"Like i said, i come in peace!" He approaches the light of camp slowly and takes a gander.. But the fire is apparently really bright and his eyes can't adjust fast enough..
Castor remains silent, observing as he keeps building his tent. He eyes the stranger through the brush. For some reason, the half-orc seems familliar to him, but he can't quite replace where he's seen that face before.
"What is your name, traveler?" Castor asks. Perhaps a name would help connect the dots.
"Names Kurgan, and yours?" He eyes the white hair half-elf.. This fella is pretty close to a description i know of..
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Seeing one half-orc inquiring about the fire, Will calls back, "Surely there is room for one more." Looking around at the rather eclectic gathering, he asks the group, "Any of you a skilled hunter of game? Fresh meat is always better than hard tack."
Will then takes a few moments to see to Bob the mule, and make sure he is comfortable, all the while whistling a rather depressing dirge.
Brom, seemingly satisfied that the newcomer was willing to come into the light of his own accord, and not slink in the shadows like... and glances around quickly to see if he can spot Beau anywhere. As Kurgan steps fully into the light, Brom is forced to reassess the true size of small men. This man was nearly of a height to himself, and possibly his same weight as well. While some of the others he'd recently met were tall, they were also skinny, others heavy but short, and therefor deserving of the classification of small man. This newcomer was challenging the paradigm that all men not of The People, we small men. This is one one I would describe as 'small man'. There may be much to learn from this one, this Kurgan, I must watch and listen carefully.
"Hail Kurgan, and velcome. I am Brom of Zhe People. Zhis is Krasa." as he indicates the earth breaker with pride. At Will's question Brom raises a meaty hand, "I am known to be a hunter vhen needed."
Having had a successful day while traveling, Brom shares a brace of hairs, a gopher, and a collection of nuts he'd found while traveling that day, enough to feed five hungry mouths besides his own.
"Castor Antares at your service." Castor sounds hesitant.
"There's just something about this half-orc... Where have I seen him."
Though he can't recall where he has seen Kurgan, Castor feels ill at ease in his presence, as though his presence brought scenes of great danger back to mind.
(4 above 10, can provide for two people)
"I'm not much of a hunter, most of the time, but I had a few strokes of luck on the road. Castor fetches a sack from the saddlebags of his horse, revealing a hearty bounty of wild berries, fruit and nuts. "I can provide enough supplies to provide sustenance for two more, not including myself, plus all the drinking water any of you could need. Does anyone else have food they can share? I'm not much of a hunter myself, and I must admit that fruit and nuts alone make for a rather plain meal.
Edit: Castor couldn't see Dendarial even with a roll of 20. Also, please don't end the camping scene until Kurgan and I get a chance to play out our encounter, we've got a little background connection to deal out.
+2 if you are human.
Dendarial watched. Some were elves, but some were not. The small one could be a bandit yet. He would watch for a while. If the small one tried to steal from them and flee he would hunt it. He watched as they set up camp and listened to their small talk. They had charters too so they could be allies, or rivals... He would see what he could learn from them.
+2 if you are human.
Their names. Where they came from. Much else if he were patient. Then the Half Orc joined them. More reason to watch. He settled in, scratching the owl at his shoulder softly. It is not yet cold enough for a fire. I will rest here and watch over this group til morning.
To Castor, regarding his parentage, he gave him a wink. After which Tshilaba attempts to shake hands with as many people as he can, although his hand was smarting a little from the shake with the barbarian. That man had a really good grip. He even attempted to shake hands with the new one as well. "Good evening sir, I'm glad to make your acquaintance. Were you the one sneaking up on me or is it your friend who hasn't revealed himself yet?"
Castor remains puzzled for a moment by Tshilaba's wink, before understanding and chuckling. I ought to know better than assuming that any elf with Kyonin's accent is from Kyonin. Especially considering who I am.
Castor Antares.. So it is him.. As he offers a sturdy handshake to the large, scarred fellow.. "Well met Brom.. Good to see some non-violent people here.. I was beginning to wonder if this place had any.. Thank you all for a resting spot by a fire.. What brings you all out to these parts?" To the white hair.. "Castor you say? Were i still in the business of collecting you sir would make a fine pay day.. Did you know there was a price on your head?"
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"A price on Castor's head? I think that bears some explanation." says Will, his eyes beginning to appraise Castor someone would a piece of meat at the butcher.
In answer to Kurgan's inquiry, Will again pulls out the charter it seems everyone has, and shows it to the half-orc, "We are here on official business to see some good done in this land."
Castor's eyes widen in shock as his mind finally recognizes Kurgan's origins.
"Grimtooth..." He murmurs, almost like an animal's snarl, instinctively reaching for his bow, but staying his hand before he can seize it.
"Yes, I know plenty of the price on my head; you would hardly be the first to try and collect. How can I trust you have no intention of slicing my throat in the middle of the night?"
Without breaking eye contact with Kurgan, Castor explains to Will, "It was no more a year ago, in the early hours of the morning. I was resting in an inn in a small village east of here when a crew of bandits, this one there included, decided to take at pillaging the place. Their chief, Grim Grimtooth, did not take well to some upstart young cleric getting in the way of their plans and helping the local guard drive away the bandits. He has sworn a price on my head ever since."
Brom, who was watching the exchange with some interest, suddenly realizes they could have a serious problem with the newcomer. Not that he was overly concerned about Kurgan's supposed past, having gone on many a raid with The People against foes of many different shapes and sizes. In fact, Brom realizes, I might get to witness my first close-up look at a fight between small men! Good thing this is not my concern... It would be a pity if someone died this night, here's hoping that doesn't happen-- and continues to observe. Kurgan looked like the obvious favorite, big and strong. Castor seemed much more frail, but the way he reached for that bow suggested martial training. Brom propped himself up on an elbow and continued watching the two in silence, wondering if Kurgan really had come in peace and glancing around to see what the others were doing.
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Will follows Castor’s explanation of his and Kurgan’s history, however the half-orcs demeanor and desire to join the fire makes no sense… unless he is an advanced scout eyeing them up for a raid. Not wanting to voice his concerns quite yet, Will lets the elf and half-orc finish their discussion as he creeps over to where he dropped his shield, his eyes flashing between the two in case of violence.
Kurgan sighs aloud, almost looking ashamed of his past deeds.. "I am no longer of that ilk.. I admit that growing up the only son of a bandit chief it was only logical that i too would raid with them.. It never set to well with me.. Maybe it my mothers blood that shyed me away from it.." He pauses.. "I remember the raid you speak of.. A valiant defense for sure, my father does not take defeat lightly.. He still curses the white haired half-elf to this day.. Perhaps it was your tenacity and defiance.. It very seldom when the people simply do not gravel at his feat.."
"Regardless im done with that life.. I wish to move on and attempt to repay my debt of bad deeds with good ones.. I had no clue you were residing here and thus i was not looking for you.. I wish you no harm.. You have my word on my mother's soul.." At this last part his face becomes very serious.. You get the feeling he does not take oaths lightly..
"I wish to join the efforts in clearing the stolen lands and reclaiming them in the name of something good.. I hope you do not hold my past, or my name against me.. I will prove my worth in the name of The Great Dreamer!"
"...It very seldom when the people simply do not grovel at his feat..."
As Kurgan explains, Brom sighs through his nose, Maybe another night. and lays his head back down on the his shield-pillow, draping an arm over his eyes. One thing the half-orc says does make Brom react, but he waits till the impassioned speech is over. Raising the arm not covering his eyes and lifting a finger he clarifies one falsity in a matter-of-fact and relaxed tone, "Zhe People, ve do not grovel." Then lowers the arm and finger back to rest on his belly.
Castor eyes Kurgan for a moment, pensively, listening attentively as he speaks. His words ring true, his shame sounds genuine. "You sound like a man of your word. I can very much respect a man who wishes to walk away from bad roots."
Castor extends a solemn handshake for Kurgan, and nods.
"I welcome you to our number, Kurgan Grimtooth. May the stars of Desna shine light and fortune upon you and your loved ones. Now, shall we finish preparing camp? Night is soon to be upon us, and there is still much in the way of preparations left to be done."
Kurgan acepts the handshake.. "May she look upon you favorably as well.. What can i do to help? I don't mind taking a watch.. The ability to see in the dark comes in handy for that.." He begins to unpack his bedroll and make a spot for himself..
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Hearing the half-orc’s response and Castor’s acceptance of the man, tension visibly drains from Will’s face. ”Brom, there are many types of people in these lands. I’m sure the people that Kurgan referred to were not yours, and therefore no insult was meant.” Seeing the others getting settled for bed, Will pipes up, ”There are bandits in the area, perhaps we should keep watches? I’ll take the first watch if no one minds?” Will then fetches his drum and adds a deep tenor voice into a reasonable song meant to soothe and relax
Brom sits up long enough to peel off his chain shirt, tugging and pulling and getting red in the face with the effort of it. Eventually though, he's free of the thing, and those nearby can see the riot of scars covering his torso. Some appear earned in battle or maybe accidents, but the vast majority are small and precise. There are some designs and others are just straight cuts, but in their totality they do create an arresting sight for anyone seeing them for the first time. There is a fairly recent cut high on his chest, sitting untreated and you may even see some dirt smeared into it. Brom, for his part, pays the cut and the other scars no mind, settling himself into his blanket and bouncing his foot in time to Will's decent tune. "Second vatch! Mind zhe bells." he responds from his prone position, fully intending to assist in protecting their motley crew.
"As I've said earlier, I am at my most alert and efficient in the first hours of dawn. If it is no issue to your all, I would gladly take my turn of watch then. It will give me ample time to commune with the stars and pray to Desna for the day's blessings."
Suppressing a yawn, Castor extracts what could best be described as a cacophony of bells and rope from the saddlebags his mare had carried all day. He piles his armor and belongings and pulls the whole of it inside his tent, next to his bedroll.
"Unless anything else requires my attention, I had best get some rest. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."
"Well, well, it seems the old man was right. And 'ere I'd have never thought to have seen it, but there ya go. Lookie boys, seems the prodigal son 'as done thrown himself in with a bunch of fancy folk from the city. Shame on your hide boy.
The party is surprised to hear someone speaking from the road in a guttural tongue, and by its tone it appears almost taunting in nature. Looking past an opening in the trees, illuminated by the flickering campire, they see a trio of humanoids. Two are orcs, and are outfitted in chain and are holding short swords at the ready, while a third appears unarmed, dressed in leather and is human by appearance.
These are members of your clan, led by Narol Pothman, one of the scouts your father employed on his raids. You know he is just the person with the skills to track you down if it was declared to do so. He's a half elf with a taste for bloodshed, and is quite proficient at it.
The man who spoke before switches to common, "Now, we've orders to bring this one back to 'is pops see, and while it doesn't say anything about trussin' up you lot as well, from the looks of things you just happen to have found a load of my lost loot." He gives a muffled chuckle and elbows one of the orcs at his side. "I'll make you a deal. You strip out of those fancy duds, leave your stuff there by the fire, and beat feet down the road. Do that and you get to live to see the dawn."
From somewhere in the woods a bow string is heard, its characteristic twang echoing through the trees.
The arrow flies true (I hope) and buries itself into the speaker.
From the far side of the fire from the speaker the party hears. There is our answer bandit. You have found a warrior of Desna's Vengeance and shall not leave these woods alive.
Then, in the elven tongue you hear [b]Charge the speaker my friend. Those with very keen ears may hear the sounds of a bird taking flight.
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Will hears the orcs demands, stopping his song and putting down his drum. ”Hey guys, I think I found something we may want to address.” Fingering the sword at his hip, Will slowly starts to get up, slipping his shield onto his arm as he does so.
Figuring the two largest members of their band are always ready for a fight, Will mutters a few words in elven
Kurgan stands, pulling a Heavy Flail from his back.. "I just met you fellows, so i wouldn't have you in this unless you wish it.. I will not return with these men.. Im done with my father and his way of life.."
"I take it you lot expect me to surrender as part of the loot, as well?" Castor asks with a touch of sarcasm, drawing his longbow.
"There are six of us to the three of you. Do not be foolish. Flee now and we may not pursue you."
The speaking man lets his threat hang in the air for a moment, when suddenly an arrow streaks in from the woodline and buries itself deeply in the man's neck, sending him staggering to the side and ending his ability to continue with his speech. The guards to his side madly glance around the area, trying to determine the source of the missle and seeming to have completely lost interest in the group surrounding the campfire.
The speaker, still reeling from the ranger's deadly bow and completely shocked by the sudden attack from a different direction, pulls something from his bandolier and presses it to his lips. A moment later he is gone from sight.
Tshilaba watches the proceedings and the conversation with interest and good humor. He had been traveling alone the past few days, and it was nice to know how these young kids were still capable of making good decisions now and again. It was just plain cute.
When the orcs arrive, he readied himself for action. After the arrow cuts in to the leader's speech, he figured that diplomacy was over with. He sticks his hand in his pocket and holds forth his staff which has a pleasant glow all of a sudden, and then the orcs over there start getting really drowsy.
The two orcs, standing there preparing a vicious assault, yawn suddenly and both collapse into a heap, leaning against each other as if they were long lost forgotten lovers.
However...
From the cover of the forest come several arrows that whistle in to the camp...
One of the arrows heads straight for the favored son of Grim, who shouldn't have ran off in the first place!
The arrow whizzes by Kurgan's head and imbeds itself in a tree further into the woods. Cappi, hidden to the group and the orcs, looks up and notices a that had he been an inch taller, it would have nailed him in the skull.
The second arrow, flies in at Will...
...and buries itself in his chest, splitting through clothing and armor to find the soft skin beneath.
The last arrow heads for the sneaky wizard who was rude enough to put the brawny orcs to sleep...
...and connects, shearing through clothing and piercing his upper left arm.
"Very well, if it must come to weaponry, then so be it. Comrades of fortune, may the stars of Desna guide your strikes and your shots. I offer you the gift of chance, so that we may prevail!"
Castor seizes the wooden butterfly that hands from his neck by a loose chain, and brandishes it with his right hand, keeping his bow held in his left. The symbol glows bright, and what can only be described as a shooting star flies off into the distance, sprinkling the nearby field with stardust. At once the party's weapons feel lighter and more stable. Fierce courage flares in their hearts.
Cappi has to cover his mouth as the arrow whips through the forest underbrush and embeds itself in the trunk beside him. You haven't been seen. He assures himself.
Carefully stepping through the brush, he creeps amongst the trees hoping to use his temporary anonymity to get a drop on some of those archers. Two daggers glisten for just a moment amongst the leaves and branches, before the careful halfling buries the hands that grip them beneath the folds of his clothing.
His movement carries him quietly toward the opening path under the cover of the dense flora. However, he makes far more noise in doing so than he would have hoped...
You find yourself just 20' south of an archer hiding in the woodline.
...unfortunately, his eyes shift immediately to your location within the trees.
Too fast, Cappi! Too fast! The halfling forces a cheesy grin in the archer's direction. You're a target now, Brightspinner.
Brom revels in the glory of battle, eyes taking in each detail as arrows begin sailing through the trees. He closes his eyes, breathing deeply, Come Krasa, let us feed our spirits, and crashes northward through the tree, right past Cappi, swinging the huge warhammer around and down in all directions, shouting "KRASAAAA!!!" and coming like a demon stampede from hell at the bandit to the north of him. He stops about 10' shy, chest heaving with exertion, Krasa still whirling through the air and his eyes full of the promise of death. He stumbles a bit at the end, however, taking much of the threat out of his reckless rush.
Kurgan pulls his crossbow and takes a shot before moving 30' towards the archers..
Kurgan takes aim and fires with his crossbow, returning arrow for bolt. The missile sails widely into the trees and disappears.
The elven ranger, seeing a target that the group he is protecting does not yet see, lets fly while calling. Ware the hidden foe, there!
The arrow flies true and marks the location of a hidden archer.
Meanwhile a bird of the night swoops down from on high and plummets, claws first into one of the other archers.
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After shooting the elf moves half speed, trying to stay hidden.
Brom flies through the underbrush at the archer to the north, creating quite the diversion for his teammates and scaring the tar out of the archers in the process. He manages to make himself a very likely target, but fails to inspire the fear in his enemies that he was hoping for.
Den lets an arrow fly at the archer north of his position, the projectile striking true and penetrating deeply into the man, burying its steel point in the man's spine and throwing him to the ground, the last bit of light quickly fading from his eyes.
Acio dives down from the sky and rakes its claws against the middle archer's face as it completes its dive, screeching at the enemy before lifting itself back into the air and out of his reach.
The archers, both realizing they are severely outmatched and outnumbered, but knowing the punishment for failure, step back further into the woods and fire at the barbarian, who is very clearly going to put at least one of them through a tree with that over-sized hammer of his...
...and one of the arrows strikes true, nearly missing the mighty barbarian and slicing a furrow across his forearm before vanishing into the underbrush.
The pair of orcs sleep soundly, blissfully unaware of the combat unfolding around them.
Castor takes notice of the two arrows striking his fellow spellcasters. His hands glow with light as he focuses positive energy. Then, with a shout, he releases it, and a faint pulse travels across the ground, focusing on Will and Tshilaba.
Smiling as they wounds lessen considerably, Castor steps ahead briskly, taking cover in the bushes Cappi had attempted to conceal himself in.