Zort circles round the campfire a few times. He picks through the salvaged bullets, examining each as if they were a diamond to be cut, picks three of them based on some mysterious criteria, and loads them into his revolver.
Zort, with a wry grin, listens to the discussion. He picks up the potion, puts a drop on his index fingernail and dabs the droplet on his tongue.
[dice=Perception to ID potion; DC 15+SL of potion]1d20+2
"You're right Dolgren. The penalty for banditry is death and we've been charged with upholding the law." Didier says, walking toward the young man. "Boy, you've been found consorting with bandits, and admitted as much. The penalty for this is death. I will now carry out your sentence." With that, Didier draws his revolver, cocks it, places the barrel against the young man's head and pulls the trigger.
As the body falls Didier says, "May whatever gods you kept keep you." He walks back to his allies, seemingly unphased. "We've got a lot to do, let's get on with it."
Treetopper finally chimes in after the Frenchie, "Sorry kid. At least your death will be quick."
Dolgren runs a thoughtful hand through his beard. "It would seem that we have vanquished our immediate threat; shall we return victorious to Fort Laramie to proclaim the news? We are two nights out, with scant knowledge of the land immediately around the Fort - my counsel is to return and explore that, ere we trek farther in this direction."
"Aye, sounds solid," Treetopper agrees.
Zort drums his fingernails against the potion bottle, making a light rapping noise. He hands the potion to Treetopper, "Drink this if you get plugged with lead. It'll make you feel better."
Zort looks at Dolgren, "Reasonable. Yes, a reasonable plan. Let's burn anything here that we won't take with us so that these human mutts have nothing left to return to."
Treetopper nods to Zort and stutters out a "thank you." It had been a good long while, since someone had given him something of value. He squirreled the potion away not to embarrass Zort by making too big a deal out it.
The group resolves to do some exploration, and sets about investigating the nearby forest. The going is slow in the thick undergrowth, even without any leaves on the plants. There is a normal amount of wildlife for the region, small mammals and birds mostly.
The first day passes without much of interest happening.
The second day, as they are walking through the forest, a cloud of glittering pink dust suddenly appears in the air in front of Dolgren. He inhales some of it despite himself.
The dwarven marshal suddenly feels a little tipsy. As if he'd had too much to drink. The forest air around them fills with a giggle in a tinkling high register. As if from a very small girl.
Dolgren shakes his head blearily. "Whut? Pink dust... he he he he he. Pink, in a forest! Pretty. Nice laughter. Haven't heard laughter in... such a long time." He sniffs loudly.
Dolgren gets maudlin when drunk. Too many of his old drinking buddies have died alongside him. Damned Southron rebels. He sniffs again.
Treetopper looks around with his hands on his weapons and asks the dwarf, "What happened?"
Zort raises an eyebrow, well the area on a gob where eyebrows are missing, at Dolgren. For years humans came to Zort asking for happiness, however brief. Zort pulses with a fleeting curiosity over the pink dust before consciously acknowledging the laughter.
"Come on out little one. We like games. Don't we boys?"
Didier looks about for the source of the dust, then casts a quick spell to detect magical auras.
Zort grins foolishly, and then pulls down his pants.
More tinkering laughter fills the woods around the marshals.
Noticing magic, Didier continues concentrating on the spell, looking for types and sources.
There is one aura.
Didier falls asleep. A tittering voice says, "Tehehe! You won't find me!"
Dolgren blearily notices Didier fall asleep and kicks him awake. "C'mon! There is more drinking yet ere you slumber."
He rather muzzily looks around for the source of the voice.
The voice says, "See ya later, boys!" Then it goes quiet. Treetopper catches a glimpse of a tiny woman with rabbit ears popping her head out of a bush, but then she disappears.
Treetopper looks where he last saw the tiny woman with rabbit ears, "you never told us your name." He calls after her.
Zort's eyes dart to the left and remain there for a few seconds. Then Zort darts his eyes to the right while slowing pulling back up his drawers. "Not the game that I had in mind, anybody know what in tarnation just happened?"
Treetopper wakes up the Frenchman if the Human doesn't awake on his own.
"Let's head on 'for one of us does worse than drop our trousers."
"I wonder what that was? We are lucky it merely wanted to play some sort of game. If it had meant us harm we'd all likely be dead." Didier says.
"Let's go. This place gives me the creeps."
"Yes, let's. I'm feeling homesick without my carriage."
Going through the wilds, Zort can't makes heads or tails of the local flora and fauna. He can remember walking through forests with his mother, while she named different plants, evidence of a short goblin lifespan appearing on her face as deep leathery wrinkles.
Zort can't remember a single thing from her lessons. How many generations of gob knowledge have been lost? Not to mention those insights might've come handy when making potions.
A new worrisome train of thought comes to mind and Zort loses focus on his surroundings and memories of his late mother. His whole way of life would be different. He couldn't think of any settlements to peddle his wares for. And if there were any, they likely wouldn't be interested in love or sleep draughts that the humans back east were so eager to guzzle down.
Adapt or die. Nothing's different than your life from 'for. You'll think of something to do for yourself.
Gus crawls out from Zort's hat, as if sensing Zort's unease, to give comfort from his shoulder. Gus nods along through Zort's inner conversation as if listening the whole time.
The rest of their second day of exploration passes without incident.
The third and final day of exploring the area around the bandit camp also passes without incident, other than a brief shower of snow shortly before lunch. The forest is unspoiled in the area, and old. Other than the bandit camp, and their encounter with the female voice, this section of the woods seems fairly empty of anything extraordinary.
"We need to find some food out here. I'm about out of rations." Didier says on the morning of the third day. "Must be some sort of creatures to hunt here."
As the day wears on, Didier chances upon a mountain goat, bringing it down with a fiery spell. Unfortunately this ruins a good portion of the meat, but the Frenchman is able to harvest enough to make well prepared and seasoned goat steaks that last the day.
"We should head back to the fort and stock up on provisions, I doubt a goat will wander into our path every day." Didier says after they've fully explored the region.
Dolgren has experience in living off the land and foraging; between them, he and Didier can feed the group, although it's not ideal.
The dwarf has spent a lot of time looking at the surrounding land, and is pleased with what he sees. All this is prime timber, and his own dwarven realms would pay gladly for it, as a source of pit props for mining and charcoal for smelting. To be sure, it would have to be transported, but the rail head at Omaha isn't so far away, and dwarven engineers could easily lay a spur to Fort Laramie.
And then, deprived of cover, those damn fey would be easy targets...
Dolgren smiles at his thoughts as the group trudges along.
"Agree with the Frenchmen. We should return to the fort and get food. They probably think the worse with our delay to arrive."
Zort opens a pouch containing only crumbs left of his rations. Gus jumps into the pouch and begins feasting on the bits. Gus squeaks happily while a the pouch bounches in Zort's hands.
Zort smirks. "I can go hungry for a day or too but we'll be needing food soon."