Talia nods, motioning for the others to come closer. "Sounds good to me. A big cat like that and a crazy guy, shouldn't be too difficult to find where he lives. Just because he's evil, doesn't mean he's acting on it. And I'm no ethicist, but I don't think we can just kill someone because they are evil-natured. They have to commit a crime, first, right?"
"Dregan, can we follow their tracks back to his home?"
"Of course." Dregan says.
The old man's tracks prove tough to follow, but Dregan manages to lead you to an old oak tree where the trail ends. The tree is hollow, and the track dips down to disappear into the bowl dug out at the base. Overhead, the clouds rumble, and lightning flickers.
Talia kneels and peers into the tree. Grabbing a nearby rock, she utters a quick incantation, bringing forth a glow of light. Tossing the light down the bowl, the Viscountess shrugs and goes in.
"I've got a bad feeling about this," Naralesh mutters. He casts a spell to sense any magical auras lingering about before them - a druid might have any manner of magical protections on his dwelling.
Upset by the impending return of rain, Gavriil just follows along with the others. He smirks at Naralesh and says, "You really should start studying ways to control the weather with your powers. It would make our lives considerably easier!"
He goes to say something to Talia about going in first after a lunatic, but she disappears before he can, so instead he follows quickly on her heels, hoping that it doesn't end badly, but being ready in case it does.
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The group follows Talia, working down the narrow trail that leads to the oak hollow, when a flash of fur bursts from the bushes to Edric's left! Cat pounces on the paladin, claws and fangs slashing and biting.
No sooner does everyone turn to look at Cat's sudden attack, when a muffled voice sounds in Talia's ear. Fetid breath is hot on her neck as the old man whispers; "Now die, pretty. The voices say so."
But the old man's rusty blade turns on Talia's script draft notes!
"Ack!" Talia's voice comes forth unbidden and merely a squawk, as if she's been gravely injured, and in a way she was: many nights - no weeks - of work were pierced by the barmy old man's blade. One shocked thought passes through Talia's mind as she turns and draws Worgslayer:
The pen and paper truly is mightier than the sword!
With a step and a flick of the wrist, Talia's familiar dueling style is adopted, and then with a jab, the Viscountess attempts to separate the druid from his blade...
While the cat looked nasty Edric is capable of surviving for a while Talia on the other hand...
Dregan quickly puts an arrow to string and fires at the crazy old man.
[ooc]rapid shot, point blank, deadly shot, ranger's focus
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Gavriil sees the madman stab at Talia and charges forward, his rapier up. As he closes in, he stabs his rapier at the man, hoping to put him down quickly, and says, "You really need to stop going in first!"
Naralesh took nary a moment to think as the ambush fell upon the group. He stepped back, out of the cat's reach, and cast a spell. Surprise ruled his emotions, but discipline ruled his magic. More an accident than by design, he called to the elements with far greater force than ever before - and the elements answered.
His words rumbled through the earth like a tremor, and not one but three elementals burst forth from the dirt like enraged boulders. The rocky form of GRVMTAR was present, and two more besides - a black obsidian elemental, and one comprised of tightly compacted gravel. Each wasted no time, bringing mighty fists to bear on the cat and crazed druid.
Dregan's arrows pepper the old man, and he drops to his kness as Gavriil runs him through. He looks up and begins cackling madly as the elemental lands two solid blows to his head, killing him.
Cat lets out a yowl of sheer agony at the old man's death, cut off by the fists of another elemental. Then he turns tail and darts into the woods, battered and bruised.
Looking down at the dead man, Talia sheaths Worgslayer and frowns. Something about the man's appearance...
"Hey, he kind of looks like, Bokken the potion maker, doesn't he?"
Gavriil looks at the dead madman for a second and nods along with Talia, "He does have an uncanny resemblance to the man. Maybe a brother or other relative?"
He looks over the man, looking for anything that might help them or explain why he attacked them and says to the others, "Is it just me or are we running into weirder and weirder people out here? Almost makes a man not want to leave the comfort of his own bed!
"That Cat will be a danger we better put up a public notice when we get back. It sort make sense that we encounter weirder people the further we go, anyone sane and incapable of protecting themselves wouldn't go this far from the protections of civilization. Strangely making it safer to set up as a child eating witch or crazy cat lover."
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Naralesh marvels at his creations. The cat fled and the man slain, the elementals approach him placidly. "KVVMGKHT," one of them says, a fissure on what approximates its face opening like a weirdly sideways mouth. "NRLSK?" it hisses.
The wizard replies in the same grinding language, his words sounding like rocks scraping together. They talk for several seconds before Naralesh makes a smooth gesture with his hand, and all three elementals sink back into the earth. Nora leaps up into his arms as the outsiders vanish, a bemused expression on the wizard's face.
"I am amazed I was able to conjure so many of them at once," he murmurs, stroking the fox's white fur. "It seems practical experience is worth far more than purely academic study. I could never have done this back in the academy."
The elemental's fists crush Cat's hind quarters as it turns to run. The beast manages to crawl next to the body of the old hermit before it dies.
The hermit's gear does seem to radiate magic.
The hollow oak tree contains next to nothing of value: a few pieces of crude wooden furniture, a simple wooden bowl and spoon, and a pile of dried leaves for a bed. The mad hermit keeps his few treasures in a chest sitting in a hole under his bed of leaves.
Gavriil gathers the items up and places them on the bed for the others to look over. He picks up the locket and turns to the others, "We should probably take this to Bokken. If he was related, then he may want this."
He nods to Naralesh and says, "We all seem to be leanring new things out here. I'm glad that your friends are on our side."
"Maybe we should rest here for a while. I know it's not great with the dead being around and all, but with the storm moving in this might be the only shelter we can find and I would rather not get caught in the rain again if we can help it. I think I've been soaked enough in these lands."
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The thought of sleeping in a dead man's tree fills Talia with dread. The thought of telling Bokken of his - brother? Son? - even moreso.
Paler than usual, the Viscountess nods her head in agreement and looks morosely towards the night's resting spot.
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Gavriil takes his old spare cloak out of his bag and wraps the madman in it as a makeshift burial shroud. As Dregan and Edric tend to the horses, he drags the madman and his cat out of the hollow and away from where they'd be staying. If it where he in the same situation he would want the body too and not just the locket.
He returns to the room to find Talia looking despondent. He removes his cloak and drapes it around her shoulders and pulls his bottle of Oldlaw whiskey out and a few pewter cups. He silently pours two cups and hands one to Talia. He knocks back his own tumbler and says, "It's never easy to take a life, but he left us no choice. He attacked the viscountess for no reason. Think what he would do to anyone from our fledgling kingdom. We did the right thing here. I know it's no comfort, but that's what the whiskey and the company of friends is for."
Dregan gets to work settling the horses and attaching the tent to a sturdy tree
"You are right we had little choice. Separately we should head back as soon as the storm has past. I have no idea of Bokken's faith but we should try to get the body to him and it'll start smelling..."
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The storm moves in quickly, so quickly that Gavriil and whomever is helping him get soaked by the sudden squall before they can take cover in the hollow of the old oak. The storm lasts all night, and the lightning is more than impressive. In fact, it's difficult to get any sleep with the thunder and lightning crashing all about you.
The next morning, the damage wrought by the storm becomes apparent. Many trees are down by the high winds. Pools of standing water are all about the forest floor. The bodies of the old man and Cat are in one such pool, several inches deep.
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Gavriil spends the evening cursing the gods some more in his head as he sits as close to the fire as possible trying to get dry. Once he is dry again and warmed from the whiskey, he breaks out his lute and plays a soft song compared to the rancorous tavern songs he normally played, allows the others to just enjoy the music, talk quietly among themselves, and drink the whiskey he provides. He often interrupts his playing to drink more and to smile and joke with his compatriots in an attempt to lighten their moods.
Once the evening dies down and the others go to sleep, Gavriil stays up, unable to sleep with the crash of thunder and lightning and the storm clouds raging in his own head. That madman, though he attacked them, still stalked his mind. That was only the second man he has ever killed and possibly a brother to a man they knew. His mind wanders to thoughts of his own younger brother and though the snot-nosed brat was annoying at times, he was still family. Gavriil can't fathom a world were his younger wasn't alive, let alone slain by a group of adventurers.
He suddenly sits up from his "sleeping" spot and rummages through his bag until he finds his inkwell, quill, and several pages of parchment that he was only supposed to write out official documents on. While not technically official, it was his job to reach out to people on behalf of his new home. He quickly writes out a letter to his mother by the light of the dying coals pleading to her to gather his younger half-brother and to leave the awful man she had married out of necessity. He explained that he could take care of them in Concord and that they would never want for anything ever again.
Satisfied with the letter, he rolls it up and places it back in his bag before laying back down to sleep. With his mind at ease, he slowly drifts to sleep to the sound of the rain.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------- -
The next morning
Gavriil awakes last and quickly complains about his sore back from sleeping on the ground. Seeing the others awake and yawns and says, "Back to the city then? Then perhaps up to Bokken with the body? After that we could continue on with our exploration down here."
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Last night
Talia nods, looking down into the pewter cup, swirling it twice before sipping. She much preferred vodka, but after today, the whiskey would certainly do. "Agreed, Gavriil. There was no choice in the matter really. Whatever reason that man had, it was squandered by years out here. He was a dangerous to our peoples as the wolf in the Kellid's skin."
Swirling the whiskey again, Talia takes a sip and flips her cloakhood up, before leaning back against the tree and closing her eyes.
This morning
Untying Apple from the nearby tree, she gives the horse a quick pat and saddles up. "Yes. The body should be interred by whatever custom Bokken prefers, as soon as possible, before the rot sets in. Then we go home for a stretch before heading back towards the elven keep."
Naralesh prepares a prestidigitation spell in the morning, helping to dry out everyone's clothes (and keep the body from smelling while they travel). "I'm eager to learn more about the elvish keep. I wasn't aware there were any elven settlements in this area."
Dream ties the body over the back of the pack horse like it were a deer carcass."We can check them out later, elves are unlikely to change much in next few months but this body will. Even riding hard we will be pushing it to get to Bokken in two days, you would have magic or herb lore that would preserve the body or speed the horse would you?"
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The storms continue to threaten for the two days it takes to get to Bokken's hut. The hut itself is much like you remember it, a thin wisp of smoke coming from a hole in center of the domed roof. The thick animal skin covering the door opening hangs heavy in the humid air.
Bokken himself sqats over a small cauldron in front of the hut, sprinkling ingredients with one hand and stirring with another. He looks up to see you approaching.
"So-so. Well well. What brings you back? Finally need old Bokken to brew you something? A healing elixir? A love potion?" He casts a meaningful look at Talia and Gavriil.
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Talia cannot look the hermit in the eye, focusing her gaze upon the man's cauldron. The humidity was bad enough - the unpleasant task in front of them even worse.
This is the thing that makes ruling hard. Not the tough decision, not the mistakes. But explaining them. Get on with it, Viscountess.
Clearing her throat, Talia lifts her eyes to Bokken's. The words come softly at first. "I'm afraid not, Bokken..."
Grimacing the Viscountess looks down briefly and wills herself back to the task, wills her voice to be stronger. Gesturing towards the blanket-covered corpse, Talia continues.
"We came upon - I think - your brother, two days south of here. He attacked us. I'm sorry. We defended ourselves, and he fell. We'd like, if you'd have us, to assist you with the burial."
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Gavriil gives a half-hearted smile to Bokken when the old half-crazed potion maker offered to make them a potion and gave them a look. Oh, if you only knew, old man, he thinks while slowly shaking his head "no".
He opens his mouth to speak but the words catch on his tongue. For a man so quick with words so often, it's a lesson to be learned. Or not, since learning is usually the last thing Gavriil likes to do, even from his own mistakes and experiences.
Luckily, Talia intercedes and speaks for all of them. Gavriil guesses that's what made her viscountess, the ability to give voice even when words from others fail. At her gesture towards the body, Gavriil slides off his horse and pulls the body down off his horse into his arms. He carries the body over to Bokken and gently lays it on the ground, fixing the locket that was fashioned around the body's neck so that it rested on the body's chest for inspection by Bokken.
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Bokken gets to his feet and walks slowly over to the blanket-shrouded corpse. He spends a long moment looking down on the old hermit. As you look, the similarities between them are unmistakable. Suddenly, Bokken reaches down and snatches the locket from the body. Then, to your ultimate surprise, he spits on the forehead of the old hermit and kicks him in the face!
Bokken stands there breathing heavily, then turns to face your shocked countenances. He holds up his right hand for you to see. The pinky finger is missing.
"Bastard cut that offa me th' last time he hit my mother, Desna rest her soul." Bokken growls. "But he took off southwards right after to live in some damned hole in a tree. Afraid to face the guards, the coward."
He turns and kicks the hermit in the face again. Staring down at the body he whispers. "When my parents died, I came here to be alone. I thought for a moment about hunting him down, getting revenge, but the Greenbelt...well, you know how dangerous it was back then." From behind him, you can see Bokken open the locket and look at the picture.
He turns back to face you, tears in his eyes. "I guess it all worked out in the end." He clutches the locket to his chest. "I owe you all. Anything you need, come and see me." Then he slowly walks back to his hut and disappears inside, the small boling cauldron all but forgotten.
Gavriil blinks and backs away a step as Bokken spits and kicks at the corpse. He watches on with a confused look plastered on his face as the hermit recounts what exactly his brother had done. As the potion-maker violently kicks the corpse repeatedly and tells them the story, Gavriil's look of confusion drops from his face into a blank expression, hiding the anger welling up inside him. Poor Bokken, who was a few cards short of a full deck of cards himself, finally has a semblance of peace.
As the potion-maker heads back inside, Gavriil walks back to his horse and mounts up, fingering the letter in his pocket. He turns to the others and asks, "To Oleg's while we're up here? I could really use a drink and my bottle's running low."
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"It's always good to see the Levetons," Naralesh remarked. "We should stop by." It'd been a while since the wizard had seen the couple, and he'd grown fond of the trading post during his time there. He also decided he might place some orders with Oleg for his magical research while he was there. Arcane scrolls and lore were hard to come by down in the frontier, and Oleg's trading partners up north had been helpful to him in the past.
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30 - 31 Desnus 4708
You arrive at Oleg's late in the day, emotions in turmoil from your experience at Bokken. A wise man once said that the Stolen Lands were called that because of what they stole from you: friends, family, innocence. Another hard lesson on that wisdom was learned today.
You approach from the east, and as you crest the rise, the horns sound. 3 quick, short blasts - the signal the Council has arrived. The guards are still alert here, even with Kesten to the south in Concord.
As it's still day, the gates remain open. Several guardsmen see to your horses, while you are greeted warmly by Oleg and Svetlana.
"Well hello, Lords!" Oleg rumbles, "we weren't expecting you, but..." He is quickly cut off by Svetlana, who elbows him in the ribs. She curtsys, and says with a smile "Greetings and welcome, lords. Some things do not change, as you can see. What my husband means is: come in! We will ready supper immediately!"
Oleg moves off grumbling something about 'how hard it would to send word beforehand', but Svetlana sweeps you into the warmth of the trading post common room. Little has changed. The small confines, the warm fire, the smell of stew...
There are a couple of traders present in the common room, but they quickly make a place for you to sit.
A wise man once said that the Stolen Lands were called that because of what they stole from you: friends, family, innocence. Another hard lesson on that wisdom was learned today.
Gavriil smiles warmly at the Levetons and says with a little mirth in his voice, "Always a pleasure, Oleg!"
He steps into the the trading post he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath of the smell wafting from the cooking pot. He smiles at Svetlana and says, "As always, Svetlana, the food smells divine! I'd like to purchase a bottle of vodka for my friends if you have one to spare and go ahead and get a round for your other guests on me as well."
He finds a spot to sit down and pulls out his lute. He strums it a few times, tuning it, before plunging into his song for everyone to enjoy, "There is a house in New Stetven, they call 'The Dragon's Run'! And it's been the ruin of many a poor boy! And gods I know I'm one!"