour and gather everything you can find on the bandits and the gear stored on the wagon and hidden under the guard towers.
321 sp
9 heavy horses
1 light horse
10 standard saddles
8 shortswords
8 longbows
183 arrows
1 superior studded leather armor
a waraxe of unusual design
unusual fullplate
3 50 gallon wooden barrels
2 longbows with very thick staves
heavy steel shield
three crates of furs
2 handaxes
4 daggers
1 glass vial with blue liquid that smells coppery
wooden music box
polished wooden case w/ 8 bottles of green liquid
pair of silver earings
1 stone vial with yellow liquid that smells of honey
a quarterstaff accented with black iron fillagree and topped with an orb of cloudy white quartz
8 leather armor
a quarterstaff made from reddish wood and capped with brass
a large wagon
a scrollcase
a necklace with five pearl beads
After everything is piled up Delan would frown in annoyance after reading a bandit's journel. "Those little buggers must have run off with it. Damn them."
Rose carefully readjusted her clothing to become more modest once more, more than happy to finally be done with her particular form of interrogation. She was even quick to cover her scarred arm once more and drew a deep, shuddering breath as she still felt filthy from the interactions with the bandit. When she was able to pull away from the interrogation finally and overhear Delan's protest. "Run off with what?" She asked, looking at him fairly curiously as she saw him holding a small book.
Domitian's hands shoot to his temples as his face twists in pain. He shakes his head as he turns quickly away from the bandit. "That, that... thing... in him; it is pure evil. Evil of a strength I have never actually seen before. It is in his stomach, and it radiates out through him, black lines of evil feeding into him from the inside." His shaky voice finally calms a little, as time passes, and he is able to bring himself to look at the bandit again, though not without a shudder. "What is that thing?" he says to the bandit. "Where did you get it?"
The bandit's eyes shifted back and forth as more people began to crowd around him, his smile growing wider with every second. He rested his head back against the tower and relaxed. "It's quite pleasant to be able to speak with frieeeeends about this. Three years ago the boys and me knock over this caravan and make off with several chests before a patrol chases us off and we lose them in the forest. Inside one of these chests was a sealed lead box wrapped in chains. Well I was all aquiver with curiosity with such elaborate precautions so I broke the chains and unsealed the box. Inside was my little gem and when I touched it..." the bandit sucked air in theatrically and making a strange hissing noise, his eyes alight. "It was like my whole mind expanded. The freedoms it gave me, the knowledge it showed me. And all I had to do was give in to what I always wanted to do. Feed it 100 souls and I would be remade."
He laughed quietly. "Believe it or not I tried to resist. Threw the coin into the lake, melt it in a fire, spend it away in Restov. Somehow it always came back and everytime it was harder and harder to get rid of it. Strange times, those. Never can understand why I was so determined to get rid of the coin."
"I'm sorry what was your name? You've kept your distance from me this entire time so I don't know what to call you."
"Well yes. You're a bandit. They tend to lie," Moira says, giving him a flat look. One that dared him to argue. Before he could she continued on. "At least you were one. You've done good so far but that doesn't mean I won't keep watching for a while."[b] The tone is not harsh. Just a statement. It is obvious she is not an easy person to earn the trust of. [b]"Moira. Moira Renet."
Delan would unsheath his own battered rapier and take a practice swing with it. Moira will see that the weapon, while old and beaten, held a keen blade that was well cared for and shimmered in the faint torchlight. "He is ugly and stains the world with his life. I will restore beauty to his presence with my own hand."
"I don't think any god could restore beauty to that man," Moira scoffs. She pauses her sharpening to watch Delan practice. Or to be more precise, look at his weapon. She points with her sword at his. "May I?" Should he agree, she sets her weapon aside carefully and looks over his with an appraising eye. She looks down the length, rubs a finger across the blade, checks the grip and the guard, then hands it back. "Blades sharp and straight. Guard's intact but a little loose. Grip is frayed but not an issue yet. I could take care of it if you brought me some leather and copper wire." It might not be a handshake and a pat on the back but it's likely the best he'll get right now.
Moira was ignoring the bandit at this point. She didn't like the things he was saying. So it took her a bit notice the changes going on. The forest...it was quiet. And it was never quiet. The horses had bunched together. They sensed something. Then a torch went out with barely a breeze blowing. A sense of dread passed over her and only got worse when she looked at the hanging man. She stood abruptly and said loudly. "Guys. I think he should stop talking. Have you noticed how quiet it's gotten?"
You see a pair of golden eyes staring at you from the shadows of the forest. The moment your eyes focus the eyes vanish and the shadow of whatever it was vanishes into the trees. Moment later life seems to return to the glade as the wind returns and the night animals begin calling again.
Her hair stood on end. Her heart sped from resting to fight or flight in an instant. She reached for her sword and turned back. But it was gone. "Hey!" she yelled. "Something's out there watching us." Or it was. She didn't feel the ominous presence anymore and the forest regained its normal sounds. Yet still she remained tense for several minutes. "I think...we should head back soon. I don't want to sleep here."
Rose was listening to the bandit go on and on about his terrible little treasure that he managed to come across. She looked over to Lyra and gave her a worried face, knowing that regardless of what they do with the bandit, they should not personally touch that object once it's out of his body.
Becoming kind of lost in her thoughts, she didn't notice the presence of anything unnatural in the area around them. When Moira speaks up, she'll turn to her and offer a smile and a shrug. "We are most assuredly not resting here. Hopefully we will be leaving soon." She spared another glance to the bandit, and then sighed and rubbed her scarred arm unconsciously.
Vetra sorted through the loot that they pried off the guards and saw a piece of armor she had interest in, it looked like it may be better quality then what she had, but it was apparent she would need to get it adjusted to fit her. Setting that aside along with the two staffs, music box and the unusual waraxe for priority inspection along with the vials. When that is done and the bodies were dumped into the small grave she'd walk over to the group near the bandit.
As she comes into sight she'd wad up a spitball and spit it out on the grass below the bandit. "Why is he still alive? Did we get everything out of him that we needed?" Her hands twitched slightly, she was uneasy around the bandit and she just wanted to end his life. "Charter has already sealed his fate. If we don't need him much longer, I say we kill him and dump his body with the rest."
Stifles a bit at the pretty human comment from Vetra, and gently corrects hers, by pointing to her ears " I would be an Elf, Vetra. We tend to be more graceful. Tend to live longer too. I would be careful saying that to a strange elf. Some are more... concerned with image." She would help sort out the loot as well, dividing the gold and arrows up as best she could, which would give them each 36 arrows each, and with 2 left over she would leave them. The gold she counted, then piled together for group fund. She also took an eye to the quarterstaff topped with the brass, and the earrings, but would let the others look over it as well. It wasn't like she didnt have a pair already in, but you never knew when a new pair of earrings would fit an outfit. After a bit of thought, she would rejoin the group, having missed something. She joins her voice to Vetra's " I thought we would be burying him as well. Is he worth keeping around for something? She picked up something was wrong, but was unsure the how or why.
Domitian just shakes his head in disgust, sadness in his eyes, as the bandit goes on and on about this coin. When the others return, he'll nod off to one side, leaving the bandit to his rantings so they can discuss.
"This coin sounds evil on a major scale. We need to figure out what, if anything, we want to do about it. Either way, our pleasant friend here needs to die - the charter is perfectly clear about that, and by his own admittance he was into banditry long before he picked this thing up. Once he dies, though, do we just bury him and try to forget we ever learned about that vile thing? Or do we... " he pauses, a look of disgust on his face, " retrieve... it?"
He pauses for a moment before continuing. "A very very large part of me wants to just pretend the fool never mentioned it. I do worry, though, about leaving an evil artifact like this unattended in a shallow grave. It may be very easy for someone else to come along and find it; a simple detection spell would lead them to it swiftly enough. Do we want to leave this level of evil at such easy access within the territory we are set to clean up?"
The bard turned to listen to Domitian's suggestions. When the paladin was done speaking Delan would shake his head. "Whatever this coin is we can't touch it. From his descriptions he literally could not keep the coin away from him. That sounds like a cursed item to me and something we should be very careful with. I don't know if we can do anything EXCEPT hide it."
"We are not leaving it here," Moira says vehemently. "Not in this forest...or around these bodies. I don't wanna deal with a demon tree, or, or, an undead plague thanks to that thing. I don't know what to do with it but," Moira says, turning to the psychopath, "I know what to do with him." She nudges Delan forward. "You're up," she says nodding at the bandit. He wanted to end the man's horrible existence and she didn't blame him nor want to get in the way.
If he takes the queue she whispers to Domitian, "Can you see it? Can you guide me to it?" She pulls out a very sharp dagger and hides it behind her back, waiting. This wasn't going to be pleasant but it had to be done.
Lyra's eyes narrowed at the conversation between Domitian and Delan, her mind toying with an idea. While such magic was out of their range at the moment simple prayer could often prove to be much more potent with dealing items of such powerful corruption. "Maybe we can do more. I have no magic that can destroy and item that powerful but maybe we don't need to be the ones to do that."
She turned towards Domitian as Moira moved up to him. The wizard spoke to him in a hopeful voice, her eyes shining with faint flickers of barely seen light. "I think the forest will provide us with the power we need. I've heard of stories where faith succeeded where raw magic failed, where prayer and belief provide the power to...deal with it." she said.
Domitian nods along with the others. When Moira asks him if he can still see it, he shudders. I don't think I'll ever unsee it... "Aye, I recall the spot. I'd rather not look again, but it shouldn't have moved, and that black map of veins will haunt my dreams for some time - I'll guide the way."
At Lyra's words, Domitian gets a hopeful look in his eyes. "I have seen Erastil perform a great many mighty works, and it would not surprise me in the least to see him handle it. If there's a way, we'll find it."
He then stood by and waited for Delan to swing the sword, watching with calm eyes. The man had to die, the least Domitian could do is bear witness.
Delan nodded at Moira and turned back to the bandit with resolution. The tip of his rapier hissed as he swung it up in a fencing position. "I'm truly sorry about this but I believe that your life is one of suffering and confusion. It has been twisted into something ugly and base and the power of Shelyn will cleanse this land of your hate."
The bard positioned the point of the sword over the bandit's chest just slightly left of the center. Before the bandit could twist out of the way Delan lunged, impaling the human through the heart.
The bandit's eyes bulged as the tip of Delan's sword unerringly found the most vulnerable organ in his body and pierced it. Blood began to trickle down the blade as the heart vibrated against the steel fitfully for several long seconds before stilling. The bandit's head slumped down and he was forever silent.
Moira watches the light fade from the man's eyes and knows she shouldn't feel as...happy about it. Maybe he wasn't so bad before he found it. Maybe he was redeemable like Delan before something twisted him into the monster before them. Maybe. But he wasn't now. This a mercy as much as it was justice. She gives Delan a moment to come to terms with taking another man's life before approaching. "Stand back now. You aren't going to want to see this." Once he has backed up far enough she draws her freshly sharpened sword and levels it at the body hanging from the tower.
She takes a deep breath and swings, slicing through the rope and his head in one swoop. Why? Because without a head, what came next was a little easier. It made the body seem less human. She waves Dom over and, with his guidance, begins to cut. The smell doesn't bother her. Hadn't since her first kill. No. The thing that twisted her stomach was that she was cutting into a man's body. A person's. This was not for survival, or meat, or materials. It was just pragmatic. Get the coin and dispose of it lest a wandering soul come across the same curse. She continued telling herself it was for the greater good as she cut. Eventually she finds the coin and cuts it carefully out, making sure not to touch it. She flicks it onto the wraps it up in the bandit's shirt.
She holds the shirt up, thinking. What Lyra and Domitian said made since. It sparked an idea. Going with her gut, a feeling really, Moira set about her task. First she said a prayer over the gem.
First we thank Erastil for this gift.
She then took the coin to the stream and washed it, careful not to touch it.
Next we clean and prepare the kill.
She then dug a hole for the man near the stream, placing him in a respectful pose and placing the coin on his chest.
What we can't keep or carry we bury and return to the earth.
She then searches around for a seed. No. Not one seed. Many. "Guys, I need seeds. As many as you can find," she says to the others. She gathers the seeds and counts out 67 of them. She places them with the coin and wraps them all up in his shirt and buries everything.
Life leads to death and death to life. It is a cycle. Two sides of the same coin. Just as good and evil are.
Over the mound she says another short prayer. She doesn't think about the words. She just let's her heart lead the way. "Erastil, I offer this hunt to you. Death to life. Bad to good. The cycle was broken and now may continue. May these souls find peace."
She looked after saying the prayer and let out a sigh of relief. That felt right.
Rose watched silence at all the transpired before her. The brief exchanges between Delan, Dom and Moira. The quick painful end finally for the bandit. Moira's cutting of the bandit to pull the coin out from his body. She couldn't help shivering, still remembering the attitude and mannerisms that he performed before his swift execution. "If you lovely ladies and gentlemen will excuse me but for a moment, I'll be right back." She quickly excused herself just as they finished pulling the coin out of the body. She went into the forest just out of eyesight and drew a deep breath. Then she proceeded to be greeted by whatever contents happened to still be in her stomach at that very moment. She shook and continued to heave for several moments longer before she finally was able to get herself back together emotionally, wiping her eyes and taking shuddering breaths. She regained as much of her composure as she could quickly muster and stepped back in front of the tree she had just been behind, came back a little closer to the rest of them, but then sat down away from them, her legs still shaking and unsteady. She decided to try and continue to calm herself back down, but at least not completely isolated from the rest of them as she rested with her head on her folded arms, which were balanced upon her knees.
Mehaila watches her companions finish the job, a bit confused at first, as her and Vetra had been burying the rest. After listening however, she understood and could not disagree with her companions. She would help find some seeds when asked, and says a small prayer to Calistria, asking her to give the man mercy if an external evil had twisted him, but to allow the souls of those he murdered revenge if he was willing. However, she was shaken up watching Moira cut into the body as if it was just a pig, and her face was ashen from the idea that it could have been her in that place, having known something of violent customers in her younger years.
Noticing Rosa had stepped away and now came back a bit unsteady, Mehaila stepped over to her and offered her a weak smile and said " Be happy you never had to experience a man like that intimately. Sometimes rough play is nice, but if half of what that.... creature said is true, you should not feel sadness nor guilt. " It was clear she was trying to give her a bit of comfort, but one could not bridge the difference in their ages. Mehaila was the eldest of the group that she knew, and she tried to maintain a clam demeanor when not flirting.
After a pause she states loudly for the group, " Me and Vetra found a good bit of prizes, if we want to look at them. I divided the arrows for us all, and figured the gold and silver will be for the group. Let us talk about our new products, and forget this nasty coin business. " It was a bit strained, but the best she had for the group.
Moira shakes herself from the melancholy mood. Back to business. She looks over at the items they had retrieved from the bandits. Much of it looked like trade goods. Money, barrels of things she didn't recognize, furs. None of that drew her like the weapons did. And there were a few choice pieces.
As the man was executed and Moira approached Lyra turned away with distress on her face. She motioned at the giant spider with a whispered word and the spider ran into the forest without a second's thought and was soon lost from view. The woman knelt by the edge of the river and began to wash, wiping down her face and neck with the clean river water and keeping her back to the gore behind her. For some reason what Moira was doing made her feel dirty as the butchery wasn't for food or anything natural. Part of her understood the need to dig out the foul artifact but the smells coming from the act were disgusting. She dug her athame out and buried her face in the holly branch, sucking in the clean herbal scent through her nose and sinking her mind into meditation.
Once the coin was collected and the burial detail began Lyra moved over to help while singing in a strange language. Her singing wasn't very good but the words were strangely soothing as she sang of spring and rebirth. As the last of the dirt was shoveled she pulled a seed from her bags, a shiny black oblong shape that she cradled with reverence in her palm while praying. She planted the seed among the 67 other seeds and brushed them all with her hollyberry athame. Once the burial was complete she held her hands over the grave and cast a simple spell that caused water to rain down from her palms. Once the ground was saturated enough she began casting a different spell over the grave, purifying the water over and over while the fluid settled down and touched the corpse. She would continue casting the spell 68 times until she was satisfied. She rose from the kneeling position and brushed the dirt from her knees with a contented sigh. "I'm glad that's over with."
Delan cleaned the blade of his rapier with a cloth he dug from his pocket. Once the metal was scoured clean he walked over and dropped the bloody rag into the campfire where it was swiftly consumed. He would not help with the burial as the memories of this wretched place played through his mind, instead moving over to the river and filling a waterskin with clean river water. Once full he would cast a spell over the waterskin with a prayer song, causing the water inside to take on a gentle white glow.
Once the holy water was ready the bard moved over to the burial and added his own song to Lyra's, his vibrant tenor adding complexity and beauty to her own untrained voice. When she cast the spell to rain on the grave he added his own contribution, pouring the holy water so that it mixed with the pure water the druid was creating while adding his own prayer to Shelyn.
The task of helping Moira dig out the coin was difficult, but not as difficult as he supposed it would be. The man was no more, the light and life fled from his eyes and his head from his shoulders; it surprised Domitian how much like cutting up an animal carcass it was. Just as an animal killed had to be cleaned and prepared, so too was this a cleaning process.
These are the thoughts he told himself, as he stood stoically by while Moira executed her grim task. He wanted to give her as much support as he could.
When the coin was found, it looked less like an evil artifact than he imagined it would. It didn't pulse with evil, or radiate in any way; for all practical purposes, it looked like nothing more than a simple coin. That made it all the more dangerous, given what it was. You wouldn't think, to look at it, that it would corrupt your soul in ways too dark to really begin to fathom. No, it looked like anything else, just one more piece of loot.
As she took the coin and began to wash it, Domitian would prepare the body for burial. As he does so, he continues to look at Moira, thinking. I am the holy warrior, such as it is, but this one has a holy touch in her life. Erastil surely moves in her. He helps to dig the hole and carries the body of the bandit over to it, but lets Moira take the lead in positioning the body. She seemed to have a good idea of what she wanted to do.
At the call for seeds, he does his part; with prayerful guidance, he collects seeds and piles them in with the others. Then he stands back, takes his holy symbol in his hand, and prays silently with Moira as she finishes the ritual. No more words were needed; Erastil would respond, he was quite sure of it. He simply joined in with her pleas, asking for the cleansing that must take place.
After all was done, he would try to take a moment with Moira to simply say "That was well and truly done, from the heart, exactly as it should be. Your father taught you well."
As the last prayer took hold something marvelous happened. As Delan poured the holy water and mixed it with the water Lyra was generating a white glow spread through all of it, the water hissing as it came in contact with the grave. As the holy water sank into the grave everyone could hear a ghostly screaming rise up from all around them as a foul wind whipped through the clearing.
A split second later she vanishes and time returns to normal.
Within moments the wind is gone and the grove silent as the glow from the holy water spreads though the entire grave. As the glow begins to fade there is a disturbance in the grave as a single silvery shoot pokes it's up. A thin silver stalk an inch tall that is topped with a single tiny red leaf grows out of the grave before settling down as the last of the light fades.
As the ritual finished the grove around them returns to normal, an owl in mid hunt hooting sounding from somewhere deeper in the forest. The moon hovered directly over head as today passed into tomorrow and the last of the battle energy flowed out your bodies and you feel generally tired.
You recognize the design of the masterwork studded leather armor and remember it's design and in a split second inspiration think of a way to craft the armor so that it does not impact movement or speed.
The axe is a masterwork dwarven waraxe made of steel and you know how to make it.
The fullplate is masterwork and after you second you remember how to make it although you aren't 100%.
Both of the longbows are composite and you remember the design. One of them has a draw strength of +3 and the other is +4.
The quarterstaff with black iron filigree was obviously masterwork. After a few seconds turning it over you remember the design.
The quarterstaff made of redwood is masterwork and you can see with your trained eye that whomever crafted the weapon was at best a journeyman crafter. As you inspect the weapon you barely feel the slight vibrations that feel almost like the sensation of your skin caressing wood. It must be magical!
Rose was breathing long and slowly, coughing occasionally from the bitter taste that lingered in her mouth. She heard Mehaila's voice and perked up, looking up at her with moist eyes. She gave a weak smile in return, speaking somewhat hoarsely. "Unfortunately, or fortunately one might think, before this adventure with my sister, I was fairly sheltered if you can believe it. Home making my tinctures and tonics and various liquid remedies..." She bit her lip as she looked away, her eyes seemed to focus on a far point in the distance. "I sometimes wonder if it was a wise choice we made, leaving where we grew up, where mother was buried..." She side and huddled herself up more.
After a few moments of silence she finally spoke up again. "Thank you for your kindness Mehaila. You are so sweet and nice, don't ever change." She looked back at her with the most genuine smile she could muster at the moment.
Mehaila watched in awe as it seems her prayer was answered. She wanted to tell the group of her vision, yet knew that the command from her Goddess to be quiet was much more important, and could possibly be a sign. She looks around afterwards, not sure anyone else had seen their deity, and felt that she had chosen the correct path with her life.
She did wonder if she should study the teachings more, and how she would help show them in camp more. She tries to tell them about the rest of what was found, but instead yawns widely. After a few beats she states " Should we not secure the area and invest in some sleep? Enough sleep makes one youthful, beautiful, and wise." She sounded tired, and wasnt sure if the rest felt as she did. It was possible seeing a vision of your Goddess made you tired. Especially one so appealing. She thought more on that and sighed, lost in visions of delight and pleasures.
"Ah, elf, sorry, the two races tend to... uh... blend?" She smiled awkwardly, "I don't mean to offend." She'd offer quickly before finishing the duties of the loot garnering, and then moving on to the bandit with everyone else. She, however, watched the work be done, admiring Moira's grit, it was actually something the kobold wouldn't balk at doing.
Vetra quickly helped Moira with the seeds, giving her any she found while she was foraging. With the most of the procession, Vetra stayed silent and observed. She was more intrigued by Moira's actions and rather impressed. Begrudgingly accepting that the human had smarts about her. Honestly the more time she spent with the human, the more she grew to appreciate her.
The gold kobold would continue to watch everything, drinking it all in as this was new to her. It intrigued her and the fact of the holy water that was poured only caused her to step closer to the proceedings. It was then she started slightly at the sudden ghostly screaming rising up from all around her and with the wind suddenly picking up.
She was left a bit stunned looking at the forest around her, already in a defensive posture as she thought they were in danger once more, but after a moment she relaxed just slightly. She looked at the odd plant growing from the grave, which only prompted her to suddenly dispense one of her spells to detect magic around her. She was a little on edge and wanted to get a better read on the area around her. Her eyes glowing just slightly as she quickly made a gesture with her claws to make the required signs before holding two 'fingers' up as she closed her eyes, focusing on the spell to get as much information as she could.
: After a minute you see multiple sources of magic. The two staves, two handaxes, string of pearl beads, the two small containers of colorful liquid, the scrollcase and the silver sapling.
Before:
I messed up, was Moira's first thought when she heard the scream. Her faith wasn't strong enough. The steps weren't right. The thing watching from the forest was going to attack. Then...
Nothing.
A silvery sprig with a red leaf pops up out of the grave. That...was a good thing right? She didn't know at the moment but the others did not seem panicked. Maybe it worked? Only time would tell.
Identifying:
The melancholy mood is washed away almost instantly the moment she lays eyes on the first item in the pile. A piece of Studded Leather Armor Vetra was eyeing. The kobold knew quality armor then. Good. Moira did too and this one was fine quality. It felt almost weightless in her hands. Someone had managed to reinforce key points in the armor while shaving away ounces overall. Moira had experimented with a few different tanning processes. Through smell and touch she identified the ones used on this piece. She had never figured out the optimal process but someone had, and now she could do it too.
"This is perfect for caster."[b] She looks at Vetra, then at the armor. [b]"I might be able to make some adjustments for...smaller individuals," she says.
Fullplate armor. Complicated and tedious. She'd have to have a better look back at Oleg's. "So that's where that strap goes."
And the composite Longbows? They were strong. One almost too tiring for her. She wanted it. "Damn. That's nice. Bone. Yew? Sinew. Always wondered what the layout was."
A waraxe. "Dwarven made. Gromff would approve."
Then two quarterstaves. One was obviously better than the other too. She moved the redwood staff around and felt something off about the weight. It seemed to shift. She ooh's and aw's when she figures out why. "I think...yeah. hollow center with...some fluid. Have to check. And brass caps. Lot of weight behind a blow and...Hey I think this is magic," she calls out.
And finally, a thin, razorsharp shortsword. Actually, not thin. There was a groove down the middle of the blade. A fuller. "Yes. That would reduce weight without hurting integrity."
Moira mumbles for a long time over the weapons. She was excited. She wanted to get forge delivered soon and start working. Get some tools. Some masterwork tools. Oh the ideas. Yet even with all the ideas running through her head. She still felt extremely tired and yawned. She looks up as Mehaila speaks.
"Sleep would be good. Just...maybe upstream a bit."
Lyra's eyes locked on the staves as Moira mentioned they might be magic and she cast a minor dweomer that allowed her to see magical auras. She smiled as the number of auras continued to grow the longer she looked at them but she kept her excitement under control. She drags her attention away from the loot as talk of making camp until morning started up. "I think we should camp tonight and then make our way back to Oleg's. This wagon is perfectly functional and we have a herd with no one to lead them. It would be foolish to leave all of this cut wood and camping supplies behind as we may be able to turn them into other goods, reused as they are or simply sell them." she said, motioning first at the riderless horses that were grazing grass not far from the group and then at the wagon that the loot had been piled on.
She walked around the wagon to gauge the quality of the wagon. After a full circuit she nodded in satisfaction before moving back with the group. "It's a little dirty but perfectly serviceable, meant to be pulled by 4 horses. Also we have enough mares and stallions to start our own horse breeding business. Might be something we want to keep in mind for the future. Now if you will excuse I will go see about the horses."
Lyra moved away again, heading towards the horses. At first they shied away from this unknown person but she cooed to them in a gentle tone and they settled down immediately, clustering around the woman to sniff her hair and shoulders, shoving their faces into her face. For the first time ever the woman smiled and laughed as the horses sniffed at her neck and tickled her with their long whisker. Soon the animals were led further upstream where the grass was longer and healthier and staked down, perfectly content to follow the red haired woman. In a few moments she had gathered the party's horses from where they had been hidden and staked them down with the rest.
Once the horses were settled Lyra went about untacking all of them and grunted under the weight of the bags of one of the horses. Opening them she saw wrapped pieces of what appeared to be freshly killed deer meat, most likely from the group that had arrived just before the attack started. "Plenty for us then." she said to no one in particular. She took all the deer out and found a flat rock to skin and debone all of the pieces.
Rose looked at all the various odds and ends, her eyes sliding across the various vials of mysterious liquids and she could feel the tingle of anticipation. "If you all don't mind, I'll get to identifying all the random bottled items for us." She begins to go through the bottles and identify them one by one.
All the liquids were as follows:
A potion of Enlarge Person caster level 3
A potion of Cure Light Wounds caster level 3
8 bottles of strong minty alcohol inside a wooden case(easily 40%)
She carefully studied one potion, then the other, smiling softly as she identified them. "If anyone would like either of these, please speak up." When she opened the first bottle of green liquid she was caught by the strong minty, aroma. Upon further inspection she gleaned it to be a strong alcohol with a minty bite to it. "And apparently there is a case of minty booze as well. Didn't someone make mention of the stag lord having a drinking problem? Or not so much a problem as an insatiable lust for the stuff?" She would look up curiously at the others, after carefully setting the booze aside.
After the cleansing ritual Delan would help by breaking down the bandit's tents and moving them to the new location further up river. There were more tents then party members so he staked one out for each person. Once the tents were constructed he gathered some of the firewood stacked on the wagon and started a fire with a piece of flint and steel he pulled from a small pouch on his belt.
"Sorry I forgot to mention it, that was one of the primary products we always had to be on the look out for. If they raided any merchant caravan that had strong liquor we were supposed to load it on a wagon and send it to the fort." Delan responded to Rosa while scavenging cooking pots and spices from the bandit's gear. He set water to boil and took the processed deer meat from Lyra once she was done processing it. Throwing the meat into the pot with some flour for thickening and the spices he salvaged he began to cook a tasty smelling stew.
As he was cooking a thoughtful expression began to grow on his face. "You know I have a crazy plan that might work. I'm not sure how sane it is to try to deal with the Stag Lord's fort right now from the stories I've heard about him but we have everything we need to infiltrate the fort. Those silver medallions you found are symbols of allegiance as one of the bandits who pays 'rent' to the Stag Lord and is given permission to pilfer in the area. We scuff ourselves up to look like bandits, wear the amulets and take the booze with us with some fast talking I recon we could bullshol our way right into the fort."
Delan looks over at the water barrels that were stacked on the wagon and a huge smile grew on his face. "In fact I think I have a perfect way for us to get in and get both the high mookity mook AND his cronies shol-faced smashed."