Ragnar watches as the bandit 'Happs' runs, runs, and ultimately is felled by the masterful shot of Subotai.
He turns to the hooded figure and tilts his helmet back.
"Dog? I don't see any dogs. Do you mean these curs ?" His boot strikes the lifeless and sticky corpse of one of the bandits. "I'm afraid, we've put them all down."
"Brother Norri, what does that one have to say? Ready for justice?" He gestures at the ugly woman with the point of his axe.
"And for the love of the gods, can someone bring me a drink! I feel I've been fighting for a millenia!"
Inscrutable thoughts cross the mind of the priest. Hmmm...this golden haired warrior is going to be trouble isn't he?
A wet chuckle comes from the hood's opening. "You might have misunderstood his form. To your eyes he looks like a boy. A wretch of a human. He's mine, so I will take him and we will be on our way. I have a long journey ahead, and seeing as our guides have chosen to 'abandon' us, we can brook no delay."
Norri sees the small form crumpled on the ground.
Nodding to Ragnar, "Boy, I think he means him ."
"Yours? Oh you may not have heard. This is to be my kingdom. And in my kingdom, you own no man. No matter how much of a wretch of a human he may be. Brother Norri, help him up."
The pounding of blood in the ears befuddles the concentration. That Redig is talking about Ali, wanting the youth specifically drives a chill down the spine. 'Without, the pacifying influence o' t' bandits...' he shivers at the fate to befall him.
Pushing further against the heavy dark wood of the table Ali shrinks back. As if by hiding he will be forgotten. The edge of a oak support marking the fetid armour that hangs from the emaciated man.
At the touch of the dwarf, the hooded Ali recoils and lets out a soft whimper; "Woof?" But he lefts himself be retrieved from under the table, knowing the punishment for disobedience.
Through it all he listens to the conversation. 'A King? T' stolen lands ain't got no King?' But through the life-link he can feel the shinning essence of the Ulfen man.
Standing next to the table he can feel the eyes of the cloaked figure upon him, piercing his very soul.
Subotai cheers!
"Did you see that shot! Haha! Subotai! Thief and Archer !"
"What're we going to do with those ones?"
Norri pulls his hand back for a moment.
He just... Woofed?
Cautiously he reaches down and removes the hood.
"What's your name son?"
Dark tangled hair, escaping from the greasy pony-tail, covers his muddy face. Emaciated cheek-bones jut out prominently give the youth a delicate cast.
Opening thickly lashed eyes, he stares sightlessly back at the dwarf. Pale white eyes look out. There seems to be a milky film covering the iris; under you can see the palest blue as a Thrush's egg
"Ali!" he squeaks his voice the high pitch of an adolescent; the youth repeats in a deeper voice obviously put on with some self-conciousness.
A thick leather tabard covers most of his body only bare bony arms and legs sticking out, a relic of an ancient war it hasn't kept well. Moldy patches spot over the rotten leather, though its thickness hopefully should protect the occupant who seems unused to the heavy garment you judge from his movements.
Norri nods.
"Ali? Ali. I'm Brother Norri. That young man over there is Ragnar. Now lets go inside and get you some food. What do you say?"
"Err... " Ali can still feel the cloaked figure on the edge of his senses. Then his stomach rumbles loudly and beneath the grimes theres a flush to his cheeks.
The hooded figure leans forward over his mule slightly.
"Oh, I never said he was my slave, but he belongs to me nonetheless for other reasons. I assure you, you do not want to cross the Garden, young man. King or not, you will learn our reach is long indeed."
He pulls the reins so the mule comes around to face Ragnar.
Despite not being able to see, he can feel it's wrongness. The strange alien-essense that screams out to the depths of the youth's soul.
Whilst Redig's words freeze him to the core, he takes a step barking his shin against the bench. Without a sound, the gangly youth flees towards the larger building. Somehow avoiding the heavy wooden seats.
"The Garden? Ah yes, I would hate to be poked by your thorns and terrifying...ummm... Daffodils! Hahaha."
"Subotai! Find Oleg and see where we can find a temporary cell for the woman and this Gardener. Norri, what do you recommend for justice? Sending for the Watch in town?"
"I'm sure we'll find something!"
Subotai runs off to find Oleg.
Ciri snaps her useless longbow over her knee, throws it to the ground, and stomps on it. "I told you what would happen if you failed me again!"
While the others chat, she casually hustles over to where Happs fell to see if he's still alive. Perhaps she can coup de grace somebody.
The hooded figure on the mule laughs. It is a wet and disturbing sound.
"Well then, warrior. If you will not return my pet and allow me to leave, then I am sorry to say, I will have to resist."
At these words, one of the dying bandits suddenly lurches up into a sitting position. Everyone in close proximity to him can clearly see that he dead...yet he begins to jerkily stand up. A closer view of him shows that strange plant and fungal growths have begun sprouting from cracks in his skin and there is a large lichen protruding from his mouth. A small speckled mushroom literally bursts from the top of the man's skull with a crunching sound as he stands.
At the sound, the other apparently dead bandits begins to stir, sickly looking vines protruding from his noise and ears. They seem to wind down and around his limbs moving the body almost like a puppet. Both of them seem to loosely clutch their weapons as they prepare to assault Ragnar and Norri.
The ugly female bandit gives a stifled cry, and one can see that small mushroom with protrusions similar to limbs forces its way into her mouth. Clutching at her mouth and throat, the woman thrashes as she chokes the last of her life out and stops moving after a couple more feeble twitches.
On the other side of the stable, Ciri witnesses Happs Bydon's crumpled body suddenly jerk and twitch as a profusion of hideous and oily looking flowers spring from his flesh. An odd moaning comes from his throat even as he goes to stand.
The hooded figure pulls a shard of what seems to be black glass, a divine symbol, and raises it high. Images of madness and chaos swirl within, and mockingly the robed one says, "And so, 'King Nothing', where is your crown? Come and take it from me."