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Wonky remembers the potion that they found on Kressle.
"Does anyone know what that gourd is? I spent my time testing each one of those very potent herbal liquors - too heavy for my taste, those! Nevertheless, it would probably be smart to identify that aliquot to make sure it is not more useful."
"What do you think of the lizardfolk? Is he trustworthy, or an ally of convenience? I have my concerns, but I want to know more about him, and he doesn't seem to trust me.”
"Oh, Hexa! He seems like a fine chap to me. I think he enjoys the hunt, so he gets a little bit intense, but he has an extreme amount of respect for Svetlana and Oleg - and in that order! I think perhaps that the lizard folk society might be much like the nagaji society that I have read about - matriarchal in nature. Nevertheless, we are all friends of Svetlana, as it were, and I do think that he is quite trustworthy. I was more concerned about Sams, to be sure, given his background as one of Kressle's former mercenaries, but it appears that he has truly proven his worth, and thankfully not in a pyrrhic fashion."
She quickly changes topics, not because anyone is over-hearing their conversation, but simply due to a new thing to talk about.
"The herbal liquor is potent, but I do not think that it was brewed to partner with fine food. On the other hand, THIS draught is of a magical nature, I believe!" Wonky gestures with the gourd.
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"Well done," Ahto says, admiring the repair work on the wagon. "This will certainly make our journey back faster. I suggest we hitch two horses to the wagon, with one of us as a driver and one as an archer in the seat. The rest should ride to either side and behind the wagon. Our prisoners shall be bound and riding in the back with the collected loot. All weapons and sharp implements will be stowed in the saddle bags of the riders, in case any of them get notions of escape."
Hexa nods at Ahto waving to Wonky. "Wonky, make wagon, Hexa watches." He pats his bow then. "Hexa help, ssit,
Usse bow. Watches Talkers, Tal follows."
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"Wonky, may I ask that you drive the wagon? You will know best how to handle it based on your repairs, and your petite stature will afford Hexa an easier time taking aim without accidentally hitting our driver."
"The rest of us should ride to either side of and behind the wagon. The rearguard rider will need to be the one who watches our charges the most closely, while the two flankers watch for any approaching threats from their respective sides. Does this sound like a reasonable plan? Are there any objections or amendments anyone wishes to offer?"
Ahto's tone even and not one of command. He makes it clear that he is suggesting a course of action and is open to other suggestions.
Hexa shakes his head, Ahto's plan sounded good. Clear sight to take aim was a good thing.
Before leaving, if it hadn't been done already, Hexa dismantled the traps Jolen had informed them of.
When The time comes to load then up, Hexa is clearly much nicer in his handling.
Once the load was secure he draws his Bow and gets Tal loaded up next to him, so they don't slow down the return trip.
The return trip is difficult at first, picking your way along the rough trail through the forest.
A few of you nervously ask Wonky to slow down as she excitedly drives the wagon, lest it shake apart the repairs.
The hours wear on, and the sun begins to set just as you reach the forest's edge, where the trees give way to the rolling plains.
Long shadows stretch across the land, cast by every rock and shrub.
The wagon and prisoners have slowed your pace on the return trip.
Another 12 miles lay between you and Oleg's
Will you press onward in the dark, or will you make camp at the forest's edge for now?
The last light brings a change to Hexa,
Who watches the setting sun and hails the dying light of day by tapping his claws to his forehead and bringing his hand forward palm praised until it is chest height before resuming holding his bow. "Hexa go. 'Til we reach Oleg."
He disliked the night but he didn't fear it, his eyes could pierce it for several yards. So he was confident in his ability to fight if needed.
"What in the Nine Hells is this? You sods are in for a world of hurt!"
The other bandits remained largely silent as they awoke during the trip.
As Kressle regains consciousness, however, it is clear that she does not intend to go quietly.
She unleashes a tirade of the most colorful language the River Kingdoms has to offer.
Her threats roll off your shoulders, like water off the back of a thresher goose.
Even the other bandits seem to dismiss her ravings, and they shimmy away from her in the wagon.
Hexa growls in amusement at the beaten scaleless empty bravado, he stows his bow before drawing his Handaxe. Quickly turning it before leaning his knee into Kressel hard enough to force the wind out of her before placing the axe blade against her throat. He leans in close so his serpentine voice could be strongly heard but quiet. "You threaten Oleg once, Hurt Svetlana too, yess?" He presses the blade hard enough to make her bleed, showing his willingness to harm her was equally as real as hers to hurt him. A threat he made clear wouldn't be tolerated.
When he spoke again his words carried the weight of his uncaring nature to the captured bandits. His eyes were fully dilated in the dying light and intense as he stared Kressel straight in the eye. "No Sspeak, No Move or Hexa's fangss find You." The axe remained steady at her neck. His knee remained firmly lodged in her gut as he waited for a reason to strike. His words were clearlt for all of them but his focus was on the strongest...
Aris doesn't exactly feel tired in the usual way. It's more of a drained feeling, and the elf tries not to let it bother her. She also sees Kressle's escape attempt, but doesn't react right away, letting the big man handle it instead.
Once the Kressle situation is resolved, she looks out over the plains to Oleg's. "I would prefer to be back at Oleg's sooner rather than later, but I understand if others need to sleep."
Paval's hand already shifts to his blade when Sams deals with Kressle. "I agree. Let's move on to Oleg's. We can sleep once we're there and she is taken care off. I'll sleep better knowing I won't wake up with an axe in my back."
Paval then searches for a torch within his pack and lights it.
Paval's torch flares to life, barely swaying in the faint dusk breeze. The glow casts orange-hued shadows across the wagons, horses, and all the assembled faces.
Kressle grits her teeth, cowed into silence and stillness.
Sprocket dozes on the seat next to Wonky, not even disturbed by the altercation with the bandit leader.
Distant flecks of light, likely torches on the parapet, highlight the trading post in the quickly deepening gloom.
Hexa says nothing, but listens silently to Ahto while collecting the weapons Kressel had been inching for. He packs the weapons as best he could in the saddlebags he had on the horse he was borrowing before they departed. He didn't question the misunderstanding, again scaleless were different.
On the way back he draws his Bow and keeps a steady silence so long as the prisoners did the same. Hexa squinted every time he saw the torch near his face.
After some time had passed, he looked to the rising moon before he administers a honey ration to the shackled prisoners. Starting with Kressel and proceeding with the rest, he saves a little honey and places a leaf with honey dappled on its surface as a makeshift bandage for the cut he made earlier on Kressel's neck.
He applies a similar one to Jolen's back, where he had removed the arrow. He does similar first aid for the others with injuries as well. A reward for good behavior.
Once He was done he resumed his role as wagon protector. Keeping a wary eye around and inside the wagon as the Trading post loomed in sight...
Although the rolling plains around the trading post provide easier terrain to manage than the woods, the creeping night makes for slow, cautious travel.
The trek is chorused by grumbles from the bandits, the growing songs of nightbirds, and the occasional howl of a distant wolf.
The horses grunt in exhaustion, but the ones that formerly belonged to the other bandit band offer no overt protest. They are likely used to being forced along.
You catch whispers among the bandits, but none of it is conspiring. They rue their fate - missing home and family or somberly speculating about their impending deaths.
Kressle remains silent, though her eyes never seem to rest.
The few lights of the trading post grow closer, albeit frustratingly slowly. The revelation begins to dawn on you just how wide the Greenbelt stretches and that the exploration mandated by your charter is not a matter of merely a few days.
Finally, the walls - promising rest and safety - are within striking distance.
An eager voice calls out excitedly from atop the parapet, where you see one of Garess' mercenaries waving an arm, flanked by Aurelius and one of the indentured bandits.
Seeing the walls of Oleg's Village was a welcome sight to Hexa who remained on guard until the shout from the walls. He raises his bow, signaling it had been a good hunt and gives a shrill cry as well.
Less of the Stag Mans hunters remain, less to threaten Svetlana and Oleg. Less for Hexa to hunt. Though... He watched the Aoi'Si with a side long glance. ... Hexa's hunt may be over soon... with that thought in mind he scratched Tal's head crest as she napped near him.
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"On one hand, I am very glad to see the faces of Oleg and Svetlana, not to mention our comrades Aurelius and Kalima again. On the other hand, I assume this means that my time as a horse and cart drover has now ended." Wonky sighs as the horses lumber closer to the palisade walls, revelling in the chaotic thumping and jostling of the cart as she manages to - just - keep it on the path leading up to the fort.
"What do you say, Sprocket?" the gnome takes her eyes off of the road as she questions her canine companion. "Has it been a fun outing for you?" Wonky veers the cart back onto the dusty path with an inexpert move as her eyes return to the fort.
It's not until the wagon is almost upon the post that the palisade gate groans open, the sound tears through the otherwise quiet night like a roar.
"So you've secured more 'servants' then? Lady Kalima should be pleased," Aurelius calls softly from the gate as he waves the party's caravan inside.
The indentured bandit also moans in a fearful voice just loud enough to be heard.
"Oh gods, they've kept Kressle alive. If she gets loose, we're all dead."
Hexa tapped Wonky on the shoulder lightly, speaking praise in his normal tongue. "Wonky tira algbo, Hexa lamitha nomeno zi kiarf. Twe ossalur tenamalo soon, axun?"
He dismounts once the wagon stops insides the squeaky gates he stows his bow and dismounts from the cart. "Joe-len, out. You sstay 'til Wa' Chief Ahto sspeakss." He points to each of the silent bandits and Kressel last as he helps Jolen get out of the cart. Handing the man over to the ones awaiting him from the fort.
He growls at the indentured bandit's whining, trying to silence them immediately. Lest they embolden Kressel and he would have no choice but to knock her down again.
He steps up to War Chief Ahto then and nods to the rest of the bandits and Kressel. "'Dis oness not sswore to Oath'ss."
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Ahto looks to Aurelius and the guard detail. Then turns back to the prisoners in the wagon. "You are bound, weaponless, and surrounded. Any attempt at resistance or escape will be met with lethal force. If you survive the attempt, your death will not be quick, nor without pain. Am I understood?
He gives the prisoners a penetrating gaze, making it clear that he is not to be tested on this matter.
"Hexa, please bring Jolan down from the wagon."
Once Jolan has been brought from the wagon and stands before the assembly, Ahto says. "Your comrade, Jolan, has taken an oath renouncing his lawlessness and bonding himself to a period of indentured servitude to make restitution for his crimes. Do any of the rest of you wish to join him? Which of you will return to the life of the civilized? Speak now!
"You are a craven, cowardly traitor, Jolan!" Kressle shouts into the night, leaning back against a corner of the wagon. "We've looked out for each other in these wilds without help from anyone else, and now you side with these Rostland dogs who would see us all swing from a rope?"
One of the other captured bandits finds courage in Kressle's tirade.
"We're all going to die, Jolan," he says, his speech slurred by a swollen tongue and dislocated jaw. ”You’re just going to die on your knees, licking boots before you get the sword.”
He stumbles to his feet, his bound hands making it difficult for him to rise.
”Here’s my oath,” he says, hawking a glob of dried blood and spittle onto the gravelly ground of the trading post. ”I, Nashe, son of Moseley, refuse to surrender, and I only swear that these lands will eat you alive.”
Not even a moment passes before the last captured bandit scrambles forward on hands and knees, almost tumbling out of the wagon.
”These two are mad,” he protests. ”I am with them no longer. I surrender. I swear my loyalty to you. I am Bron, son of Morn the Quiet, and I renounce banditry and will serve in exchange for my life.”
With a hissing curse, Kressle lunges forth. She wraps her manacled hands around Bron’s throat and begins throttling him with the chains.
Kressle freezes in place, gritting her teeth and fuming to again find herself held back by divine force.
Bron slides his head from between her hands and rolls out of the wagon, flopping onto the gravel.
He kicks and wriggles his way along, seeking protection at the foot of the inquisitor.
"Come and get me," she taunts the party and her former comrades. "My pride and my strength will not die quietly, so neither will I."
Hexa watched her with unblinking eyes. Kressel was mad to the scaleless but to him he saw a fire. He leans up onto the cart, making it rock under his weight as he grabbed her chains and grappled her. Ahto's command gave him an opportunity that brought a vicious toothy smile to his reptilian muzzle.
He was a mountain of scales towering over her. Made up of claws, teeth and lean muscle which he used all of it in his attempt to overpower Kressel and pin her down.
Tal stamped her feet, seemingly confused on what to do...
Paval just sighs at the whole conversation and the following altercation, "You should have listened to me and strung her up in the woods. Now we have to string her up and the other idiot as well."
He then moves to Bron and extends his hand to help him up, "Be glad to know that you are the sensible one."
The wagon rocks and groans as Hexa presses Kressle against the wooden bed.
A low cracking sound signals that the improvised repairs made to the wheel are buckling against the impact.
The bandit leader struggles against her scaly foe, but with her hands bound and torso pinned against the wagon, she can only thrash feebly.
"Between this strumpet with a death wish and her drunken, masked boss, I feel no guilt abandoning them," Bron says to Paval - and to reassure himself.
Hexa kept Kressle pinned down as he spoke, using her clothing and the chains against her. Hexa introduced himself but hesitated. "Hexa, Lasst of ten eggss. He grunts as Kressle struggles and he tries to pull her as the cart groans beneath them. Which he finds more exciting as she struggles, such strength! Old habits die hard...
"Ya st'ong, but Sstupid." He continues struggling with her worsening his broken common. "Fight ta Live. No die like t'is."
Kressle twists around in Hexa's grasp.
She plants her foot down on the lizardman's "upper knee" and uses his leg as leverage to kick off from his clutches.
Stumbling before securing her footing, Kressle casts an eye towards the trading post gate, but rather than making an escape, she stands her ground.
"I'll fight to live," she announces. "How about a trial by combat? Give me a hatchet and fight me, lizard, one-on-one!"
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"You are condemned to die for your crimes. Nothing you say or do will prevent that. If you submit to your fate now, you will be granted a clean death - one stroke of my sword will painlessly remove your head from your shoulders. If you continue to resist, fight, or run, I will prolong your death. It will not even be a proper hanging. You will suffer."
Ahto gives her a penetrating gaze that leaves no doubt that he means it.
"The same applies to you," he says, turning his eyes toward the bandit called Nashe. "A quick clean death, or an agonizing one."
He pauses a moment, the adds. "Time for you both to choose."
Paval sighs, "I hope this is what you wanted Ahto."
Paval then walks around Kressle, sword in hand. He takes position so the bandit needs to pass within his reach if she wants to make a run for it.
Nashe, without hesitation, kneels down.
With a scowl, he growls, "Just make it quick."
Kressle grits and bares her teeth like a cornered animal.
Her eyes dart like a hare and her muscles tense up.
For a moment, it seems she could do anything - dash for the gate, bull rush Ahto, or reach to throttle Paval behind her.
Finally, after a long instant, she clenches her eyes shut and also drops to her knees.
She is surprisingly, deathly quiet and calm now.
Posture. Muscle constriction. Breathing rate - Their body language makes it clear that this is no ruse.
They are both resigned to their fate.
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"Abadar's Justice is served in this world. May the Gray Lady grant your soul the justice it deserves," Ahto intones as sweeps his blade quickly down, connecting with the back of Kressle's neck.
x2 = 24 points.
Ahto then moves to stand beside Nashe.
"Abadar's Justice is served in this world. May the Gray Lady grant your soul the justice it deserves."
Again he sweeps the massive blade down.
x2 = 28 points.
When he sees the truth of it, her choice brings disappointment to his eyes. He kneels before her. "Eyess open Kressle. Hexa sstay. Face dis." He watched her die with the stroke of Ahto's sword and blinked reflexively at the spray of her blood on his scaled face. Though it bloodied his armor he was silent, respectful at her passing despite his misgivings for the ordeal.
This was sad to him, a choosing of a weak death. Had he known this would come he'd had killed them while they slept, a skill he had honed. Granting a quick end while one's spirit wandered the dark before the light warmed their scales. Now, he had brought blood into the village.
He kneeled there, his scales slowly losing their color as he makes his decision. He clicks his tongue to Tal, calling her to heel and gathers up the fallen Kressle. He takes the nice bedroll he had and places her head back on her torn neck before binding her inside it. "Mazludeh, kii tir wer versvesh loreat lae fueryoni? Nomeno... shilta ti qe wer idol. ui coi?" He looks at the other body and pulls out his worn bedroll, wrapping his body more roughly. Enough to stop the bleeding all over the place for now.
If Svetlana or Oleg is present His scales seem to lose all color now, a dull grey as facing either of them was the worst possible thing at that moment. Not even the presence of the Aoi'Si could distract him from this dirtying of their home. He strains to speak more clearly when they're around. "Hexa fix dis." He was desperate, bobbing his head to the blood and bodies in their village. "Not be, when light comes. You see." With that he picks up Kressle's body and moves it out of the gate and sets her down in the grass before coming back to retrieve the next body. Giving no explanation for his behavior if asked.
Hexa secures the dead man to Tal and carries Kressel with her a fair distance before burning them, hopefully somewhere far from the fort. Lest the smoke reach his once good hosts.
Kressle remains largely silent and motionless up to the end.
As the sword is raised, you can see barely perceptible tremors in her chest and shoulders, betraying the fear she suppresses or perhaps even a sob that she has choked back for years.
Once her head tumbles to the ground, she is silent and motionless for good.
The execution evokes a wince from many of the assembled mercenaries and former bandits.
Bron and Jolan straighten their posture and seem to breathe easier now that the frightening Kressle is no more.
Even with his back turned, Nashe shudders when he hears the blade make contact with a sickeningly wet sound, but he quickly straightens himself out.
”Don’t keep me waiting.” Unsure whether to face his end with humor or defiance, Nashe’s words instead become a tremulous mess, hinting at the underlying fear.
He keeps his eyes sealed tightly as Ahto approaches and readies his great blade.
However, in the final moment, his eyes bolt open.
The first hints of a cry to ”Wait!” escapes his mouth, but it comes too late.
The deeds are done, and the punishment for “unrepentant banditry,” as laid out in the party’s charter, has been carried out.
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Ahto cleans the blood from his blade, then moves to stand over the bodies of Kressle and Nashe. He reaches for the iron key of Abadar around his neck, and intones a prayer.
"Be it Abadar's will that the sins you committed in life, the same sins that condemned you to death, be consumed in the fires of justice. May that same fire give me strength, and light my way through the darkness of anarchy and chaos."
As he speaks, a small white flame appears; hovering in the air mere inches before his face. An inky black, almost liquid smoke rises from the mouths of the corpses and slithers upwards, drawn as if through a hollow reed towards the flame.
As the smoke is consumed, the candle-like flame becomes a torch-sized ball of fire. Ahto reaches out with his free hand and grasps the fire, cradling it in his hand. He brings it to his mouth, and swallows it; the licking flames flowing into his mouth as if from a drinking horn.
The light suffuses his skin and his wounds begin to close.
When the light fades Ahto looks up and sees Hexa beginning to move the corpses out of the Trading Post. Without another word, he sheathes his blade, and assists him in picking up the bodies.
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Wonky disappears from the scene with Sprocket at Kressle’s call for ‘trial by combat’.
I might not know him all that well, but I severely doubt that Ahto will offer her a warrior death. I cannot stand to see how it will play out, but I am sure it will end with the death of Kressle.
”You have so many burrs in your fur, Sprocket!” the gnome remarks to no one, obsessively grooming her dog as a means of blocking out her thoughts and the reverberations from outside the palisade walls.