Once more, Audsley's throw strikes true and his bomb explodes in the bandit's face, knocking the man to the floor of the watchpost. Emil clearly just needed a rest and a light trot as he rides around a small copse of trees and casually flicks his lance down. Over a foot of steel pierces right through the heart of the unlucky bandit, who falls to the ground bloody and lifeless.
Things are returning into a repeat of the rout at the Trading Post, as only two fifths of the bandits remain in a matter of ten seconds.
Emil's eyes, still wide in shock, go from the dead man to Flora, who snorts derisively. "Why do you keep breaking my style girl?" he asks, a question that is replied by a soft knicker.
The hits just keep on coming as Janna moves around and shoots at the bandit, which buries deep into their side, but doesn't fell them. Grimacing through the pain, the bandits releases their readied arrow, with much less impressive effect.
Hearing cries from the bandits to the north that do note bode well for them, Franka tries to cut the fight short. Surrender now, and you might walk out of this alive. You heard what happened to the others here..."
She readies her sling stone, tossing it in the way of the first bandit that makes an aggressive move within her line of sight.
Sera and Zev both rush forward, bounding across the river one after another while doing their best to keep up with their mounted companions. Joining Audsley near the downed log, Sera takes a second to cast a skeptical glance at the portly man that had just moved just as swiftly as her wolf friend. "What was in that drink?"
Túrante hops back to her feet and tries to get back up the rope to deal with the bandit above and use the platform for a little sniping of her own.
She falls again.
The bandits circle through the trees, trying to maintain range. One shoots Janna with a lucky shot (before backing away like a coward)! A dagger aimed at Audsley luckily falls short.
Audsley does indeed look different to Sera; bulkier around the shoulders, his head pushed forward and slightly down, with longer arms and a narrower waist, he seems to be a predatory version of himself, and moves with an alacrity that hints at his new speed.
"A mutagen, dear Sera," he rasps, voice low, a smile curling his lips. "Designed to enhance my agility at the expense, unfortunately, of my sense of self-preservation. Hence my presence here on the front lines."
Seeing movement through the trees, he glances down the length of the log and espies Kressle moving into view.
"Ah ha," he whispers. "I see a rat."
Drawing forth a bomb, he throws it high in the air so that it will land right on her head.
Túrante dusts herself off and tries again.
... with the same results.
Franka gives Audsley a really hard stare, trying to reconcile her image of the curious boy with the changed figure next to her. Right..." is all she can manage in a flat voice.
Cringing from the arrow lodged in her shoulder, Franka drives Heimdall back across the stream. "So far for surrender. These folks look tougher than the ones we met at the Outpost. I think we could use some help. The Veil is thin here, I should be able to summon something from the Æther." Franka moves her hands around, then seems to 'grab' at something. While she kneads and tear at the invisible object in her hands she starts chanting, humming a string of nonsensical syllables vibrating deep in her throat, that are occasionally interrupted with a short series of grunts and barking sounds.
Audsley's response was hardly enough to sate the young druid's curiosity but now was hardly the time to probe further into the strange transformation. Instead, she followed Audsley's example and aimed her weapon toward the bandit's leader. Zev stepped forward, putting himself between the fearsome woman and his two nearby human companions. The wolf's fur stood on end as he lowered his head with an audible growl, practically daring Kressle to try getting past him.
Emil steers Flora through the brush, all the while cursing as small branches whip in his face. Finally, he clears the undergrowth, only to realise he won't have a chance to help right then and there unless he pushes Flora. Something he hates.
He kicks, but too hard. Flora almost stops at the ungentle prodding. Emil has no choice. He drops his lance and readies his newfound bow.
The bandit leader recoils against the combined assault of arrow and bomb. She looks like she's about to back away, but the glowering wolf gives her pause.
She spits out, "Mangy cur!" before drawing an axe off her belt, attacking Zev!
Her axe comes down heavily on Zev, biting deep into the wolf.
Túrante stands up yet again, sighs, and unlimbers her bow as she pushes up off the ground. She sends an arrow screaming across the encampment toward the bandit woman.
(-4 for firing into melee)
In response to Kressle's encroachment, Zev lunges at the bandit, but misses.
Audsley's tongue pokes out of the corner of his mouth as he hefts his last bomb. He bounces it in the palm of his hand for a moment, gauging the distance, and then hooks it high overhead at Kressle.
His bomb casts, and completely without any further resources, Audsley grins and crouches down behind the log.
Franka's incantation comes to an end, as she directs the invisible 'object' she's been kneading to the floor, about ten paces in front of her. The air seems to shimmer, and out of nowhere appears an old wolf, his fur in patches of grey coated with a thin layer of reddish dust. The wolf comes jumping from the shimmering air, and immediately charges at the remaining bandit.
Franka stares at the wolf for a while, amazed at how easy it was to form the Rift. It really worked! She then heels Heimdall forward, and draws a shortspear.
Under the barrage of stones, bows, arrows, and, (unlikely enough) wolves, the bandit leader falls to the ground unconscious! Similar to at the Trading Post, you face the question of what to do with the bandits. A few are definitely worse off than the ones at the Trading Post were, though the Leader looks like she might be able to recover on her own.
There isn't an immediate time concern, though you do find evidence after a cursory search that there may be up to another half-dozen bandits that weren't present in the camp when you attacked.
Audsley stands on his tip-toes as he watches the fight unfold around Kressle, and when she goes down he drops with a fist pump, grinning around at those around him with a savage air of victory on his broad face.
Then he shivers, almost convulses, and quickly sits down on the log. His face blanches, he almost bends over, and then throws his head back to inhale with a sharp hiss of air. Raising a hand to fend off any concerns, he takes a moment to simply focus, and then his body seems to shrink, growing shorter and stouter as he reverts to his normal self.
When the process finishes, he smiles self-consciously, and passes a faltering hand over his brow. "I - ah. Yes. Well. That was interesting, wasn't it?" He rises and adjusts his glasses. "Exhilarating and terrifying both. Ahem."
Peering in the direction of Kressle, he glances at the others. "So, um, are we going to give these bandits the same treatment? Let some off with a stern word and a brand, and the leader, well ?"
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"If it stops being terrifying, you've stopped being human," Janna adds grimly, pulling the arrow out of his upper left arm. As the adrenaline wears off, signalling the end of the easy part of dealing with bandits, he tacks on, "but if its stops being exhilirating, you've stopped living," with relief and sardonic wit mixed evenly into his voice.
"Scars for the common thieves. Such is our way, now," and the life of the leader, Janna leaves unsaid.
Surveying the camp, it's apparent that the force you fought here is roughly half the numbers you might have encountered; one overly helpful bandits threatens you with the information that a hunting party is out gathering supplies. Regarding the Stag Lord they initially clam up unless pressed.
In the center of the camp, you find a cache of goods and ill-gotten loot. In addition to the tradegoods, jewelery, coins, and furs, you find a fine lute that is engraved with the initials O.L., Sera recognizes it as one that Oleg frequently played on long nights. Additionally, there is a case of liquor that a few of aficionados recognize as worth 20 crowns a bottle.
As soon as the final bandit goes down, Sera is already on her feet and rushing toward Zev, nearly sliding across the ground as she drops to her knees and wraps her arms around the wolf. To his credit, Zev doesn't even flinch, nor does he shy away from Sera's enthusiastic show of affection. Sera pulls away after several seconds, fussing over his wound in an almost motherly way. "Tsk. Look at you. What were you thinking? You're going to get yourself killed if you keep acting like a hero." Scooting herself closer to the spot where Kressle's axe had landed, Sera begins channeling her magic. "Who are you trying to impress anyway? Is there a Mrs. Zev you're not telling me about?" With a teasing smile and a playful nudge, Sera hops back to her feet as the magic runs its course.
The pair trot back to the rest of the group, though Sera's judgmental gaze remains locked on Audsley the entire time. "Interesting. That's one word for it." Sera's arms folded across her chest as she continued to study the man suspiciously, unable to let go of the fact that one of the people she was traveling with was hiding a monstrous form. Finally prying her eyes away from Audsley, Sera turned toward Janna. "We might want to just tie everyone up for now, at least until the rest of the camp's occupants return."
Franks dismounts as soon as it's clear the the fight is over, watching as the wolf she summoned quickly shimmers out of existence. On their world, at least... She then wanders around the place the the wolf had appears, muttering to herself and takes notes, despite the arrow still lodged in her shoulder.
When she's done with her studies she joins the others. "Janna, could you take care of this, please?" she asks as she points to the arrow in her shoulder. In return, she takes Janna's left arm in her hands. While massaging the flesh around the wound, she works her magic. "Spirits of life and renewal, by the wisdom of Elder Annik, and Mother Ulna before her, I ask your guidance and power to heal this man..." As she speaks the words, the wound on Janna's arm heals for the better part.
--
When it comes time to deal with the prisoners, Franka takes the dagger from her belt and starts heating it over a fire. She repeats the ritual through up at the Outpost, giving the bandits a stern look and words of compassion that fail to hit the mark. "We have no quarrel with you. Leave, go North to Brevoy and find a decent way of living. That's your way forward in life."
"What do we think about the others, the bandits who were off? Should we wait for them here and ambush them, or leave and let them figure it out for themselves? The unseen enemy can be more daunting than the one that's in plain sight. I say we strip this place and go, to leave them wondering what happened."
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"Not a problem," replies Janna, "but be calm. This is going to hurt."
Janna gets a firm grip on the arrow's shaft, and with a swift pull removes it, head and all, careful to not rotate the arrowhead itself.
Then a bit of direct pressure to stymie any bleeding-
Thoughts of field-dressing wounds are cut short when his own arrow wound start closing up. He rotates/flexes his arm to appreciate the significantly diminished pain.
"That is significantly more efficient than a field dressing. Wounds like this typically relegated me to a week of inactive duty," Janna says, appreciative.
Maybe the Solicitor's big band of civs was well-chosen, Janna cannot quite bring herself to say out loud. Yet.
---------
There is now precedent.
"At this point you are guilty of the crime of banditry and theft. There is no place in this land for scum. Bandit lives are forfeit."
Janna paces a bit.
"What did Kressle here promise you? Fortune? Comfort? A place to belong? Hope? The Stolen Lands no longer tolerate the existence of common bandits. We," Janna points to the rest of the group, "are willing to provide all of those things- -hope, fortune, comfort, belonging; fair folk are deserving of all of these."
Janna pauses, motions to Franka as she heats her blade.
"You will be marked as ex-bandits. Your lives will be returned to you. An honest life from here on earns you all of the rewards available to every man. A return to banditry will cost you your lives."
Franka winces as the arrow is ripped from her shoulder, but she bites back the pain and grunts through the worst of it. "I'll be fine, I've had to suffer through worse than this. I'm glad me healing was effective, though. The way there's bandits everywhere, we don't have the time for a week off our explorations." As an aside, she adds "I could definitely feel that the Veil is thinner here, and I have a suspicion we haven't even entered the Vale proper."
Emil, finally retrieving his lance, looks quizzically at Audsley. "So that mutagen, can you make that for everyone? Does it have to make you not want to self-preserve?" he asks, only somewhat interested in the answer. It's clear he is stalling for time. Finally, he blurts: "Listen, we need to talk to these guys before we let them go. And I'm fine with doing that. I'm also fine with killing. But I can't be a murderer. I'll do what needs to be done with that woman, but I can't do a repeat of what I did before. That's not me. There has to be another way that's just as just but doesn't make me feel like I'm a Grey Gardener. I mean a murderer. Same thing. And no, I won't let any of you take my place and do it."
His outburst ends and he looks away, flustered and slightly embarassed. A fighting man who doesn't like killing. That's got to be a first for them. Flora nickers softly. After a moment, he raises his head back up and looks around at his companions. "So... Ahem. Anyone smarter or wiser than me have a suggestion? I'll take anything." As his eyes pass over Franka, a random thought passes through the young man's mind. Wonder what that Veil thing is. Ask later Emil; priorities man, priorities!
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"When we agreed to this charter, we agreed to become the agents of society here. We agreed to become the ones who enforce punishments to those who would harm others. We agreed to become the consequences," Túrante says quietly.
"We can give these bandits choices, but at some point there will be some who, if they are not stopped, will hurt other people. Maybe kill others. We can try to prevent that, and the way that high justice is enacted does so by execution." She takes a moment to glance about the forest, as if husbanding her thoughts, before she continues. "We haven't the power to compel them by magic, which would be a terrifying proposition anyway. So we must compel them by persuasion: By convincing them to do things the way we see them, and by making sure they know that the consequences of not doing so will be severe."
"We are no longer just 'normal people' who don't want to be killers. We took on the responsibility of protecting the folk who live in these lands, of defending merchants and travelers and people who live here, from other people who would prey on them. And that may have a cost," she says soberly. "And it raises the question... if you won't kill the leaders of these bandits, and you can't convince them to change, then what?"
She sweeps her arm out and says, "I agree that killing is a last resort. It is the ultimate removal of personal autonomy. What we have to decide is, what part of your conscience will you listen to -- today, not to execute these bandits; or tomorrow, when it tells you that you could have stopped the bandits you didn't execute from going on to rob and murder someone else?"
"There is no good answer. There is just learning to live with the answer you choose." At that last line, the elf princess's lip trembles for a moment, and it looks like she is on the verge of tears. Then she takes a deep breath and it passes, leaving her composed.
Audsley ducks the questions that are tossed half-heartedly his way, and instead focuses fiercely on Turante's words. He frowns and nods, and then turns to the others.
"I, um, have to agree with Her Highness. We - back at the Trading Post - set a precedent, and the efficacy of that message will depend in large part upon the, ah, consistency with which we enforce it." He removes his spectacles and wipes them before putting them back on. "It's an awful business, enforcing justice, but I don't see how we have any choice now. When I decided to go along with killing the leaders, it tore me up to no end. But I made my peace with it then, and I'm going to stay by that decision. No matter how galling it may seem, or be. Um."
He looks around almost apologetically. "I don't see how we have any choice unless we're intent on undermining any chance we might have at establishing some authority out here. Kressle has to, well. You know." He mimes pulling a rope around his neck and sticks out his tongue.
Emil shakes his head, despairing at the situation. "Ok... You both make a good point." he sighs, and closes his eyes, wincing. "Anyone have an equally good opposite point? Or an idea as to how to execute someone without it feeling like murder?"
Emil manages to win over the two bandits that survived, who have more information to share (and are clearly less loyal to their leader)
“I only seen our boss a couple of times. He's a monster of a man. Calls himself the Stag Lord. He’s a deadeye with the bow, and I saw him crush a prisoner’s hand to mush in one fist. Come to think of it, I’ve never seen him without his creepy stag helmet on— some of the boys think he ain’t got no face under it, but not me—I think that creepy helm is his face!”
One other bandit adds in, "He's a bloody drunk too. All that booze under the platform’s for him. He's half of what he used to be, and ain’t never been right in the head, how beautiful women visit him in his dreams. Personally, I wouldn't care if he dropped dead tomorrow, but even drunk out of his mind he's still got a fair amount of fight to him.”
The first adds, “It’s hard keeping track of who’s working for the boss, so he gave us a master phrase as a sort of password: 'Nobility.' The bastard is bloody obsessed with nobility, raving about how he'll get it and be the Lord of these lands. He's crazy but... it just felt right to follow somebody, you know?"
The second: "Last I heard he's based out of fort somewhere on the northeast shore of the Tuskwater. He's got a motley bunch of bodyguards and several of his most loyal lieutenants."
From the loot that you find, one notable absence is Svetlana's wedding ring. When asked about it, one of the bandits says "Two whole bags of spoils went up and missing one night a few weeks ago. All we could find was tiny tracks; lots of 'em."
Emil's hesitation is finally enough to put an end to the peculiar and oddly intent glances Sera was constantly casting toward Audsley whenever she was fairly certain the alchemist wasn't looking her way. His declaration and his pleas were met with a raised eyebrow of confusion at first, at least until Sera took what she already knew about the knight and put the pieces together.
Sera walked towards Flora, holding out one hand to keep the horse still and another to gently stroke the animal's neck. Keeping her attention focused toward the horse, Sera speaks softly, her words seemingly meant more for the horse rather than its rider. "Emil...always the gentleman. I'm surprised he's not carrying you around instead of the other way around." A sidelong glance is cast back at Emil, a noticeable smirk curled on Sera's lips.
The druid offers Flora a final pat before giving her full attention to Emil, her taunting smile slowly fading as her tone turns serious. "Kressle being a woman shouldn't change things, Emil. I'm not saying you have to be the one to do it but once a rampaging beast gets a taste for blood, it has to be put down for the safety of everyone else." Sera steps closer before continuing, placing her hand on the rider's knee. "But if you want a way out...talk to her. Find humanity and a desire to change in her and I will listen to what you have to say. Otherwise, I'm afraid the others are right."
Audsley wanders off a bit, rubbing his chin and studying the muddy ground by the river, trying to divine the direction they lead off in and whether it's any use to try following them.
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Janna interjects, grimly, "it isn't murder. It is justice. Remember the arrows they put in your friends and the innoncents they terrorize and the peace their mere presence shatters- -execution is not murder, to leave her free is."
Janna pauses, nods to Turante, and continues, "Its not nice. It won't ever be easy. But it is our duty, Emil."
Janna lowers his voice enough that the bandits cannot overhear, and adds "if being the executor of justice is too much, I can take up that mantle. But the deed must be done. It has become our way."
Franka listens intently to the speeches by Emil and Túrante. She makes an obvious effort to ignore Túrante's moment of weakness at the end of hers. A while later, she nods agreement with Janna's assessment of the situation. "We set down the rules when we confronted the bandits at the Outpost. There may come a time when we have to make exceptions, and we should never lose sight of the personal circumstances and consequences, but being slack because we can't stomach to do what's necessary will do more harm than good. To us, to the people still living here in the Stolen Lands, perhaps even to the bandits themselves. Besides, I did warn her... She made her choice to defend these ill-gotten gains. I'm with the Lady Túrante and Janna in this matter."
--
Franka's head whips around at the bandits last words. "Tiny tracks? Where?!" She drops what she's doing and hustles over, dropping on her haunches to examine the tracks. "Hmm, interesting. Could it be...?"
Túrante nods as Janna speaks. "Consistency will help us in future dealings, but it is always good to remember to hear your conscience."
She moves to take Emil's hands in her own and looks straight into his eyes. "This cannot become routine, or you will lose that voice. We do difficult things because they are the only way we can deal with the problems we face, but we never have to take pleasure in them. It's not killing you should be wary of -- it's how you face it that is meaningful."
You identify the tracks of several "Mite"s, evil trickster fae. After following the tracks a short distance they appear to be heading in a vaguely South East direction, but the trail goes on for miles.
"Hah, I knew it!" Franka straightens in a hurry, a bright fire in her eyes. "We're dealing with Mites, trickster folk from beyond the Veil. Oh, this place will be gold!" She stares off into nothing and stretches out a hand, as if pushing gently at an invisible boundary. "They're not here anymore... I suggest we take a good look around the area, since we're supposed to be charting this land, but then we should follow these tracks. We can't waste this opportunity... Can you believe it? Actual mites!"
"It might be worthwhile to explore some of the surrounding terrain. We can use this location as a temporary base of operations," suggests the elf woodswoman.
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Emil nods gravely, finally looking back into Turante's face. "Alright." he comments soberly as he pulls his hands from the elven woman's grasp. He looks over to Janna, adding "Thanks buddy, but I don't give the work I'm not willing to do to others. That's not what they taught me at the Bank down south." His eyes finally rest upon that of the last prisoner. The leader. Somberly, he moves forwards, drawing his sword as he does. "Hey Sera? Could you find Flora some water? Thanks."
It's painless. He hopes. That the woman is unconscious probably helps. For a moment he almost wishes he had a greatsword. It'd make beheading that much easier. Heh. Another executioner with a thing for heads in the family. Must be in the blood. he thinks, with more than a trace of bitterness laced in with the self-depreciating humor. Or maybe it's just the Galtman in you. comes unbidden.
Once the deed is done and his blade is clean, he walks back to the others. "So. That's done. I'd like to crack a joke here but I've run out. So onto more serious things; whats with the tracks?"
Brought up to speed, he turns to Franka. "So... When you say Veil, you'r enot talking about a garment right? Pretend I'm... Scratch that. I'm an idiot. Explain the Veil to me now that you know that." Addressing the others he continues: "And yes, I agree that we should explore the rest of this area with this area as a base camp, but after we've tracked where the tracks lead before the next rainfall, buried the bodies and after I've shaved. If I let this grow any further, people will think I'm Kellid. Janna, can I borrow your razor? Mine isn't nearly as sharp."
"What's wrong with a bit of Kellid fierceness?" Franka teases Emil. She doesn't wait for a reaction, eager to talk about her specialty. "To answer your question: No, it's not about garments. Also, I don't think you're an idiot (and neither should you)." Franka clears her throat before launching into her lesson. It's clear that she's given this explanation before, more than a few times. "The Veil is what seperated out world from the Æther. You may have heard of that before, or maybe not. Doesn't matter. The Æther is a world behind our world. Or to be more precise, a whole collection of worlds." Her talking speeds up and she makes bold gestures while talking to illustrate her words.
"It's like a stage at the theater. There's a curtain, the backdrop, which is like out world, everything around us. And there's actors on stage, which is... us. But then, consider what could be behind the backdrop. There could be another part of the stage there, with its own backdrop, and more actors. Only, you normally don't see or hear them. Like I said, it's a whole collection of world, home to pretty much anything you can imagine: fae, spirits, angels, devilkin and elemental creatures. It's said that even the elves can trace their ancestry back to the Æther," she adds with special reference to Túrante.
"Anyway, the curtain I mentioned, that separates our world from everything behind it, is called the Veil. And just like a curtain in the theater, sometimes you can get a peek through, or 'grab' something - or someone - from the other side. Magic can do that, and in some special places the Veil is so thin that out world and the Æther almost meet. Creatures from the other side could even come to our world..." With that, she pauses for dramatic effect.
"As you may have guessed, the Stolen Lands here contain a lot of such places where the Veil is very thin. Among scholars, these lands are therefore also known as the Æther Vale. - Yes, I know: Vale, Veil, it's confusing... - Still, our expedition into these lands are an outstanding opportunity to explore this phenomenon. Can you imagine actually meeting these Mites, and interacting with them?"
She looks around to those listening, excitement on her face, clearly hoping that her explanation made sense.
--
Once Emil excuses himself to shave, Franka follows him until they have some privacy. She puts a hand on his shoulder to stop him. Concern shows on her face. "Emil, I wanted to say... You did a difficult thing today, and I hope you can come to accept that it was the right choice. Still, you've mentioned Galt and the Grey Gardeners. If that's your background, I can understand why you'd be apprehensive. Still, the Solicitor mentioned your link to House Lebeda, and I think I can see some of that in you. I won't presume to intrude on your past, or to pry. But maybe it can help you to know more about your heritage." She hesitates, trying to strike a balance in what she's about to say. "I just wanted you to know that I'm here for you, if you ever want to talk. My father was a humble man, but as he put it: 'The burden of leadership is heavy and only few must bear it, but it is the support they receive that makes the burden bearable...'"
Sera puts on a smile for Emil, happily taking Flora's reins even though her heart felt heavy for Emil and his personal dilemma. Brushing the back of her hand against Flora's cheek, Sera spoke in the calm, soothing voice she seemed to save only for her interactions with animals. "You're such a good girl, Flora. I bet all that fighting has made you thirsty. Let's get you something to drink." With that, the young Druid slowly led the horse upstream and away from the business Emil planned to attend to.
Upon her return, Sera could only stare blankly at Franka's academic explanation and the metaphor she chose to use. It wasn't a matter of not understanding the subject matter, however, instead Sera had trouble understanding the other Druid's motivation. "The curtain is there for a reason, Franka. That mess no one sees has no business even being on the stage in the first place. Nothing good comes from it, especially when when we're talking about fae. So...why peek?"
Emil nods thoughtfully, awkwardly even, at Franka's words, before going on with his business. "So, what do the rest of you think we should do next? Explore the area? Follow the tracks? Go on further back and deal with the boar?"
Franka gives Sera an incredulous look. "Are you serious? There's whole worlds to explore and learn about! If you see a hill, aren't you curious to see what's on the other side?" She spares a glance for Audsley in particular, almost sure that the argument will resonate with him. "Besides, maybe there's a good reason for the Veil, and maybe there isn't. We have no idea, and that's what makes it worth learning about." Knowing she needs support, she tries to think of something to smooth things over with Sera. "You're right that there's ugly stuff back there. The fae might be trouble, but from what I know Mites are more of a nuisance than an actual threat. I'm sure we'll be able to deal with them..."
Addressing Emil, she continues "As eager as I am to follow the trail, it's pretty cold already. The bandits did say it was a few weeks ago when their supplies went missing. Since we're here now, we could probably explore the immediate area here before we leave. It's what we set out to do anyway, mapping these lands, and if we ever have to break up another bandit camp here, we'd better learn as much as we can about the area. I'm sure the Mite trail won't degrade even further in a day more."
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"Knowledge is security. If we can get a semblance of what these 'things from beyond the veil' are and why they're encroaching on our side, we can either protect ourselves," Janna nods to Sera, "or reason with them- -maybe even befriend them," he continues, nodding to Franka. "To be fair, my gut reaction is with Sera- -especially if there's a way to keep them on their side of the curtain."
Janna pauses, trying to imagine what things this small must look like, but cannot come up with anything more concrete then a bunch of heavily armored babies. He dismisses the thought, visibly shaking his head.
"The mites do not have the same immediacy as the bandits. We should make some progress on surveying the surrounding lands, lest we be pulled in every direction," Janna offers.