There is a few rumbles of agreement or disagreement at her order to wait for negotiation. It certainly isn't unheard of (most spates like this do get talked down) but it does rob the attackers of the critical element of surprise. The right thing wasn't always the smart thing, but the stakes were fairly small here. No one standing on the dark, drifting barge though that any group of random bandits really posed a real challenge to a fully armed and prepared mercenary company.
Rudabeh just finishes her prayer as the barge ghosts next to the still and silent merchant ship. It is smaller then the barge, but otherwise similar. A flat bottom boat built for low water and cargo, not speed or fighting. The night is dark but Rudabeh's eyes can see figures clustered over the deck ahead, bunching into a few groups. No one seems to be looking their way. Had they really snuck up on the bandits?
At the last moment Ostend whistles an order, the barge ever so lightly thumps against the merchant vessel and gangplanks thud onto the other deck. Then, just as Rudabeh moves forward the scene flares into noon brilliance, bright enough to force curses from a dozen throats. Squinting int he harsh light Rudabeh glances back and spots Aurelia standing with arms outstretched, wreathed in bright daylight as if the Gods had made a robe of the sun. She is smiling broadly, clearly enjoying the sudden change in ambiance. Beside her Ractus looks a little surprised at the sheer intensity but shrugs.
Looking back at the merchant vessel, Rudabeh can plainly make out every detail now.
At one end, near the stern (and the gangplanks) is the gathered crew of the merchant vessel, around ten or so. Hard bitten river pilots and sailors, dressed in the usual work leathers and boots. Arms crossed and hats pushed low, they look more annoyed then terrified. Rudabeh guesses this is probably not their first bandit hold-up. Still, despite the outward bravado, Rudabeh knew very well that such a robbery could destroy an entire life of work. It might be a common price, but it could be a high one. Among the tanned and lined rivermen, Rudabeh also spots a taller youth who is dressed in landsman style and is clearly unsure of himself on deck. Despite this though, the others look to him for his reaction tot he sudden glaring light and arrival of Rudabeh's company. The patron perhaps?
No time for that now, as Rudabeh's white eyes shift to the bandits.
And bandits they are, in the classic sense. Dressed in the usual assortment of cast-offs, relics and mis-matched uniforms, most are armed with spears or clubs but a few wear swords. They are spread out, with a few watching the prisoners while others rifle through the crates and boxes on deck. While mostly human, Rudabeh sees the obvious leader is a half-orc. To the paladin's dismay she sees he is wearing an old Pitax uniform, confirming her fears that many of Irovetti's former bully boys have turned to banditry to make ends meet.
All eyes, merchant and bandit alike, turn to face Rudabeh however. her armor glitters like polished diamonds in the blazing light, cascading with literal rainbows in a few places. In her hand, her greatsword flares to life and the blade's incandescence is not dimmed by Aurelia's brilliance but instead enhanced, shining like a beacon.
For a moment, everyone is stunned into silence.
Rudabeh, standing still on the barge, can hear nothing except the lap of the water against the hull of the ship. It was odd for her to be sneaking up on anything, but Ostend's crew did a fine job of perfectly aligning the vessel to ghost into position.
She actually flinches at the glaringly bright light that expoded into existence, and has to loo back at Aurelia with a shocked expression. The sorcerer had a particular niche of magic that she would have to note for the future. Squinting but now able to fully catch the scene, she quickly asses the crew, some sort of young captain or patron quietly accepting their shakedown.
The bandits were of no surprise- the revolution had displaced many, and it seemed these old bullies had turned to the RIver Kingdom's favorite past time to feed their families. As the bandits lift hands to their faces to shield their eyes from Aurelia's searing light, Rudabeh raises her sword in two hands in front of her, silently calling upon a psychopomp of her goddess to bless the blade. Flames burst from the edges of her sword, wreathing The Sixth Peak in a steady halo of red fire.
Calmly, Rudabeh takes a steps forward and walks onto the gangplank, rising in height above all others. "I am Rudabeh of Outsea, Paladin of Alseta." She announces into the silence, her heavy voice carrying far down the cool air above the river. "I hereby represent this vessel and aim to defend it." The undine continues, shifting the grip on her sword to rest it over her left shoulder- the flames dance and flicker against her armor, but the metal does not scorch and she shows no reaction to the heat others feel radiating off the blade.
"Now, do you still wish to exercise the River Freedom You Have What You Hold against this vessel and continue ransacking its hold? Or perhaps you'd rather consider engaging in a discussion with me about what your next actions will be instead?" Rudabeh's knees flex slightly, and her finger shift on her greatsword, tightly gripping the foot long hilt below the guard to above the pommel. Anyone that had ever been in a fight could tell she was ready to sprint across the gangplank and onto the adjoining vessel and into their midst in a moment's notice.
While Rudabeh keeps her voice measured and mild, a few of the bandits flinch back as if insulted (or struck). Clearly the sight of a full plate paladin made think re-think the morality, or at least the wisdom of banditry. One or two even drop their weapons by instinct, the clatter of steel on wood very loud int he sudden silence. Black Thom, the dwarf just behind Rudabeh laughs harshly at this but Litta merely grips her bow tightly. A quick glance at their compatriots and the disarmed bandits quickly pick up their weapons again, obviously abashed.
'You do know how to make an entrance' Teken says approvingly. Rudabeh pays the ifrit no mind at the moment however, focusing on the bandit chief. She knew, from long experience, that the feeling of the leader would tell her if she was in for a fight or a talk.
The half-orcs dark, tanned face is hard to read but the burly man is certainly not cowed. Worried yes, and one hand seems to finger an unseen item in a greasy pocket in anxiety, but not scared. Rudabeh narrows her eyes, taking in his hard eyes, callused hands and wide stance. No, this was not a man scared easily. A heavy notched sword rests in his grip, looking well used.
His own eyes search Rudabeh in return, then sweep over the assembled mercenaries. They linger on a few and then he spots Ractus saying, "Ractus? Old Ractus Redfist? What are you doing with a woman like this? Saving bandits? Hardly your old line of work."
Ractus shrugs, a painful looking gesture from the crippled man. The elf's voice is clear and strong though when he shouts back over the water, "Put the blade down, Skard. The paladin means business."
Skard considers this and then says, evenly, 'Well, so do I."
He turns back to Rudabeh and says, "So, are we under arrest or something? You speaking for the new King, whoever he is?" Rudabeh notes a few bandits perk up, obviously eager for news.
Rudabeh's steely eye stays focused on the leader despite all the distractions, though there is a part of her that finds amusement in the green bandits dropping their weapons out of fright.
Never mind the half-orc's scarred skin or nonplussed expression... something bothers her about the way the bandit leader keeps his hand in one pocket. Tekken. She says with the clipped speed of command. The half-orc has something in his pocket. A trinket or potion probably. Please watch his hand and tell me if he removes anything. She did not want to be surprised by a sudden magical item or anything else she could not account for.
The paladin relaxes slightly as the half-orc begins to speak, and with this she knows she has already won a significant victory. Beginning a discussion was often the hardest part, after all. Ractus Redfist? Cross through her own thoughts at Skard's words. I will have to ask Finn about that name when I see her next.
Rudabeh carefully considers the question aimed at her, and the few bandits that seem interested in the news. She tries not to smile as Alseta herself seems to open a door for her, a path forward without conflict. "Pitax no longer has a king." The paladin announces with all the authority of one that made it so. "Samuel Cauditanus was elected Head of State by the People of Pitax in an election overseen by the Pact of Years. Castrotucci Irovetti abdicted the throne and now works for me as an advisor for the Pact of Years." She makes a small gesture downriver. "His flotilla to Touvette should have passed through here a few days ago."
Coming from anyone else, it would have sounded absurd- King Irovetti, giving up the throne and working for a paladin? It was either the truth or a bold, dumb, lie, but her shining full plate and Alseta eyepatch didn't look like it left any room for lies.
"I apologize for avoiding your question, but I thought it important you know the fighting in Pitax has ended and order is restored." She continues speaking oudly, before suddenly starting to move. First she gestures behind her at the mercenaries, an open palm of leather signaling for them to stay put, and then she begins to walk across the gangplank as if on an afternoon stroll, flaming greatsword perched on her shoulder in a way that is reminiscent of a pale-skinned Taldan noble carrying an umbrella to avoid the sun.
"You are not under arrest, because you have broken no laws." Rudabeh speaks as the wooden planks strain and shake lightly beneath her boots. "But it is my duty to rid the world of chaos, and I consider banditry a form of chaos, albiet a small one." Reaching the end of the gangplank, the paladin hops down off of the gunwale to board the other ship with a loud thud and rustle of plates.
"So I would like to offer you a deal, Skard." There was no fear in her voice or movements as she looks at Skard, her single eye focused on his face. "Relinquish the goods you have taken from this vessel and pass a test, and I will give you a personally signed document proclaiming you have no allegiance nor love to the former king Irovetti, as well as vouching for your fitness to serve Pitax as a leader of soldiers. You might imagine there is a shortage of arms when Irovetti's army dissolved, and Samuel is in need of enforcerers. I am sure many of your men would like to return home to their families... If you refuse, I am afraid I will have to invoke You Have What You Hold and sieze the goods you have taken, should you wish to defend them." There was no fear in her voice or movements as she stood on the deck of the ship, a bastion of courage and dedication if ever one existed.
"My test is simple." She holds out her right hand, palm up and parallel to the deck. "Take my hand and let the power of Alseta flow through you. You will only be able to speak the truth while under Her influence. Then tell me you cast aside the former king Irovetti's rule and prinicples, and you are willing to serve the interests of the People of Pitax to the best of your abilities."
Her hand, an invitation to a life in a house again instead of living in hasty lean-tos and shaking down merchants, hangs steadily in the air.
Teken agrees mentally saying, 'Of course.'
Although Rudabeh is focused entirely on Skard, she can't help but notice is use of Ractus's....nickname(?) causes a slight stir in the company. Among the younger or less experienced mercenaries, there is disbelief, confusion and more then a little concern. Litta, hands still on her bows, actually performs the cardinal sin of archers and looks around from her target, glancing back at Ractus. Aurelia looks confused and blinks, the light overhead faltering ever so slightly.
Thom and Ten-Fingers though merely grunt in acknowledgement or even with a hint of a grin. Draze, not having volunteered is far at the stern, face set in a hard grimace. Ractus himself seems unmoved but his eyes looks distant for a second.
Still all eyes turn back to Rudabeh as she casually strolls across the sturdy gangplank, flaming sword in hand. The wood underfoot creaks for a moment, and Rudabeh briefly considers how foolish she would look if the board broke and she was dumped int he dark river. Granted, a short swim held nod anger for her, but it might ruin the effect. Luckily the board seems to hold her weight easily, after then initial protest.
When the paladin hops onto the merchant boat with a rattle and slam, most of the bandits take an instinctive step backward. This time though, no one drops their weapons. But Rudabeh has no mind for them, at the moment, eyes locked on the rather imposing figure of Skard.
The soldier turned bandit seems to turn over Rudabeh's words in his mind, clearly debating how best to use this news to his advantage.
"Cauditanus?" he says bluntly, "Who?"
One of the bandits, a scrawny man who had dropped his blade, says, 'An artist, one of the best. He did some of the stauues-"
Skard cuts him off with a glare and then turns a smile on Rudabeh, "An artist in charge? And all the nobles gone? To the hells with joining him, maybe I prefer going back and setting up shop myself? With a new new mercenary company at my back?"
He looks over Rudabeh's company for a moment. Distracted by the bandit's maneuver, she almost misses the quick movement but Teken does not. 'Rudabeh!'
From his concealed pocket there is a audible crack, like a twig being snapped. Then many things happen at once.
In an instant the water around the merchant boat starts to churn and bubble, as if suddenly boiling. Rudabeh looks down and sees dark shapes emerging from the depths of the now turbulent river. Before she has time to react they break through the rippling surface, and start climbing up the sides of the boat. With a splash they knock the gangplanks into the water, although that seems more like an accident then purposeful tactic. Still, it leaves Rudabeh alone on the deck of an enemy ship.
The paladin stares at the creature climbing over the gunnels. Hideous humanoid creatures with slimy, transparent skin, webbed, humanoid hands and a snaggle-toothed, horse-like face. Rudabeh, no novice to maritime dangers knows these are kelpies, rather viscous fey who enjoy drowning and eating sailors.
Chaos breaks out on the mercenary barge as men and women reach for the fallen gangsplanks, and sailors try to right the rocking boat.
Rudabeh was not going to be so easily dissauded; she is about to open her mouth to argue with Skard, the virtues of Samuel's leadership and the struggles they faced to secure Pitax's future on her lips in a speech that would have surely stirred something within even the hardened half-orc's soul, when Tekken shouts his warning. So many feet away and lacking anything even resembling Ten-finger's keen throwing daggers, there would have been nothing she could do even if she had realized what was happening before hearing the auiable crack of something breaking.
She swings her head to look over the gunwale, and instantly recognizes the misshappen faces of the kelpies sneering up on the edges of her darkvision where the sorcerer's light does not reach. Quickly she backs up to both get out of range of the creature' claws and give her the distance needed to swing her greatsword.
Glancing back at Skard, she gives the bandit leader a disgusted look, like a merchant that was truly giving a deal of a lifetime had just had their face spit on. "Kelpies!" Rudabeh shouts in warning as chaos erupts on the deck of the mercenary barge. The undine did not tae the time to consider if these were magically summoned or merely lying in wait, somehow under Skard's command. It was a mystery for another time.
More importantly, her position was bad- caught between the bandits and the kelpie, they would quickly flank and overwhelm her, and no amount of Salamander-forged silversheen armor could protect her from a dozen opponents at once. Still, at least it was just her on this side of the barge, and the mercenaries could mount a full offensive once the planks were back up.
Reaching quickly to her side, she grabs her Iron Key and squeezes it tightly. With a mental command her armor's bevor shoots up to lock in place, and visor clamps shut over her face with a clang loud enough to ring her ears; leaving her fully encased within her shining armor.
In her mind Teken remarks dryly, 'Alone, flanked on all sides by an unknown number of foes. Impressive.'
In an instant Rudabeh's armor slams shut, like a clamshell withdrawing into itself. The key's magic leaves her hand tingling warmly for a moment and then the effect fades. The sound of pounding feet, shouts and the strange squelching kelpies is dimmed for a moment, as her hearing adjusts to the closed helmet.
Indeed, as she listens, she can make out what the horse-like fey are saying to each other, voices sounding oddly like water being wrung out of a dirty rag.
"Flesh! Just as he promised!" One cries while another replies, "Down, down they go!"
But another, bigger then most says, "Ware! Biting steel and burning flames. Ware!"
Then her attention is taken away as Skard begins to move. The big half-orc moves faster then Rudabeh would have expected, coming at her like a blur. His sword swings high and clearly the former guard hopes to end this fight in one swift stroke.
The sword lands with a crash on Rudabeh's shoulder with enough force to almost make her knees buckle. Gezzerbial's armor turns much of the force and the metal holds, but the sheer pressure is enough to let Rudabeh know her shoulder may have been dislocated or even cracked. At the least, she is going to have a horrible bruise.
Around, behind him,t he bandits look confused. A few are surprised by the appearance of the kelpies but most seem to have expected them. However, despite Skard's word, few rush forward to do battle. Clearly they were doing this to earn some coin and maybe a bit excitement. Suddenly being part of Skard's ego crusade was not what they signed up for.
However, at seeing Rudabeh alone and their leader winning for the moment, most begin stepping forward, weapons held out. They seem to be willing to reap the spoils if Rudabeh does poorly, if not actively help.
Rudabeh pieces together from the Kelpie's words that whatever this arrangement was, it was premeditated. Not that is changed the current situation, but it satisfied her curiousity.
This is fine. She calmly responds to Tekken's dry sarcasm, and it was clear the undine was not concerned about a few kelpie and a ragtag group of humans.
Still, Skard showed more skill and physical prowess than she exepected, and Rudabeh was not able to get her sword up in time to parry the half-orc's blow. The clever construction of the plate mail catches the sword and turns it into a grove that directs the edge away from her arm, but she still feels the shock of the blow resonsate through her pauldrons and shake her whole body.
Grunting loudly in pain and taking a staggering step back, she quickly rolls her shoulder to check her range of movement and shifts the grip on her sword into a low guard, the tip of the blade nearly touching the deck of the ship and briefly scorching the wood.
This is fine! She says again to Teken, though much more pained and certainly to convince herself more than him.
She hadn't had enough time to read Skard's aura, but did she really need to? Surely a man that would attack so suddenly and side with kelpies was an agent of chaos.
Focusing intently, Rudabeh whispers a prayer that echoes inside her helmet. "Alseta, please grant me the power to smite this inciter of chaos." Just as she feels the power of Law pulse from the holy symbol at her hip and bear down on Skald, she takes a step forward with her blade still held low and to the right, elbows in.
With a simple diagonal cut she swipes the air in front of Skard, but it was a ruse to trick him into thinking her reach was shorter than it was. Anticipating him stepping forward to try and reach her with his shorter weapon at the end of her next swing, she fully extends her arms into the second diagonal cut, trying to catch him as he inches forward.
"KILL THE KELPIE AND ANY BANDIT THAT RAISES A BLADE AGAINST YOU!" Rudabeh shouts to the company on the other side of the chaos between the two ships, hoping that the other bandits wuld realize that even if Skard managed to kill her, they would still have a ship full of mercenaries to deal with.
It takes more then a heavy blow, even from someone as strong and apparently savage as Skard to daze Rudabeh, and instantly the paladin is thinking how to counter attack. In her mind she can hear Finn's voice floating back. The mercenary had always said it was easy, when fighting someone strong and wild, to fall intot he trap of fighting the same way.
'Keep your head Had been Rudabeh's old teacher's watch words.
'Good advice.' Teken replies, obviously having detected the memory. 'I would like to meet her some day.'
Shaking both memory and armor out of her head, Rudabeh begins moving. With skill she feints a short swipe, inciting the bigger bandit to close. he does, clearly caught up in his own momentum and hopes of taking down the paladin in one overwhelming rush. His hopes are dashed when Rudabeh swings again, this time using her full reach and gaining those few inches.
Rudabeh is well trained with the blade, and knows an opening when she sees one. Her blow cut through the man's battered old mail like a knife through butter, opening him from shoulder to thigh in a bloody stripe down to the hard muscle. Blood sprays out, misting Rudabeh's burnished armor with red gore. The bandit howls in pain but his own instincts take over and he fends off Rudabeh's follow-up with his own sword, steel ringing on steel. Still, Rudabeh can see her own attack has caught him off guard and the man is very wounded. This fight might not last long....
Then she remembers the kelpies. Behind her she hears their sibilant chattering and half turns, sword held in guard.
The paladin's vision swims for a moment, the harsh light of the daylight spell fading, making her dizzy. Then it clears and to her surprises she sees, not an ugly horse-like fey intent on killing her, but a thin woman dangerously teetering near the edge of the boat. She was going to fall in! She was going to drown! Rudabeh had to save her.
'Do not be a fool!' Teken's voice rings in her mind, hard and hot as freshly made steel. 'It is a trick!'
Like a dropped mirror, the illusion shatters and reveals nothing more then a glamoured kelpie.
Teken approves saying, 'Good. Now, slay all of these foul creatures.'
Before Rudabeh can move two of the fey launch themselves at her, claws against steel.
The silvered armor turns most of their attacks of course, the hardened metal too smooth, too strong for mere claws. Gezzerbial knew his trade well and was no stranger to the biting maws of hungry foes. Yet one manages to lever up a small plate and slash at Rudabeh's inner thigh, drawing blood. This seems to excite the fey, who yelp and howl in joy at being able to do something against this metal monstrosity they were fighting.
Then a bow twangs and Rudabeh sees a blur of an arrow fly from Litta's hand, straight into the eye of on the kelpies. The beast falls back into the water, dead before it hits the surface. The ranger's usually fair face is hard and pale, and her hands work with machine like precision, born of long training. In an instant another arrow is set and her green eyes searching targets.
Meanwhile the other mercenaries are less sure, clearly unused to working together. Some try to gather up the fallen gangplanks, other try to attack at range (no one with Litta's skill) or simply watch things play out. Ractus bellows orders but few listen.
Silvui simply jumps the gap and the slender Varisian is soon standing next to Rudabeh, sword at the ready. Through a dueler's grin he says, 'Enough work for two?"
Skard, breathing hard, takes a few steps away from the now pair of foes. Stepping around one of his fellow bandits, he pulls a flask from a pocket and drinks it.
To her dismay, Rudabeh watches much of the damage she dealt heal in an instant, knitting up the deep cut. The gushing blood slows to a trickle, leaving behind a highwater mark of stained red.
The other bandits seem unwilling to close but the one between Rudabeh and Skard seems loyal and holds his spear up, taking a defensive posture. Behind, one bandit raises a crossbow and shoots it at Silvui.
The bolt catches the lightly armored man in the leg, and he nearly doubles over in a gasp of pain, as a fresh pool of blood begins to flow on deck.
"By Lady Luck's eyes, that hurts." The man grits out, holding the injury tightly.
The bandits seems to take some fresh encouragement from this, but still eye them warily. Rudabeh knows she needs to keep them undecided, because if they all rushed her at once....
Rudabeh is shunted out of her memory of Finn by Tekken's voice. How- She is about to ask the disembodied ifrit how he was aware of that memory before her training, or more appropraitely Finn's legacy, kicked the thought out of her head and kept her focused on not dying. Still, an unease lingered in the back of her mind, even as her arms buckled under the sudden, solid contact with Skard's armor.
Putting her entire body into the strike she slashes down his front in a decisive blow- blood crackles and sizzles on her sword, so much of it some boiling bits fly into the air as she changes direction and attempts to gut the half-orc. To his credit he parries the blow and sends her sword wide and to the right, bits of burning blood flying upward into the night sky.
The paladin is about to take a step back and try another slash along Skard's damaged side, but she notices as he stumbles backwards from her strike that he was not trying to catch himself, not trying to come in for another stab at her. No, Skard was about to flee. If he had dropped his sword, she would have spared him. If he would have said "I give up", she would have let him go. But Rudabeh was Finn's warrior, and Finn always said-
"It's a fight to the death until they drop something. Their sword, their dignity- to their knees."
And so Rudabeh responded without thought, bringing her sword around to her left hip in a rapid change of direction, hands sliding up near the guard and 4 feet of steel pointing directly at her foe. As Skard turns to flee to the reletive safety of his bandits she steps forward and thrusts the point of The Sixth Peak directly into his back.
The paladin easily pulls her sword back and spins to meet the kelpie threat that swarms across her to little effect; she coud not outmanuever these creatures, but with her armor she could outlast them. Their victory, which draws a grunt and a fresh rivlet of blood down her shining sabatons, was short lived as her blade turns against them.
Her left hand slides down the pommel as the right slides up, putting all her strength into a brutal horizontal cut aimed directly at the nearest cackling Kelpie's head. As the arc reaches her right side she twists her wrists and suddenly sends the blade in the other direction on the same simple trajectory to cleave through anything in her path.
As she draws her sword back into an Iron Door guard over her left shoulder, she notices Silvui has suddenly appeared with a clever remark. "Silvui, you were supposed to be attacking from the barge!" Rudabeh sternly remarks, her closed helmet making her sound like she's talking to him from inside a barrel.
A frustrated groan escapes her lips as the lithe human suddenly sprouts a crossbow bolt. "Break it off at the head with both your hands and get your blade up!" She instructs him quickly, moving near Silvui and swinging her sword out of its guard stance to wave menacingly at the encrouching kelpie.
----------
Skard hits the deck of the merchant vessel with a loud thud, falling heavily on the smooth wooden planks. The heavy bastard sword clatters out of his slack grip, falling into a thickening puddle of blood around the inert form of the bandit leader. Dead or merely comatose? Even Rudabeh's trained eyes can't tell at a glance but it won't matter long. Rudabeh's blow opened a long, jagged wound into the man's spine. If he wasn't dead now, he would be in moment's unless someone healed him.
"It's a metal bolt, damn them." Silvui says, clutching at the crossbow quarrel buried in his thigh. 'Who uses a metal bolt?" he pauses, takes a deep breath then pulls out the dull bronze spike. Dropping the bloody thing to the deck he straightens, breathing slightly easier, but the blood flows freely.
Meanwhile, Rudabeh has already turned to deal with the circling kelpies. It is more of a massacre then a fight, with Rudabeh looming large over the crouching fey fully armored and wielding a sword nearly as big as her foes. The paladin cuts through this violent agents of chaos like a farmer scythes his wheat and with little more danger. Two swings of her sword leave two kelpies bleeding and on the edge of death. The rest, hissing now, break for the gunnels, heading back to the water.
Her mercenaries finally re-affix the gangplanks, and starts climbing over them. Meanwhile, on the merchant boat, the rest of the bandits take one look at Skard's prone, bloody form, and promptly drop their weapons. A cheer goes up from the 'captured' boatmen, and a few pick up the dropped bandit weapons. More then a few have the angry eyes of vengeance and Rudabeh is already moving to stop a counter massacre when she notes something out of the corner of her eye. Movement and light from the nearby wooded bank. What was it-
The trees explode in light as a roaring comet of flames surges toward the merchant vessel. Rudabeh's eyes reflexively blink, shielding her from the blinding corona as the object flies through the air. Squinting Rudabeh can see it is not a formless ball of mere light, but instead a beast wrapped in flame.
It is a dragon! A reptilian shape, with wide wings and two grasping clawed legs. The armored hide is bright red, shot with streaks of dazzling gold. A long tail ending in a barbed point trails after it, snapping to and fro.
'It is not a dragon.' Teken says calmly, clearly not effected by the nearly painful spike of adrenaline rushing through Rudabeh's body. 'Merely a flame drake, a petty brute from my own homeland. Violent and obsessed with violence. Barely intelligent.' A pause and then, 'They rarely work alone, be prepared for another.'
Even as the unseen ifrit finishes speaking the dragon closes the gap over the river is soon flying right over the vessel. The drake is big but not monstrous, as Rudabeh's nerves settle slightly. More the size of a large horse, not of a large house as proper dragons are. Still, it looks quite capable.
With a roar it opens it's toothy maw and sends a ball of flame toward the merchant vessel.
Both Silvui and Rudabeh are suddenly encased in a roiling world of fire and pain, and even the undine armor does little to combat the savage heat. The fire vanishes in a moment but the merchant vessel deck is utter chaos. Small fires have started everywhere, among the piled ropes and boxes, smoking dangerously. Men and women are screaming, many horribly burned, along with a few kelpies incinerated when their thin flesh was unable to stand the brutal attack.
Those unburned are moving, with the bandits trying to merely escape while the sailors try to rally and prevent the fire from spreading. At the same instant Rudabeh's mercenaries, to their credit, start pouring over to the merchant vessel, weapons raised.
"Orders?" Litta shouts, fitting an arrow to her bow. Her voice is nearly drowned out by the crackling of flames, the screams of injured men and the deep guttural roar of the flying beast overhead.
Who does use metal bolts? Rudabeh considers at Silvui's comment, and decides this is probably Irovetti's fault somehow. She was going to instruct the young human to keep the bolt in so he didn't bleed out, but it was too late. Surely she could stop the bloodflow with her blessings from Alseta before he started to suffer any lightheadedness.
The kelpies go down with an ease borne of confidence and strength; she was an concerned about the creatures as she would be a lone goblin. Once their illusions were broken they were little threat to a trained fighter.
A cheer goes out and Rudabeh moves further in deck to allow more room for the mercenaries to disembark, making her way towards the sailors snatching up weapons. "Sailors, please!" She calls out in an effort to grab their attention. "They have surrendered. No one here is a murderer. By law-" The paladin's speech was interrupted by the sudden burst of light from the bank, and she makes the mistake of looking directly at the source.
Squinting against the bright flames covering the blazing creature, Rudabeh wishes she had another eye so she could focus properly on what seemed t be a dragon. Even Tekken's calm voice and measured explanation does nothing to settle the confusion in her mind. But why is it here?! Why now?! Is her only response, though she seems to come to better terms with the creature as it approaches. It wasn't so big.
The fireball, though. The fireball definintely caught her by surprise.
Suddenly she is coughing and stumbling about the deck, the familar and hated feeling of hot air burning her lungs once again torturing the undine's heat-sensitive organs. Instinctively she reaches to her right side and grabs her Iron Key, willing her visor and bevor open to let in any of the cool night air.
The paladin's helmet opens with a clang, and with her increased field of view she is able to take in the hell engulfing the vessel. Her own coughing now drowned out by the sounds of panic and screaming, Rudabeh swings her head from side to side to make sense of the chaos spreading from the drake's actions.
The mercenaries charge forward and Rudabeh looks back to the vessel, laying a hand upon her chest and channeling positive energy into her burnt lungs.
She tries to pick out the elven commander on the opposing deck, and shouts as loud as she can. "RACTUS! I need a volley on the drake on MY MARK! We will bring it down together!" The words hurt her throat, but they pierce the cacophany fine. With the dragonkin flying high above them, her only option was to trust Ractus to ready and organize the bow-wielding mercenaries and shoot it as one, taking down the menance before it can unleash another fireball or flee the scene.
Iron Key still in one plate-covered fist, Rudabeh lifts the symbol of her goddess high into the air, pointing it directly at the flame drake. "Alseta, grant us a moment of calm!" She intones, and from the shining (also slightly singed) paladin a wave of order erupts. Fear, anger, and confusion drain away in those caught in the aura, leaving only careful and deliberate thoughts and actions.
Still holding the symbol high with her right hand she props her greatsword up against a nearby crate, the flaming blade extinguishing itself as it leaves her grasp. Awkwardly Rudabeh retrieves her longbow from under her bag against her back, the yew weapon thankfully unharmed. The undine's one cold, sapphire blue eye stares the flame drake down, unwilling to allow this force of chaos to inflict any more damage upon the vessel she pledged to protect. Encased in the aura of calm, she felt nothing but a desire to follow her oaths and uphold her duty.
Rudabeh fills herself with a quick burst of healing divine power, feeling new skin cover the newest burns and her shoulder re-heal after Skard's reckless assault. The healing isn't as through as she'd like however, with the pain only pushed to the background, not banished.
As she heals, she looks around the burned and charred deck. Sailors run around, throwing buckets of sand or water onto the small fires while others throw the most flammable objects overboard. The pale patron of the vessel looks distressed at this, but grimly sets himself to the task of heaving cartons of grain and cloth into the dark water below.
Most of the bandits have fled, either below-decks in panic or having jumped into the river themselves. Already a few are stroking toward the shore in a total panic and rout. Rudabeh knew if it wasn't for her, they would each be killed and eaten by this drake in turn. Staying united and steadfast was their only defense now.
To her surprise Silvui is still upright at her side, although looking in extreme pain.
With a dry groan, the man glances at the circling drake and then at the cool water below. Rudabeh can clearly see the struggle in the man's mind between staying in a fight he cannot win and a possible escape. Slowly, and with a dreary finality, he steps back from the gunwale and holds his sword in a defensive position. Pride, or something else, had won out over self preservation.
Rudabeh, key in hand, once again taps that divine power within her. Feeling it surge through her body she projects it out like a great unseen lance toward the drake. A flare of protective and calming power.
The spell hits the drake and for a moment the massive fiery reptile grows still. The vast wings spread out like a bat and it glides silently, passing above the vessel. Then it writhes, like a beast in chains, throws it's mighty head back and lets out a bellowing roar of rage. Whatever had drove it to attack before was forgotten. Now it was out for revenge.
'Well, you got its attention.' Teken says mildly. 'Flame drakes hate mind control.'
Rudabeh ignores this for the moment, dropping her greatsword to the deck. The weapon lands with a loud clang, and the sharp edge gouges out a series of nasty splinters in the weathered wood. The paladin draws out her longbow, while shouting for Ractus to organize any of the ranged fighters. Out of the corner of her eye she seems the crippled man hobbling among the fighters, shouting and in some cases pushing them into some semblance of order. What success he makes it hard to say, and Rudabeh wishes again for the well oiled mercenary companies of her youth.
Meanwhile the drake, driven to fury by Rudabeh's failed spell, dives the paladin. Like a falling gemstone it rushes toward her, red and gold shimmering in Aurelia's daylight spell. With a strange beauty Rudabeh watches possible death hurtle toward her.
'Rudabeh!' Teken shouts in her mind, and despite him saying it, she looks to the rear of the diving beast.
With an adder's speed the barbed tail flicks toward her, swinging from the side. Rudabeh, forewarned, falls to one knee. In a strange parody of prayer, she kneels onto the hard wooden deck. The thick tail cuts through the air above her, missing her armored head by inches.
With a roar the drake doubles back, preparing to dive again.
As chaos continues to spread aboard the vessel, Rudabeh has only a moment to take stock of what is lost- goods, life, well being. It wouldn't have mattered what kind of paladin she was at this moment. It was her duty to stop this.
Silvui, to his immense credit, stays by her side. She glances into the black waters below, and remembers the opportunistic and likely angry kelpies that had fled. "Grab one of the wounded and get back on the barge!" She instructs the young man as he teeters on the edge of jumping into the water. "This isn't a sword fight!"
Indeed it was not- dragons were meant to be fough with magic and arrows, but as Rudabeh attempts to chain the drake's mind to the will of Alseta, she finds that arrows may be the only key to victory here.
Still, Rudabeh holds fast, feet planted firmly on the deck with her holy sybol held high as she tries to force the magic into the drake's mind. Even after Tekken's comments she holds, the wrought iron in her silver gauntlets as black as the waters below.
It wasn't until the red and gold reflection of the drake's scales were shimmering off of her armor that the paladin finally gives up and ducks at Tekken's warning, one armored knee smashing into the deck and sending a pain up her leg. The air above her seems to be cut in half, and her pressure-sensitive ears can feel the sucking void left behind by the drake's whip-like tail.
With a frustrated grunt she pumps the bruised leg and lets go of her holy symbol, the key swinging wildly on its copper chain with her movements. Ractus had best be ready. She thinks to Tekken as she stands tall and grabs an arrow from her quiver.
Bringing the yew longbow to bear, Rudabeh quickly knocks one of the cold iron headed arrows into the gut string, the white feathers of the arrow brushing against her hands and collecting some soot. "AIM!" She yells, her voice carrying over the drake's roars as it circles around for another strike.
Alseta, guide my arrow and let this chaos be purged from the land. Holy power flows through her and begins to disrupt the aura of the drake as her holy symbol pulses and offers a conduit for the power of Law to enter the material plane. Her silent prayer, meant only for her goddess and herself, float through her mind as she brings the fletching of the arrow to her cheek.
It was here she encountered a problem. Finn had fortunately taught her to shoot with both eyes open, but with her right eye missing the view down the arrow was... very different. In fact, how far away was the drake really? She wasn't sure, it all seemed so... flat.
The flame drake banks and starts to turn towards her as Rudabeh wrestles with her disability, and in a split second makes a radical change. She loosens her bow and switches the grip of her arrow from her right to the left hand, and the horn of the bow opposite, holding it southpaw. The unfamilar brush of the fletching against her left cheek was strange, but at least she was looking down the arrow and towards the drake.
All she could do was aim for hte center of mass and put the rest in Alseta's hands. Thankfully, the undine had faith to spare.
"LOOSE!" She shouts as the drake begins to make another dive towards her, the arrow twanging from her bow and speeding away.
-----------------------
Rudabeh barks her order, and she can hear Ractus repeating it a heartbeat later, his deep voice echoing over the snarls of the dragon and the splashing of the swimming bandits. In reply the company lets off a ragged volley that would make any drill master wince. The shots are accurate enough, and Rudabeh watches a cloud of arrows, bolts and at least one javelin rise up and shatter across the monster's thick hide. But instead of a single heavy blow of iron and wood, it is a rattling rain with no unity. Granted, that wasn't a critical failure here but in a real battle....
Even as Rudabeh raises her own bow to follow suit, she notes Aurelia pointing toward the reptile. Her finger suddenly bursts into am aura sickly looking green. With a crackle the young woman flings it toward the raging beast.
The projectile of light hits the flame drake's glittering hide and instantly makes the beast scream in pain. From below Rudabeh can see the tough scales writhe and warp, as if being weathered by a thousands years of wind and rain. In a moment the seemingly impervious hide looks cracked and worn.
Taking it as a sign, Rudabeh sights her own shot and looses.
The arrows flies through the night air, silhouetted by the still blazing daylight spell. Arcing through the air, it almost looks frozen in place for a moment, an unmoving dot on a shifting tapestry of light. Then it slams into the drake, sinking deep into the beast's chest up the fletchings.
The drake's roar cuts off into a hacking, wet cough. It wheels overhead, spraying thick orange blood below, as well as spitting fire. The circling beast weaves in the air, desperately clawing at its punctured chest with a bubbling shriek. Without looking back at the seemingly victorious paladin and mercenaries, the mortally wounded creature starts to drift back downstream like a great vulture.
The "volley" whistling through the air overhead reminded Rudabeh of the rain it was so poorly timed and in such volume. Still, it was something, and she thanked Alseta for sending her Ractus. Without the mercenary captain in the back literally calling the shots, the drake would have done so much more damage.
The paladin's single eye watches the drake reel from arrow after arrow, and the particularly potent magics of their resident sorceress seems to make a serious impact that she will have to praise the young lady for later.
She traces her own arrow as it flies true, feeling the satisfaction of a good well done as it nearly disappears into the creature's hide. Rudabeh is reaching for another arrow as drake begins to wheeze and spit, signaling its imminent demise. Fletchings find her cheek once again and she turns her torso to track the beast as it wheels in the air and starts to head south. As it crosses over her, she has a perfect shot at its throat.
There was not much time for thought, and indeed, the moment is decided in an instant, though to the paladin, and perhaps Tekken if he was probing her thoughts, it seemed quite a while. Before Pitax, Rudabeh would have loosed her arrow in an instant, felling the drake without mercy and ridding the world of another agent of chaos. And if she missed, she would have personally tracked it down and finished it off, wherever it roosted. But now...
Around her, fires burn and people shout. Others clutch their wounds or look over the side of the barge in the churning black waters for companions. Not only that, but she remembered the ifrit's words, that the drakes normally work in pairs. If she killed the drake, the other would surely come for revenge, perhaps now when they are weak and unprepared. But if she let it go, maybe it would stay with its mate and leave them alone.
The moment passes and the drake drifts downstream. Rudabeh relaxes her muscles and her bow returns to its resting shape. Without a glance back at the drake, she starts shouting to the gathered mercenaries. "Ractus, keep the archers at ready in case another drake shows up and your eyes on the sky!"
She puts the cold iron arrow back into her quiver and bow over her head, reaching out both hands to the nearby, teetering Silvui.
White light erupts from her hands and into his body, stopping the bleeding from his leg and healing the worst of his burns. "Go help the sailors fish out people from the river." She instructs the young man before turning and calling out others by name- one by one she gives the gathered mercenaries jobs suited to their skills, from putting out fires to securing the perimeter to gathering up or transporting the wounded for her to heal. "Bring the worst of your wounded to me!" Rudabeh shouts as she picks her sword off of the ground, the blade once more bursting into flames as her hand touches the hilt.
The flame drake was forgotten to the needs of the many.
You are letting it go?' Teken says dismissively when Rudabeh stays her hand and lets the wounded drake fly off into the velvet night. 'Why? So it can recover and terrorize someone else? Someone less capable then yourself?'
His tone turns to disgust as the former ifrit says harshly, 'Selfish.' And then he grows coldly silent, a mental version of turning your back on someone.
At Rudabeh's orders Ractus nods, pointing into the air and jostling archers. For this moment he looks barely wounded at all, stomping over the deck with firmness and direction. His voice is the bark of command, and he brooks no nonsense from anyone. For an instant Rudabeh can see the mercenary he had been, the leader he could be again.
For now the paladin turns back to needs closer at hand. Silvui, one hand on the gunwale, gingerly accepts her burst of healing. It only repairs the worst of the damage, but Rudabeh can see some of the tension fall from the young man's shoulders. The fighter manages a whispered sigh of thanks before sinking to the deck, shaking from shock.
Other mercenaries start to pour over onto the merchant vessel. Most follow her orders, helping fish out bandits and sailors from the dark water, putting out the few smoldering fires and gathering up the wounded.
To her disappointment she notes Ten-Fingers and Black Thom poking through the scattered remains of the cargo, surely pocketing small items of value.
"Here, help her!" A voice calls out, distracting Rudabeh. Turning back the paladin sees a knot of sailors bearing a middle aged woman with severe burns toward her. The burned victim is unconscious, skins eared from hip to face in a tortured landscape of black.
"The captain!" Someone gestures, "Help her!" Someone else adds urgently.
You said the flame drag.. drakes work in pairs. Rudabeh cooly thinks to the irate Ifrit in her mind as she lowers her bow. Maybe its mate will stay by its side to defend it instead of seeking revenge for its death. We can't handle another attack like that. She reasons out her decision, made all the more poignant by the continued yelling and screaming aboard the barge.
Yet, she is met with a stony silence. Rudabeh (mentally) rolls her eye (eyes? How many eyes does her mind's eye have now? Was it ever more than one?) at Tekken's sudden melodrama over a flame drake. She very nearly makes a comment about how he would fit in perfectly with the usually melodramatic undines of Outsea but thinks better of it. You said they are from the Plane of Fire, what does that mean? Do they not live... here? Rudabeh asks, trying to draw him out of his silence.
There was a surge of pride in her chest as she sees Ractus gathering together the archers and sweeping the sky. The paladin silently thanks Alesta for deciding to keep the elf back with the archers, where he could still help. It redoubled her idea that the man merely needed to be shown he was still useful, even in his physically crippled state.
And then her eye fell on Ten-fingers and Black Thom, ridding her of all pride and instead replacing it with a sinking disappointment that nearly flares into a rage. She is about to stomp her way across the deck and summarily escort the two mercenaries off of the barge, or perhaps toss them into the river, when a frenzy of sailors run up to her, carrying some... charred thing?
Rudabeh's stomach sinks when she recognizes it as a person. "Quickly, come here." She urges them, breaking into a jog that causes the flaming greatsword on her sword to flare and swoosh. Grimmacing as she gets a better look at the woman, the undine wonders if this was the shape she was in when Hiram found her outside the walls of The First Palace.
She reaches out a gauntleted hand, but stops short. Is she even alive? Quickly crosses her mind, Rudabeh being keenly aware of her limited stores of positive energy and the large number of wounded surrounding her. "Move aside." Is commanded quickly.
Retracting her silvery hand she leans forward, turning her head to try and feel the Captain's warm breath on her own perpetually cool cheek. Rudabeh was no healer, but she knew if most creatures were breathing they could be saved.
Teken says nothing to her thoughts, present but stonily silent. It is much like a child refusing to address an entreating parent.
Rudabeh looks over the horrifically injured woman, who looks more like a badly cooked piece of meat then a human being. Her clothes are burned, and fused with her melted skin in places to create a hard carapace of blasted ruin. Weeping droplets of blood and curdled plasma are spread across the woman's figure, making it look even more otherworldly.
The paladin leans close, trying to detect a breath, a pulse, any signs of life. She sees none but also sees no evidence that this is a mere corpse either. Rudabeh was no healer. Why had Alseta sent here and not Hiram to this woman? Then again, would Hiram have been able to save anyone from an angry fire drake?
Putting that aside, Rudabeh places a hand on the woman and wills a divine blessing. the familiar warmth wells up in Rudabeh's body and radiates into the burned victim at her feet. Around her Rudabeh can hear the whispered comments of the crew and feel the baited breath. The smell of a night river mixes oddly with charred wood and mangled muscle. It is a scent of blood and death that Rudabeh has encountered too many times.
The glow fades around the woman's form, the corona of healing slowly dissipating. As it is replaced by darkness, Rudabeh's quick eyes search for signs of life, of a change.
Nothing.
The woman is dead, claimed by the Mother of Souls.
A shudder goes through the crew, as a few remove hats or simply bows their heads.
But there are other victims, other injuries. Rudabeh is needed elsewhere. None of the other sailors are as savagely injured, although a few have long shiny burns the length of an arm or leg. Silvui himself is still obviously wracked in pain and shock, Litta kneeled down next to him, comforting him without concern for appearances.
But the bandits, by chance or design of the drake are more wounded. It would take much of Rudabeh's skill, time and magical abilities but she could save a few souls here that might otherwise not make it. No one else seems to care for the wounded bandits, apart from dragging them out of the river.
Rudabeh looks the woman over again as she tries to tell if her soul still clings to its mortal form, and grimmaces. The damage looks worse every time her vision crosses the Captain's body. Still- there were few communities as tightly woven as those on a ship, and the Captain was the head of the community.
She had to try.
Placing her leather-covered palm on the woman's sickly flesh, the glow of positive energy radiates outward from her fingers and searches for whatever life is left to little avail. Shaking her head slowly from side to side, the paladin straightens. "I am sorry." She says solemnly to the gathered crew, bowing her head and grabbing her Iron Key.
"May Alseta show this one's soul the quickest path to Pharasma's court, free of danger or distraction. May they leave behind fond memories in those that knew them in life, and their legacy carried on here in the material plane." Rudabeh continues in quiet reverence, though she was probably a strange sight- her greatsword still burned with fiery intensity on her shoulder, casting orange lights off of her silvered armor, even as she stood still in solemn prayer.
With a nod to the sailors Rudabeh lets go of her holy symbol, the key rattling softly as it drops on its chain. She briefly casts an eye over the shivering, wounded bandits. They were in sorry shape, and she could tell several would not last the night. But her cyclopian vision slides off of them, unconcerned for now. Though they were victims of chaos just as the others on this boat were, they had chosen this path, and they had received a punishment Rudabeh could not have given them herself. She would corral and deal with them later.
Raising a gauntlet to her own chest, healing energies surge through her. This time her breathing comes much easier, and the singed feeling on her face gives way to the cool night air.
Rejuvenated, the paladin looks again for the two mercenaries that had drawn her ire, a sapphire eye sweeping the deck of the merchant vessel. Wherever Ten-fingers and Black Thom were, Rudabeh begins to walk towards the thieving pair with all the single-minded intensity and stealth of an iron golem.
Rudabeh's sober words seem to pass through the small crowd of sailors like waves in a still pond. Not unnoticed but not changing very much. She leaves the crew to their grief. Part of Rudabeh realizes of all the people to die, the merchant ships captain was the least friendly to maintaining order.
The paladin ignores the wounded and dying bandits for the moment, and instead healing herself. This time the burst of healing radiance is strong and invigorating, knitting up most of her torn muscles and cracked bones. Even as her skin heals, and become smooth, cool and moist again she wonders how often she has done this. How many times have her bones cracked or skin split only to be magically healed in mere moments? How much of her was magically regenerated these days? Half? All? it was an amusing philosophical question.
Putting that aside, Rudabeh heads for her less then honest mercenaries. To her dismay the two seem to be old hands at the game and both have long since left the 'scene of the crime'. Black Thom is helping heave bandits and sailors out of the water, the stout dwarf's strength coming in great use as they pile both living and dead near the stern.
For the moment Ten-Fingers is no where in sight, and Rudabeh's baleful eye of justice is temporarily thwarted. Then, to her surprise she sees the wiry woman emerge from below-decks with a bottle in her hand, and the other arm draped over a shaken looking sailor.
At seeing Rudabeh the sailor, a youngish man with a frail goatee, locks eyes. 'Is she dead? Is the Captain dead?"
A single look at Rudabeh's face, and a glance to the assembled crew behind tell him all he needs to know. A shudders passes through the sailor, who runs his hand through a thick mop of sandy hair.
"Then I am in charge, then." he says, oddly to Ten-Fingers whom seems to...smile?
Without another word he heads off toward the landsman whom Rudabeh assumes is the merchant patron of the vessel, who is looking over the sorry remains of his cargo.
Ten-Fingers grins knowingly at Rudabeh, "It is ours, Rudabeh. The cargo. I took one look at that burned Captain and knew she was about to stuff it. So, making sure to put the Company first," She adds piously, 'I hurried off and found the number two man. I convinced him that if the Captain is dead, that voids deal with the merchant. In all fairness he can renege on the deal and seize the cargo that is left. Cargo which, I'm sure, he will sell to us at a cheap rate considering he has no idea how to sell cargo and as well as being in debt to us for rescuing his ship."
She winks, "Nice bit of work, isn't it?"
Rudabeh is unsurprised that Ten-fingers and Black Thom had long fled the scene- she knew when the sailors approached her with the Captain the two would be gone by the time she had finished healing her or delivering last rights.
But it didn't matter; she had saw the act, and did not need to prove anything to anyone.
To Black Thom's credit, he was at least doing what she had directed him to do after he had filled his pocket with ill-gotten gains. Ten-fingers, however... The paladin stops near the stairs to below deck when she hears a pair of footsteps climbing upward, the still bare ridges of her eyebrows raising slightly when the woman in question, and a young man, emerge from below.
A single nod confirms the Chief Mate's concerns, and she supposes that does in fact make him the Captain. Rudabeh's eye does not even follow him as he leaves her and Ten-fingers alone, and the paladin is unervingly silent as sneaky woman spills her entire plan to sieze the ship's cargo through questionable means. It reminded her of a scheme her father would cook up, and was admittedly clever, but she didn't care about that.
"I would assume you're quite familiar with the merchant's cargo, considering I saw you and Black Thom helping yourself to it earlier." Rudabeh says flatly, her face twisting into a grimmace that even made the deciption of Alseta on her eyepatch look displeased. "After witnessing your actions I can no longer trust either of you to not take from us, too, when the opportunity presents itself. In addition these are actions incompatible with the mission of The Pact of Years. Both you and Black Thom are no longer under my employment or protection and are hereby relieved of your positions."
The paladin's weight shifts on the wooden deck, the plates covering her body grinding against one another. "You were promised payment by me for assisting in defending this barge." Rudabeh continues cooly in a bussiness-like tone. "I will consider the items you pocketed your share and payment to make us square." This was a technicallity that she had to let go- according to Have What you Hold, Ten-fngers and Black Thom's pocketing of the cargo after they took control of the ship was their right because no one contested them.
It didn't mean Rudabeh had to stand for it, though.
"If I see you or Black Thom step foot on Ostend's vessel, I will make sure your nickname is changed to Five-Fingers and will return what you siezed to the merchant." Is promised flatly as she invokes the most common punishment for thievery in the River Kingdoms- cutting off one of the thief's hands. "I hope you and Black Thom find work with your new friend, the recently promoted Captain of this vessel. I am sure when you tell him of your many herorics against the drake and bandits he will at least owe you a trip back to Pitax." The undine says in eerily polite, if slightly sarcastic tones, while her face remains a fixed in a disappointed stare. "Please excuse me, I must find and examine the contract laid out by the merchant and the deceased Captain to see if the words you convinced the new Captain of are true."
The flames that were enveloping the paladin's greatsword suddenly extinguish as the holy spirit empowering it unbinds itself from the weapon as she turns her back to Ten-fingers, and Rudabeh pays it as little mind as she did the (former) company mercenary behind her. Rudabeh smoothly walks across the deck towards the new Captain and the landsman merchant, seriously intent on mediating the situation that has surely been stirred by Ten-finger's plot.
Ten-Fingers first looks sly at Rudabeh's words, as if assuming this is a ploy or 'angle'. Indeed she half opens her mouth, probably to offer part of her ill-gotten gains in payment. Then, perhaps for the first time, she finally locks with Rudabeh's stare and takes a measure of the formidable paladin in front of her. Instantly Ten-Fingers face falls in disappointment, quickly replaced by forced disdain.
"Letting us go then? No trial of our peers? No appeal to the Captain?" Rudabeh knows some companies have different methods of removal, and she has known Finn to stand up to patrons to protect various members but that was all unlikely here.
"I should go to Ractus and sees if he agrees with you." She goes on, "Letting me go over your own morals."
Then she shrugs, "But fine, go ahead. Let go two of your best fighters. Black Thom nailed that dragon with his javelin, and you'll miss him next time. As for me...well, who can say when you'll miss me?" she laughs, "Next time you need a dirty deed done, and you will need it done. Everyone, even you, needs people like us."
With that she walks away toward Black Thom, face set in a careless smile but Rudabeh can see anger and embarrassment beneath it.Turning her back on such an obvious foe violates more then a few of Finn's old maxims, but not stab in the back comes....not yet anyway.
In a few moments Rudabeh strides over to the newly minted ship captain and the young merchant factor. The argument between them is more tired then tense. Both men are so young and pale, Rudabeh feels like she is watching two children bicker over toys, even more then usual.
'Captain, I understand your meaning but I still have a job, my entire village depends on these items..."
The equally young captain waves a hand dismissively, "I don't really care, Paren. I'm in charge here and I'm canceling the contract. I need something to make this worthwhile and make good our losses. The Captain's family will need reimbursed too..."
'With my goods?'{/b] The merchant says bitterly, spitting on the deck. [b]"A contract is an oath, snake."
Things are growing more heated as Rudabeh watches, although she knows much of it is anger at the drake attack and not commercial concerns. This entire argument is illogical, really. But can she make them see that?
Rudabeh had arguments a plenty to refute Ten-fingers words, but she remained silent. It was clear that the paladin had made up her mind and this was no debate, no trial. "Someone will find a use for your skills, but it is not me." Rudabeh states as she and the roguish woman part ways; the paladin even offers her a final, neutral prayer. "May Alseta show you the path you seek."
Ten-fingers comments sticks in her mind about everyone needing a dirty deed done. Did she? Without Dagen, would she have been able to secure the mercenaries that she was now judging? Was there at any point in her life that she was unable to solve a problem by acting above board, in the light of the truth? Would there ever be a day when Rudabeh, Paladin of Alseta, wished she had the services of an untrustworthy thief?
She hoped not.
The thought bothers her as she approaches the two young charges of barge and cargo, thankful that Tekken was still mad enough at her not to comment on his handling of Ten-fingers dismissal. The gods only know what he would have to say about that, and she wasn't in the mood for it.
"Gentlemen, please." The undine begins in a pleading tone after she sees Paren spit on the deck. As she approaches them, the deep thud of her boots on the deck and the rustle of her armor crowd out much of the noise surrounding them. "This has been a trying night for us all. Let us take a step back and work together instead of against one another. Now, I understand there is a dispute about the contract regarding the ownership and shipment of these goods." She lays a hand on her breastplate, covering Tekken's soul gem with a slightly burnt gauntlet. "I am more than willing to offer you both the Eyes of Alseta and can review the contract laid out between the Former Captain and... Paren, yes...?" Her head shifts to the merchant, as she indicates his name. "...To determine what the correct course of action should be under the old contract, and if need be, draft a new contract."
Rudabeh's body shifts as she turns her head to the new barge Captain and speaks quickly, intercepting any comment he may have about a new contract. "I understand your desire to make up for the losses that were suffered today. But I urge you to instead take a moment to consider what this would entail. Paren would tell other merchants how you siezed his goods in his most dire hour, like a bandit, and word would spread to the point where you, and this barge, would struggle to find honest work. On top of that, you may know the river, but do you know the prices of these goods? Whom to sell to and when? In the hands of Paren these goods are worth much more money than you or I could sell them for, and he will able to pay you fairly because of it."
She lays her right hand out, palm up before her, greatsword still tucked into the crook of her left arm. "So I ask you, let us review the contract together, and come to an agreement that benefits everyone." Rudabeh looks between them, a sincere expression on her face as she seeks their mutual agreement to work it out. The shining paladin had minutes before arrived like a tidal wave, fighting bandits and drakes, but was now carefully brokering a deal between two tired and confused young men.
The young caption wheels on Rudabeh, shouting, 'And who the hells are you anyway?"
He pulls up short when he takes in the tall, armored paladin standing behind him. Slowly, his eyes find the holy symbol around her neck and the signs of Alseta emblazoned on the eyepatch.
"Oh." he says shortly, voice suddenly quiet. "Sorry, arbiter."
Paren, the young merchant actually bows his head and says formally, "Forgive our words, justice. We have had a trying evening."
Rudabeh's position as a traveling judge, arbiter and negotiator of the Alseta faith is a time honored one in the River Kingdoms. Indeed, for many places they were the closest thing to an objective source for rulings accepted by many. While jurisdiction was a tricky thing that relied more on cultural norms then a legal framework, Rudabeh's role is a known one here, with centuries of weight behind it. It also does not surprise her that the landsman has more respect then the probably Hanspur worshiping Captain.
Rudabeh accepts their apologies easily, her mind already working through accepted custom, law and precedent on the issue. Ironically, despite her training as a warrior and her recent struggles this is far more familiar to her then open street battles. The undine has spent years of her life traveling around the River Kingdoms sorting out such disputes, and was merely one of hundreds of fellow acolytes int he service of the Welcomer. Even with the vast expansion of legal frameworks due to the Pact of Years, much of the land was still ruled by traveling justices asking for little more then room and board (although, as the Sixth Peak indicated, sometimes they were paid more handsomely).
In short order the formal contract is brought up, and Rudabeh gives a small sigh of relief. Even having a written contract makes this a more formal procedure then some arguments she has had to arbitrate.
Around her the chaos settles as wounded people are tended to, items stacked and weapons sheathed. Rudabeh focuses on her two litigants, but does note ten-Fingers and Black Thom not going back to the mercenary vessel. Ractus is nowhere to be seen, yet and Silvui is still recovering.
The contract is short and standard, obviously based on a template probably long used by the now deceased Captain. It provided for the transport of a load of goods, itemized below, from a village in the Kingdom of the Free to the downstream market at Gralton. It provided for cases of damage, theft, delay and other hindrances on the river. Typically, there was an upfront payment as well as a percentage of the total sale in Gralton (this was a canny way for villages to avoid being gouged by not knowing current prices at a given location of sale).
Sadly it does not provide any language about the death of the Captain and the contract seems to be worded between the Captain and the village itself (represented by Paren). Such breaches of contract are not uncommon and usually the contract is simply renewed when something unexpected like this happened, but legally and by custom, right now the contract is not enforceable. For all of her sharp dealing, Ten-Fingers was right and the cargo (what remains of it) could quite easily be confiscated without breaking any oaths or deal. Indeed, should could even claim it for herself if she wished, without raising many eyebrows even in the Pact of Years.
The tired words of the new river captain glance off of Rudabeh like a stone bounces off her silversheen armor, and she takes no slight to them. Indeed, she says little as the contract is produced, and pours over it with a critical eye- which had thankfully not been the one claimed in the explosion.
This is a standard contract, with no clause or insurance for the death of those bound to it. She thinks openly as she nears the end of the document. Rudabeh knew Tekken was mad at her, but she was going to keep him in the loop regardless. Ten-fingers may be a scoundrel, but she is a clever one. by law and custom of the RIver Kingdoms these goods can be lawfully taken by any that have the power to do so.
A frown crosses the arbiter's face as she looks between the the two young men. "I'm afraid there is no langauge to cover the death of the Captain in this document. The agreement is void and the ownership of these goods is currently in limbo." She holds up the contract in her right hand, holding the edge with her thumb and forefinger while tapping the signatures at the bottom.
"I would advise the contract be renewed as is between the new Captain and Paren, with the exception of a new up-front payment, which I assume has already been supplied when the ship launched." She glances at the new Captain, her bright eye easy to see even in the dim light of the night. "Otherwise, I will be taking the cargo and welcome Paren and any of his associates onto the neighboring barge where the two of us will negociate our own contract for transportation down the river and the eventual cut from the sale of these goods." The paladin was tactfully putting this young Captain between an abysal drop-off and a tiger shark, which to a human was probably way worse than a rock and a hard place. Either he accepts the previous contract, or he gets nothing other than a chance to fight a heavily armed and armored paladin. Osten was the unaccounted variable in all of this, and she suspected he may react poorly to suddenly have cargo and other personalle brought aboard, but Rudabeh was sure she could win him over with his cut.
The metal plates covering her finger effortlessly slide as she taps the contract again. "You have both lost much today, but you can both still come out with something. I urge you both to resign the contract I will amend and officate." There is a glance at Paren, who the paladin had left out of the difficult situation so far. It went unsaid, but she had opened the way for the merchant to also refuse to sign the contract and come with her, instead, and enter into whatever deal she would make with him.
The captain looks unimpressed at Rudabeh's description of the contract and even mutters, "We can both read.". Paren though merely nods formally, as solemn as any barrister in an Outsea courtroom.
When she makes her 'offer' however, the captain looks up quickly, face cloudy with anger and confusion. "This is your idea of a fair deal? Take the same offer or be forced to lose everything? This contract was to keep us going for the next month, we have families to feed. And now, after being attacked by a bloody dragon, I can't ask for a bigger slice of it?"
The man glances at Rudabeh's smudged armor, the gleaming sword and her unwavering eye. He grits his teeth, "Well, I can't exactly argue, can I? You'd cut me in half with that big sword, or have one of your cronies do it for you."
Paren is silent for a long moment, and Rudabeh wonders what is going through the merchants head. Calculation, probably. Weighing what deal was better, the old contract or whatever he could strike with Rudabeh? Odds are he could hammer out something better with the undine, after all. The paladin was not in this for coin and Alseta did not look favorably on sharp business practice (although prudence was rewarded).
Slowly Paren says, voice soothing, "I would prefer to re-new the contract. With one small change." He holds up a uncallused hand, "That the old Captain's share goes toward her children. I know she has a son in Voluse, at the least."
"And a daughter in Daggermark." The new captain says, a bit grudgingly, but what is he to do? Spit on the memory of this obviously respected former leader?
"Fine, I'll sign the deal but don't expect a way back home. I'm never doing business with your village again."
Paren sighs but shrugs, "And that is your right." he turns to Rudabeh, looking older then his years, "Thank you for your arbitration, Master Rudabeh. May Alseta herself look favorably on our choices this night. Please, draw up the document. I am sure all of us need some rest."
"It was a flame drake." She says evenly, not wanting the misinformation about the identity of the creature to spread. "Paren lost as much to the bandits as you did to the drake. You are both on even footing." The paladin continues dryily in the face of the new Captain's anger. She wasn't about to say this deal was for his own good, but it was.
There is a solemn nod of approval from Rudabe when Paren sees the sense in the whole situation, and adds in a gesture that will further increase the goodwill between himself and the Captain. "Very well. Give me one moment." Propping her sword up against a nearby crate, she uses the same surface to localize her writing materials. The document spends a few moments under the undine's lapis lazuli inlaid fountain pen, her writing still sweeping and bold, though less legible than she'd like, due to the leather covering her fingers. Normally she would take off her gauntlet to write, but Tekken was upset enough as it was.
She hands off the pen to the Captain and Paren in turn, then officates the document with her own signature. "A door closes, a door opens." Is said with religious reverence as she hands the finished document back to its beneficiaries.
"We have one last matter to discuss, gentleman." Rudabeh says as she notices both of them move to leave. "I work for the glory of my Goddess, but..." She makes a motion with her thumb over her shoulder at the mercenaries. "These men and women do not. I know you have suffered at the hands of the bandits and the drake, so as their representative I will not ask for much." With a scraping of plates Rudabeh bends down and gathers up her greatsword, the blade towering above her head as she cradles the hilt in the crook of her left arm.
"I ask but a gold piece a head, and ten gold for Captain Ostend, who ultimately decided to rescue you. The cost should be split between the two of you. In addition, we will be taking whatever belongings we wish from the bandits and will be relieving you of any corpses." It seemed like a fair deal to her, and neither of them had little excuse to plead poverty now that she secured a deal for both their future profits.
RUdabeh writes up the legally binding document, literally in the gleam cast by her sword. The symbolism is accidental but very real. It wasn't a bad thing to be strong in the wild River Kingdoms but a tiny part of Rudabeh's mind wonders how she would go about her duties if she could no longer command respect for her choices with armor and blade.
Then again, she had dealt with Irovetti and her strength had been little use there.
Paren and the Captain sign the new trade agreement without any ceremony or further wrangling.
However, at her....request for payment, both of them look surprised. The Captain reacts first, voice hot and disbelieving.
"You are going to force yourself on our trade deal and strong-arm me into agreeing to it...and then charge me for it? he says, voice loud enough to be heard all over the ship.
"I knew the stories they told about the Pact but I never wanted to believe it. What are you going to do if I don't agree, threaten to take my ship and cargo by force...again?"
Paren holds up a hand, "I am greatly in debt to the mercenaries for their timely arrival. Odds are we would all have been killed by the dragon without your air."
"Assuming they didn't attract it, with all of their lights." The other man says sourly.
Ignoring him Paren goes on, voice low, "In any case, I simply cannot pay. Not because your price is unreasonable, in fact it is probably below market rate for such services but simply because I lack the coinage. My assets are as you see, goods for trade. And even they have been badly damaged by fire, water and plunder. I will be lucky to may a third of the hoped for profit for my village this year."
"I'm not charging you for my services, which includes killing Skard, chasing off the kelpie, organizing a defense against the flame drake, attempting to resuscitate the former Captain, performing her last rites, and negociating your trade deal." Rudabeh says flatly and calmly with little change in her facial expression, though she certainly doesn't skip anything she's done for the two of them.
"I am representing the mercenaries that helped chase off the flame drake, and Captain Osten, who made the choice between responding to your distress signal or leaving you to the bandits." The paladin's voice is not raised, and many on the ship would only hear one side of the conversation.
Shifting in place, she turns her head to look over her right shoulder at the wet or dying bandits piled up in a confused mass near the portside gunwale. "I suppose if Paren lacks the liquid capital we can shake down the bandits and sell their belongings to cover the costs of the mercenaries." Her head turns back to the newly appointed Captain, who she is disliking more with every passing moment. "But that still leaves Captain Osten and his crew. He took a massive risk to save your vessel and deserves to be rewarded, however small."
Her head lowers slightly as she looks the shorter human in the eye. "I am no shipwright but a barge is worth far more than ten gold."
Paren shrugs, "As I said, I am happy to pay and willing admit it but simply have no coinage. Of course the loot from the bandits is yours, I wouldn't want it anyway." he adds piously.
The captain still looks mutinous saying, "So the whole cost falls on me and my crew? My first act as Captain is going to be paying you for the privileged of being attacked by a dragon and then agreeing to a bad deal? What if I say we don't have any gold either, are you going to search the bilges and make me a liar?"
For one long moment he gazes fiercely at Rudabeh's single eye, and she fears the worse. Would this man really refuse point-blank and upset an already tense situation?
Then the spell is broken when a person walks over to the little knot of argumentation. It is one of the sailors, a middle-aged woman with gray hair braided over a wide shoulder. She has that solid, no-nonsense look that most get on the river after a few decades, and moves with assurance.
"Come on, Brok. Give it up." She says bluntly to the newly minted Captain. "Just pay it so we can bury the dead."
All of the young man's aggression visibly seeps out of him. Clearly the remark from a crew-member strikes a different way then from Rudabeh.
"Fifteen gold, all I can do." he mumbles and staggers off toward the lower hold.
Paren nods and hurries off to see to his remaining cargo, clearly concerned about sticky mercenary fingers.
The female sailor shakes her head and says, apologetically, "Sorry about the lad. It is a hell of a way to take command, over fire and water. I've seen many do worse. I'll keep an eye on him." she says, and then follows her new captain below, never even bothering to give her name.
One job down, plenty more to go.
Rudabeh moves to help strip and loot the bandit corpses, which the others have already done. She does note the job is done fairly and efficiently, without any gratuitous violence or unwholesomeness (except for the one man who simply hacks off the fingers to get to the rings). The wounded sit near by, subdued and broken. There isn't much resistance left here.
As she starts to direct things Ostend meets her halfway on the gangplank, seemingly unwilling to actually fully step off his barge.
"You bringing the dead and wounded bandits on board?" he asks lightly, "I don't recall agreeing to that, Rudabeh. The last thing I need is a bunch of sick men on-board, making a mess and cluttering up my hold, let alone the dead ones. I agreed to take your Company, not your Company and anyone else you took a fancy to, prisoner or not."
Rudabeh wasn't about to break in this situation- she would either receive the money from the newly minted Captain by his own hand, or she would teach him some manners by retrieving it herself. She opens her mouth to reply in one last appeal to reason when an older sailor intervenes.
It wasn't just Brok that changes- Rudabeh too seems to stand straighter (hardly noticeable given her excellent posture) and listens intently to what the old sailor had to say. Even if the undine was older than this woman by a few decades, it was ingrained in her being to heed the words of the old salts.
Brok runs off, causing Rudabeh to glance in his direction and then back to the retreating Paren. The paladin takes in a slow breath through her nose and looks to the wizened sailor, bowing her head slightly. "Thank you." Is said sincerely and respectfully before turning away with a roll of her shoulder, shifting the weight of her sword in her arm.
I am fairly sure Alseta sent that woman. That was not going well. Rudabeh thinks openly, though she didn't expect Tekken to reply to her.
Moving to the cluster of bandits, it was easy to see they were cowed and would pose no further threat- now was the time for mercy, if it was warranted.
She notes the man making butcher's work out of someone's hand, and was contemplating whether it was disrespectful or not when Osten meets her as she is about to haul a corpse aboard.
"I apologize, Captain Osten. I was trying to move as quickly as possible so we could leave, lest the flame drake return with its mate." She says sincerely, putting down the dead man she was dragging and realizing it looked more like a roasted pig than a man.
Turning her gaze back to the Captain, she speaks bluntly. "I ask your permission to bring the dead and wounded aboard. The dead so I may give them their last rites and bury them at water or land, and the wounded so I can do the same if they happen to pass." There is a brief gesture to the inky black waters lapping quietly between the two ships. "I will respect your decision to not bring them aboard should you so choose, but if we throw the dead into the water now I worry about attracting monsters or their bodies raising as undead."
Rudabeh had laid out her case- it was not a matter of benevolence or pity she wanted to bring the bodies and wounded aboard, but one of risk management and preventing the spread of chaos.
Tekken does not reply, apparently still in a funk. How long do ifrit hold grudges?
Ostend narrows his eyes at Rudabeh's proposal. Another sailor, passing by offers, "Taking the dead aboard is bad luck, everyone knows that."
Ostend frowns and says, sharply, "Get back to work, Lank. There's enough to be doing." The sailor winces and quickly makes himself scarce.
The half-elf sighs and says, "While I don't hold with much superstition myself, I should note most of my crew will feel the same way. We already had the bad luck of running into a flame drake, do we really want to give a supposed reason?"
"We will take the wounded, that's only fair. But I won't take the dead. Take care of them at water or I can tow you to land, whichever you choose." A pause and then he adds, "They might be Hanspur worshipers anyway, and would prefer being dropped into the river. I doubt many followers of Alseta go in for banditry."
He opens his mouth, closes it, then gives a wry smile, "I was going to ask if you had a holy one among your Company but I suppose that would be you. You wear many hats, Rudabeh. Excuse me, I have to get our barge river-worthy again. Give a shout if you need help getting that other ship ashore."
A hairless brow is lifted at the one called Lank. She had of course heard such things, but given the sheer amount of supersitions sailors held dearly it usually took a scholar to separate what was a product of the mind or real magical phenomena.
Rudabeh says nothing as the Captain makes his decisionn, and she bows her head low when it was given. "Aye aye." She says crisply with the practiced preceision of a seasoned seaman as her head rises back straight. It was clear she wasn't even considering arguing. "You might be surprised about the bandits, though." Rudabeh commants as she bends down to hoist the burned corpse up and other her shoulders, face scrunching as she attempts to ignore the smell. "Bandits come from all walks of life, and in the River Kingdoms it's just another way to feed one's family."
With a body over her shoulder sshe moves down the length of the gunwale, stopping as far down the aft as she can go. Her singular eye can see down into the dark, slowly lapping waves, the gently slopped rests white in her darkvision. "May your actions in life be seen as holy in the eyes of your god, and may Pharmasa judge you worthy to enter their realm. Though we may have been enemies in life, I hold no grudge against you and hope you hold no grudge against me. Be at peace, and follow the tuggings of your soul to begin the next phase of your journey in the Boneyard." Her solemn prayer finshed, she turns and lets the body slide off of her pauldrons and over the side of the gunwale where it plummets into the water below. Rudabeh holds her Iron Key within her hand as she watches it fall and make a splash, turning away only as the water fully settles.
The paladin carries forward Ostend's instructions, and has the mercenaries escort the wounded onto the ship while she gives the dead last rites and interns them into the river. It was hard work- humans were heavy, and by the time she had let Skard fall into the river after repeating the same prayer everyone else got, Rudabeh was tired.
Rolling her still stiff shoulders in a few circles and checking the bleeding on her left arm, she plods her way back to the gangplank to make a final exit off the barge without any goodbyes; though she does glance backward to ensure everything was in order and all mercenaries (that hadn't been kicked out of the company) were aboard. Brok, too, would be tracked down and made to deliver the reward she requested for Ostend.
With the final brief check complete, she picks up her sword that was leaning against the gunwale and swings the blade onto her shoulder. The woodened gangplank groans in prostest when two hundred pounds of undine and steel cross it, but she shows not the slightest of fear. "Please tell the Captain we are all accounted for and ready to shove off." She relays to a nearby sailor before turning and looking for Ractus.
There was one question on her mind, and she needed his years of experience to help answer it. "How many flame drakes have you seen in the River Kingdoms, Ractus? That was my first, in any place. Teken says they are native to the Plane of Fire... so why was one here?" She would ask when she finally tracks down the elf.
Skard's body hits the river with a final splash, floating for mere moments before sinking below the rippling surface. In an instant they are gone, out of sight, and sent both to the hungry river and to the Gray Lady beyond. Rudabeh makes her way to the gangplank, without further ceremony.
Just as her boots hit the walkway back to her barge, she detects movement out of the corner of her eye. turning she spots one of the wounded bandits step forward, a huge man with shoulders even broader then Rudabeh's. For an instant the paladin has a vision of violence, of the giant throwing mercenaries int he water and staging a prison break. Then, through the night gloom, she catches sight of the sad, heavy face. No, this is grief not anger.
He stands at the gunwale, looking down into the inky waters of the river. Slowly, without preamble he says, voice deep and mournful as a funeral bell.
'Full fathom five thy father lies;
Of his bones are coral made;
Those are pearls that were his eyes:
Nothing of him that doth fade,
But doth suffer a sea-change
Into something rich and strange.
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell:
Hark! now I hear them,—ding-dong, bell.'
Then, without another word the massive man takes a step back into line, with the rest of the cowed bandits.
Then, in the silence Teken intrudes, 'Your bandits are well spoken.' and then nothing more.
Rudabeh finds Ractus, just as the barge shoves off, to wind the main current again. The gentle slide into the main channel is soothing for the undine, for despite worshiping Alseta she has always felt a great connection to the river, deep as any pilot. The subtle interplay of water and wood below her boots feels as right as rain to the paladin. She almost wishes it would start raining again, but the sky while cloudy, seems stubbornly dry.
Finding Ractus though, dispels her positive mood. The man is, already, a shadow of the commander she had glimpsed at the rail, directing the attack on the flame drake. He is hunched against the boat-house, cloaked draped about him, looking like an old man trying to escape a chilling rain. His face is downcast, not looking up even when he surely hears Rudabeh's clattering arrival.
Behind him Draze stands, as if in attendance. His eyes meet Rudabeh's, revealing worry and concern, but the older man says nothing.
Slowly, at Rudabeh's words the elf says, voice low, "Drake? Not a dragon? "
Rudabeh stands by impassively as the massive human looks over the railing, her high-crested helmet catching the light of the lanterns and torches that had been light and casting it about as if it were grains of sand in a wave. The words of The Bard seem to know few boundaries, be they national, geographical, or planar, and she wonders if even Teken knows where the words of bandit originate.
Indeed. She thinks back, unwilling to press the ifrit further, but happy he said something at least.
The gloom of the hold has no mystery to Rudabeh, and her darkvision sees every corner, cobweb, and pile of dust that even Ostend's well-ordered crew had missed. It was easy for her to see Ractus' sad form as well, and the undine feels an anchor chain to her heart and start to slowly drag it down at the sight of him. I thought he was getting better. I suppose it's going to take more than that to bring him back. She thinks to no one in particular, but she certainly wasn't shielding her thoughts from the soul inside of her armor.
Just as Ractus speaks the paladin lifts a hand to her shoulder, and a wave of bright white light briefly shines in the hold as positive energy knits up the sword wound beneath her platemail.
"I too thought it was a dragon." She begins as her hand falls away. "But Teken is certain it was a "flame drake". He said they are the stunted cousins of true dragons. They usually work in pairs, have nasty attitudes, and a limited intelligence. I can understand if our lights attracted it, but why was it here in the first place?" Rudabeh wonders aloud, unsure where such a creature had spawned.
The hold creaks unevenly as the barge picks up speed slightly, falling into the main channel of the river. Damp wood grinding on damp wood, shifting with the easy movement of experience. Rudabeh sees no leaks however, not even the small usual ones that usually crop up on every vessel over time. Clearly, Ostend runs a tight ship, in a literal sense.
Around them some mercenaries return, hoping to catch at least part of the night's sleep. They give the trio a wide berth however, obviously not wanting to interrupt. Rudabeh hopes that is out of respect and not a frosty quarantine. Who knows what lies Ten-Fingers and Thom managed to spread before being left behind?
With a quick sigh she heals some of her wounds, flesh weaving back together. Another day, and another injury.
Ractus doesn't look up, staring down at the sodden planks of his feet. Instead Draze speaks up, his voice the low painful rasp it always was, sounding downright macabre in the dim hold.
"Maybe it came at the same time? Was not the smith in Pitax from the Plane of Fire? What method brought him here? Perhaps the drake took the same path."
Rudabeh pushes Ten-fingers out of her mind. With luck, she would never have to think about or deal with the thieving woman again, but given the fact the human seemed to be a source of chaos the day may come where she would have to be dealt with.
There was an entire River Kingdoms full of bandits and thieves to deal with first, though.
As Draze speaks she has difficulty looking away from Ractus, lingering on him for a few seconds longer than needed before turning to focus her good eye on Draze. From a distance the man's voice would make it sound as if they were putting Ractus out to sea, too.
There is a shifting on the undine's face at Draze's words, as if she knows what he's talking about but doesn't quite believe it. "Gezzerbial was brought here by a deal Irovetti made with a magma dragon on the Plane of Fire. He didn't mention a flame drake when he told me about the mirror... and he was only supposed to keep Gezzerbial for a short period of time and then return him. We can presume the same deal would have to apply to the drake. When Nubuach freed Gezzerbial he made it seem as if Gezzerbial had been killed, and I told Irovetti as such. I could not condone him lying to the dragon about it, so if he told the dragon I freed Gezzerbial..." Her cerulean features pinch together briefly as she considers the mirror and the fact it is two-way. If a flame drake came through the mirror, he had to have allowed it, and...
Rudabeh shakes her head slowly. "No, Irovetti wouldn't send a flame drake after me or let the dragon do it. I saved his life, and without me he cannot be appointed to a position in the Pact of Years." She reaons, though it seemed shaky reasoning to all present. Had the shock passed and Irovetti resented her for uspuring him?
She lets out a sighs, which is followed by a small frown. "I will ask him about it when we see him next. Maybe he lost that drake when Gezzerbial was summoned, like you suggested, Draze."
With a look to Ractus, Rudabeh reaches out a gauntleted hand a grabs Ractus' shoulder. "You were instrumental in chasing down the drake, I couldn't have brought it down myself. Undines are not known for their graceful flying." She jokes briefly before nodding to the elf and saying sincerely: "Thank you."
Her hand moves from his scarred shoulder to the bridge of her nose, which she rubs briefly. "I should take stock of the items we siezed from the bandits before someone else tries to run off with them, if you can point me towards the company Quartermaster... I am sure you heard by now that I threatened Ten-Fingers and Black Thom to not step foot back on this barge. They were pinching items from the merchant and had planned to do so since we spotted the warning signal." Her hand drops, revealing a disgusted look on her face. "I will not tolerate thieves in our midst, and they are fortunate they did not test my declaration."
Draze shrugs when Rudabeh decides the flake drake probably wasn't Irovetti's direct fault, although it did seem likely the two were linked. How many outlets did the Plane of Fire really have int he River Kingdoms? It seemed beyond plausibility the drake and Gezzerbial were unrelated incidents. Something was going on, and Irovetti was likely to be at the bottom of it, either on purpose or not.
Ractus does look up when Rudabeh places an armored hand on his shoulder. By chance it is the one missing an arm, and even through cold steel and leather, the undine can feel missing muscles and tendons. It is like a statue with bits of marble chipped away, still elegant and recognizable but missing critical parts.
His face is ragged, like a man who hasn't slept in days. "There was a time when I could have done more then shout orders. When I could have been at the front of the line with you." before Rudabeh can say anything he shakes his head and adds, "Please, spare me the lecture on the importance of good leadership and the value of wise commanders who stay behind the lines."
"As for a quartermaster, we still lack one. Draze has been doing some of the work so far."
"I heard you let Ten-Fingers and Black Thom go." the elf's voice is neutral but Rudabeh thinks she can detect displeasure behind it. "Your choice but I think expecting paladin's will leave us with a small Company." The sitting man sighs, painfully, then drops his gaze, "But I am sure you did what was right."
Draze looks disapproving at these last words, as if having hoped for stronger words from the mercenary Captain.
Rudabeh tries to cast the gauche shadow of Irovetti, which she imagined to be some shade of brown-purple similar to the many bruises covering her right side, out of her mind. But it there it lurked, distracting her as it waited further contemplation.
She doesn't seem like she was about to give a lecture, but she looks sheepishly at the floor for a moment when Ractus mentions it will be a small company, given her profession. "There is a reason I worked alone for over a decade after a I took my oaths." Is said solemnly befre she looks back up, though Ractus was staring at the floorboards. "I don't expect others to live by my code, but as a paragon of Alseta I am bound to enforce it. If I did nothing about Ten-Fingers and Black Thom's thieving I would risk allowing chaos to spread and be stripped of my divine connection."
"Yet, it was a Company issue, not one of the Pact, and I should have left it to you." She admits, now seeing that in hindsight, she had taken too much control away from Ractus. "Even if what I did was right, I am not sure it was my place to decide, and I apologize for not asking you first. Sometimes I see a problem and try to correct it as quickly as possible without thinking of the ramifications, but..."
"I had a chance to shoot that flame drake in the throat as it flew away. Before Pitax, when I was by myself, I would have done it without immediately without thinking. It would have crashed onto the deck of Ostend's barge, probably landing on someone at worst, and its mate would have come and attacked us for revenge." Her head turns a little as she imagines those events transpiring, a very minor version compared to what happened when she sentenced Dravos to death at the Pitaxian tournement. "But I thought ahead this time. I stayed my hand. I don't know if it was the right decision in the long term, but if I am going to work with you I need to start thinking about the people around me."
Rudabeh draws in a breath before continuing. "Some of us choose to change, and others have change thrust upon them. I chose to change, but you did not have that luxury leaving Pitax. You were Ractus Redfist once, isn't that what Skard said? I don't know who that is, but by his reaction, you must have changed... and you can do it again, into whatever you want to be."
The paladin kneels down to be at eye level with the crippled elf, her plate creaking as the joints slide against one another. "You can choose to take back that name, or take up another, but the person you are acting like now isn't Ractus. The person I saw commanding the archers up top was Ractus, and if I have to train with you every day until I see you punch a bandit so hard their friends soil themselves and run, I will do it, because this is not the end of Ractus." Rudabeh didn't really intend to go into a speech, but it just kind of slipped out.. she was, after all, sworn to help people through transitions, and Ractus needed the most help of anyone.
She starts to stand back up, making even more noise than before. "I am going to ask Ostend tomorrow if we can run some drills. After the flame drake attack he may be more apt to have a fit mercenary force on board. You and I need to get some exercise so we can figure out how all our pieces got stitched back together." It was a bit of a joke, but she had to get the elf active again, for his own sake. Though the thought causes her to pause for a moment.
"Hiram never did say what he did with my eye..." Her hand lifts to touch her (stylish) Alseta eyepatch. "He didn't give it to you, did he?" She cranes her head a little to make sure the purple orbs were still the same ones she remembered on the elf, in jest.
Ractus doesn't react when Rudabeh mentions that perhaps she stepped over her bounds in directly firing Ten-Fingers and Black Thom. Thinking back to her experience, Rudabeh knows most Company patrons would do the same but have the Captain do the actual act. Discipline, be it corporal or otherwise, was usually given to the commander (although who got what was often heavily influenced by the patron). Indeed, usually patrons weighed against harsh punishments, often considering the rules of war an inconvenience and advocating harsh violence. In fact, this is the first time she can recall a patron asking for a stricter punishment for soldiers.
'The Law is the law. If you do not want looting, then you must punish them.' Teken says firmly in her head. Clearly his desired silent treatment is at odds with his need to interject his own morals into Rudabeh's life.
When Rudabeh mentions the name Skard used for the elf, Ractus looks up. Rudabeh also notes Draze's face shift slightly, and the older man turns away.
"Do we ever change, really?" Ractus says, voice hollow. "Or do we merely add another layer of paint over the rust? Doesn't our past lie behind us, just under the surface, ready to burst out when times are hard?"
His voice grows stronger as he goes on, purple eyes locked onto Rudabeh's.
"Skard spoke true, I once bore the name Redfist. Years ago, before any of you were born." A pause and then, "Except maybe yourself, I hear undine are a long-lived race, in comparison. In any case, I was hired in Artume. I headed a Company then, a real one which I had been commanding for years. Men and women I knew well, lived with and fought with. A tie that bound us together." For some reason he seems intent to emphasize this, his connection. Rudabeh didn't no underlining, she knew the links that grew between mercenaries. Hadn't she herself been bound to Finn for all those years (and in some ways, still)?
"It was a petty affair, the job. A local aristocrat refused to pay his taxes or some other obligation. Holed up in a stone tower and refused to come out. We were ordered to bring him to heel." His eyes grew hazy, obviously traveling back decades.
"It was a strong keep, for the River Kingdoms. A full stone motte-and-bailey, on a raised mound of earth. The local had had time to prepare so the land had been cleared, a new palisade put up...A real tough nut to crack. If we would have stormed it, dozens might have been killed, just on our side."
"One of my men had another idea. He had lived in the area and knew the aristocrat in the castle had family in a neighboring city. We went there, in the dead of night, raided the manor and kidnapped anyone who looked wealthy. Dragged them back to the castle and issued an ultimatum. Either he open the gates or I'd kill my hostages."
For the first time, Ractus's voice wavered."He refused."
"He refused. So, that next dawn, I took a bound and gagged woman, I didn't even know her name, to the front lines. I removed the gag and forced her to shout her name to the men on the walls. She begged for mercy, pleading that we let her live, she had children...."
Ractus, voice hard now went on, "I strangled her, in full view of man and the Gods. And still the gates did not open."
"I killed a hostage every morning for a week. A bloody ritual that accompanied the sun. Blood on my hands, and another corpse. Then word arrived from our patron, announcing 'political realities had changed' and ended the conflict." The elf's face twisted.
"I found out later the hostages had been some petty mistress of another noble. My man had been wrong but no one knew. They had died for nothing. I had killed them all, for nothing."
Ractus held up a hand, as if examining it. "Blood for nothing."
"So perhaps an end to Ractus would be good for the world. Who needs a red-handed murderer." Yet, even as he says this he looks to Rudabeh, a plea in his eyes. And she knows what he is thinking of. The dream, the message sent from Gorum. A purpose....a purpose given when all seemed lost. Was that cruelty or hope? Did the Lord in Iron care?
When she mentions training, Ractus laughs bitterly, "Train? Missing an arm and barely able to walk up a flight of stairs? Don't make me laugh, Rudabeh, I'm not in the mood for jokes."
Then, to the undine surprise Draze breaks in, "Why not? Don't you remember old Josteen. He was missing a leg, and he trained every day. Good too, even with the peg-leg."
The elf waved his hand at the older man, "He was a monk, they are supposed to be weird." But his words sound more like petulance then depression. Progress?
Rudabeh is glad Teken is back to talking to her, even if it was to lecture her. She agreed with him anyway, so a simple Indeed. Was sufficient to acknowledge they were both on board.
Her head turns as Draze seems to shirk from the name Redfist, and the paladin wonders what she has just gotten herself into. A small frown crosses her features as Ractus asks if they ever really change, but she bites her aquamarine tongue for now to avoid going on a sermon about the importance of change and how they all experience it in their lives.
The small frown does not change as Ractus tells his story of murder and regret. "If that's the case we are both murderers." Rudabeh says immediately after the elf finishes speaking, and she sighs heavily. "We are both killers, Ractus. Even as I serve a goddess that prizes peace and diplomacy, I am her sword. The last, but often useful, resort in a violent world. How many did I kill in the rebellion of Pitax, directly or indirectly? What name would they have given me if the rebellion had failed and Irovetti hanged me in the courtyard of the First Palace?"
Her gaze shifts, not to decades past like Ractus, but litterally the last week- it was so fresh she could still see it, smell the memory. "It goes even further. As Irovetti's soldiers sought to capture me, I saw them sacking the Church of Alseta. I had to defend it, or how could I call myself a paladin of my Lady? I was up against ten soldiers, so I lured out a lad with a ruse, no more than a boy, and ran him through with no chance to defend himself in an effort to even the fight just a little. I could have turned myself in, I could have fought them all at once, but in my duress I murdered him for my own benefit." Her expression changes as she speaks, clearly disturbed by her own actions. It was a rare moment for anyone that spent any time around a paladin- Rudabeh, a beacon of courage, confidence, and self-righteousness stood doubting herself and her actions. "His name was Kern, and sometimes I see his face in my dreams, hear the crying of his mother, just like the rest of the souls I've sent to the Boneyard. They rallied around him, before they ignored my warning to leave the church." The rest of the story was untold, and the rest of the tale of flames and judgement would have to wait.
"We mortals cannot change the past." She concludes, limpid eye shifting back to Ractus, and it was clear there was no judgement in her eyes. "We both did our sworn duties. We both protected those we considered our family, and the gods force us to live with our actions in the present." Her right hand extends to the crippled elf then, the shining silversheen smudged by blood and soot. "But we can change the future. The age of prophecy is dead, Ractus, and even if we are all heading towards some god-given destiny, it is up to us to decide how we get there."
She pushes her hand forward again if he has not taken it yet, the blood glistening in the torchlight. "Come on. I could use both your help on deck with the loot, and convincing Ostend we need to run drills."
Ractus's eyes do not drop as Rudabeh speaks and his head does not sink back down into gloom and shadow. Instead the elf holes Rudabeh's gaze, weighing her words, thoughts evident behind his bright eyes. What was going on there, in a mind old beyond her count, was not clear but surely something better then the dark nightmares that seemed to be haunting him moments ago. Draze remains silent, cloaked in darkness.
Then, without warning, Ractus slams his hand into Rudabeh's out thrust gauntlet, making a ringing sound that reminds the undine of good steel being worked in the blacksmithy. With effort Ractus hauls himself to his feet, clearly needing Rudabeh's arm and strength to execute the move.
He stands for a moment then says, a glimmer of a wry smile, "Very well. Let us plan how you shall make a fool of me in front of the Company. Maybe it can convince you to choose another Captian." Under the jib, Rudabeh can hear the real fear. This elf, so long a paragon of his profession (indeed, chosen as natural leader in the chaos of Pitax) was worried what the others would say. How could she prevent the laughter or titters from the others when they saw hims tumbling during sparring? Could Ractus, or the Company, withstand that?
Clearly it was up to Rudabeh.
They find the barge deck less crowded then before. Many of the mercenaries are trying to catch a few last snatches of sleep before the sun rises but that time is not far off. Indeed, on the eastern sky, a tiny halo of light gray is forming of the horizon. It is still some time off, but dawn is coming and a new day.
Shunted into a corner are the wounded bandits. Rudabeh's heart twists slightly when she sees one has died in the interim, a man she might have been able to save (or perhaps not). Apart from them Silvui lies under a blanket, asleep, with Litta standing vigil over him, face unreadable.
In a separate pile stand the small pile of loot, which honestly isn't very impressive. This is no dragon's hoard, to say the least.
Ostend comes over, looking tired, "A long night Rudabeh. Is it going to be like this every night with you aboard?" his tone is light, but with a cutting edge. The undine gets the sense this is a man who likes his sleep on a fixed schedule. He glances at Ractus and nods, "Good to see you up and about. Was worried with your condition..."
The half-elf trails off at Ractus's look and instead turns back to Rudabeh, "I heard we left some mercenaries behind?"
Rudabeh has to brace herself as Ractus suddenly grabs her hand and begins to pull himself up. Even if he was missing one of his beefy arms, the elf was still large. Though she does not strain, the undine has to concentrate as he is hauled to his feet. A smile has appeared on her lips as he finally becomes upright, and she clasps his hand tightly. "Or perhaps I will be convinced you were the right Captain all along."
They move with all the speed and alcrity of a marching band onto deck, and Rudabeh probably got more than a few dirty looks from sleeping mercenaries as she clangs up the ladder and onto deck. Ractus moved slow, but she did not mind and always had a helping hand ready.
Her eyes sweep over the former bandits, and she notes the huddled group and their long faces, as well as the unmoving and prostrate body they have set off to the side. Rudabeh knew she could not save everyone, her resources were limited, and she was oath-bound to prioritize those she was close to first. but it still hurt- that man probably had a family somewhere. She would see to them soon.
The low light of dawn starts to bring some color into her darkvision as she stands over the small pile of loot. Fortunately they weren't bandits, or else this would not even be worthy of celebration.
Rudabeh is staring at the sad pile when Ostend approaches, and she turns her entire body around to face him in a sign of respect. "I apologize, Ostend. Trouble usually does not follow me, and I hope I do not make a habit of it." As she speaks the paladin reaches for her belt and unloops a small jute bag from her waist before presenting it to the barge captain. "Fifteen gold pieces. It's not much, but I convinced the Captain of the other ship you deserved to be rewarded for rescuing his vessel. It was your decision that saved them, after all."
There is a small shake of her head and a creasing of her cerulean features when Ostend asks about the mercenaries they let go. "A pair of thieves that I caught going through the other ship's cargo after the bandits surrendered. I told them I would take their hands if they stepped foot back on your vessel. You may want to check your stores, they could have taken from there too." The paladin cautions, still upset that Ten-fingers and Black Thom had so brazenly defied the rules she set forth to enrich themselves.
With a sigh and a wave of her hand, she puts them upriver and out of her mind. "We wanted to speak to you about our readiness as a company. This group is newly formed, it does not even have a name, and we were sorely lacking in discipline during the bandits and the flame drake attack. We don't know if the drake will be back, or if it will return with its mate, but it would behoove us to be ready if it does. May I have your permission to run some exercises above deck during the daylight hours?" Rudabeh knew it was a poor time to ask this (Ostend seemed crabby), but she needed to get it out of the way and plan for later.
"It does not have to be full contact sparring... I don't want to scuff up your deck... we merely need the space to hold some exercises, drills, and competitions so we can be more organized should another threat appear. I will pay for any damages incurred by accidents." She states in a way that indicates she was open to compromise; there was not a lot of hope that the anal river Captain would agree, but she was making her case nonetheless.
"A paladin that trouble does not follow?" Ostend says weirdly and adds, "It is probably true, I suspect you head for it."
But he accepts the coin and says, voice somewhat mollified, "Forgive me, the hour is late and I am curt. I do not begrudge helping those sailors and freeing this stretch of river from bandits. Such robbers are a natural part of the land, but not pleasant ones. We are better off without them."
The half-elf does look surprised when she mentions having 'relieved' two mercenaries for the rather minor crime of stealing. Even in other countries a bit of pillage is understood but in the River Kingdoms? It was literally the law of the land. But then he nods, seeing what she meant. It was not about the items themselves, but about disobeying a command. Stealing a few coppers was one thing but what if the next order they chose not to follow meant people died? Rudabeh had a feeling such orders were also given on boats as well as battle.
Maybe that was why Rudabeh usually got a long so well with river pilots and sea captains, they both had the same outlook.
Or maybe it was because she looked like a fish.
In the east the sky slowly grows more gray, a distant gossamer haze. Around the river a few birds start to wake up, the opening bars of the soon to be dawn chorus. The sky seems clear overhead, promising a day free of rain or shade. Summer is coming.
Ostend sighs and says, "I will agree to some training, but nothing outrageous. No unit formations or marching practice. The deck simply isn't built for that sort of thing."
A moment and then he nods, "If that is all, I'd like to catch a bit of sleep before the morning bell. "
Rudabeh looks at Ostend strangely after his comment before she comes to the realization that he is not wrong on both accounts. After a decade of travel she had been used to leaving loose ends or unsolved problems behind and rarely had any matters follow her around. Maybe that had changed. A lot had changed in the past week.
There is a small bow of her head in response to his apology about being curt- she was tired too, on top of her injuries, and understood completely. Her head carried a dull fatigue from interrupted sleep, but the throbbing of the sword wound on her shoulder was enough of a distraction to keep her awake and going. Her whole body was a series of aches and pains, both from being magically and mundanely reconstructed the day before as well as a plethora o buises and pulled muscles as she gets used to twenty more pounds of armor distributed about her body.
"Indeed. I hope this will make the river a little safer now, but until Pitax stabilizes and the river is regularlly patrolled again, I suspect this will be the beginning in an upsurge of banditry." Rudabeh knew first hand how many deserters there were from Irovetti's army- she had seen at least four times this number fleeing from the battle atop the barricaded streets alone.
As Rudabeh's head turns to the east and the first flickers of dawn reach her clear eye, a small smile touches her lips when Ostend agrees to some training. "Thank you. Worry not, I am no fan of the outrageous." Said the one-eyed cerulean blue undine completely armored in head-to-toe that was found of carrying a sword nearly as tall as she. "Everyone deserves a rest after that encounter on the river, so drills will not be until later. Please sleep well." Is her parting words to the captain, along with a small bow of her head.
As the half-elf goes, Rudabeh turns her head to the full-elf at her side, the layers of plates protecting her neck and melding into the coif of her helmet moving with graceful sliding. "I thought I'd have to ask you to extole the virtues of several lifetimes of arms practice to convince him, but he must have been either sufficiently impressed with us chasing off the drake, or afraid another may appear." The last comment seemed like she, too, was wary of such an event. "We can start drills in the afternoon, once everyone is rested."
There was, unfortunately, no rest of the paladin, and she would be working through sun-up. Her shining armor had a few new dents and the entire front was blackened where the drake's fireball had sorched the surface, her gauntlets were bloody, and her sword had taken a burr near the tip after she stabbed it into a former bandit leader's spine. She also still needed to pray, but before all that...
Her attention turns with the motion of her entire body, and she looks to the huddled, defeated bandits, and a look of pity crosses her face. "May I ask you and Draze take stock of our spoils while I tend to the survivors? I will return momentarily."
The paladin approaches the unmoving body of one of the fallen bandits, kneeling slowly and bowing the crested top of her helmet along with her head. A prayer, the same she administered to all of the falen bandits, is given before she reaches out to scoop the limp man into her arms, hefting him in a smooth motion and tossing him over the gunwale in a great display of strength.
Her leather-bound fingers find the sides of the boat , looking out into the dark, rippling waters as she begins to speak. "Choose two among you that are the most injuried." She says suddenly, turning towards the broken men. "That is all the power I have left to heal today."
As they bring forth the two that were selected, she places a hand upon their head, sending Alseta's mercy coursing through their bodies. "We will let you off at the next dock. It may be Touvette, or sooner, but I will not send out into the world penniless. I will give you each enough silver for room and food for at least two days so you may secure work." It was a strange mercy, but Rudabeh firmly believed that taking everything they had and kicking them off the ship would just cause them to resort to thuggery or stealing. She was sworn to reduce the amount of chaos in the world, not be directly responsible for it.
"Or maybe he would agree to anything to find his bed." Ractus says, watching the nimble half-elf vanish into the dark hold. "He might not be so agreeable tomorrow morning when actually confronted with drills."
"Speaking of which, what did you have in mind for the particular method of my humiliation?" The elf adds, talking about the personal sparring between Rudabeh and himself. Clearly the man is still nervous about it.
When Rudabeh suggest they look at the loot, both men nod and head toward the small pile of ill-gotten gains. At the very least she doubts either of them will pocket things for themselves.
The defeated bandits are a sad and sorry sight. They are dirty, injured and in some cases still soaking wet. Clearly the mercenaries and sailors are little mercy for thieves, and had done little to comfort them. Then again, Rudabeh hadn't done much either. Their clothes, while still generally in one piece, had a grimy look that spoke of days of wear between washes or repairs. Most of the men were lice ridden, with heavy bags under the eyes.
At her words two are brought forward, emerging from the amorphous mass like an offering from a frightened congregation. One is a youthful boy of no more then sixteen years, burned rather badly on his back and side. He doesn't say anything but merely shivers. The other is an older man in the uniform of Irovetti's enforcers. Indeed, Rudabeh thinks she recognizes him from her battle on the burning barricade. His injuries are a series of stabs wound along his legs and waist, growing infected already.
Rudabeh heals them both, doing what she can. Her spells are not as potent as they can be, and she wonders if even the Welcomer shies away from aiding such agents of Chaos. Still, at the least, they are not longer bleeding on Ostend's deck.
The paladin is turning away from the sorry band when she spots someone else step forward. It is the looming giant who gave the eulogy when she buried the dead. Rudabeh can see him better now, close up. Unlike the rest of the bandits, he doesn't seem to be such a pathetic figure. His clothes are worn but patched and repaired, cleaned as best as the wild allows. His dark hair, which covers most of his face in a lion's mane is washed and free of lice. A very old horn lies at his belt, yellowed ivory, inlaid with tarnished silver looped in exotic designs.
The dark skin, the straight dark hair, the tiny totem hanging around his neck....all says one thing to Rudabeh. Kellid, the ancestral people to much of this section of Golarion. While they had never founded any kingdoms in the River Lands, Kellid tribes wandered her for millennia before other people's arrived.
Looking nearly face to face with Rudabeh he casts his eyes downward respectfully and says, "Are you looking for recruits?" His voice is low, mournful and yet with the trained melodiousness the undine usually associated with trained bards and performers.
"Nothing too strenuous." Rudabeh replies, as if implying she were worried about Ractus' condition, before she smiles and points at the floorboards beneath them. "I have to worry about the deck." Her pointing finger turns into a wave as she moves off. "Just some individual drills and a padded spar with myself."
The bandits come to her as a wave comes from the surf- one moment it was a congruent mass of sad and dirty faces, and the next there were two crests of hair before her. She does not shy away from the lice as she lays her hand upon the young man's head, and indeed, many of the bugs shrivel and die as the white light pours from her palm. There is no happy reunion between herself and the older soldier, but she does come to understand these were men forced into this circumstance, as many bandits were.
Perhaps she shouldn't be so hard on them; but the lack of effectiveness from her healing makes her pause. Did her Goddess have different ideas?
When she is stopped by the deep base voice of the large man, the undine turns to look him over. While a Kellid is an uncommon sight in the River Kingdoms this far north, it was stranger to see him without any others of his kind. She wondered if he were an exile, or like her, and merely sought his own path- he seemed musically inclined, and part of her wondered if this was one of the north's Skalds that traveled to tell stories. Any story of how he came to run with a group of Pitax's old guard would have to wait for another day, as Rudabeh merely nods slowly and says. "I will consider it, but know this is not a typical mercenary company. I aim to have these men and women working directly with the Pact of Years, and everyone will be expected to exemplify its virtues."
It was fairly clear their previous dabbling in banditry had put a mark against them in her eye, but as she realized before, many of them were forced into these circumstances by her own actions in Pitax. "We will be running drills later in the day. Any interested in joining the company may spar against me, and I will test your mettle. I will approach you all tomorrow with the offer." She casts her trained eye over them before turning and leaving the most important piece unsaid; the paladin would be judging their merits of discipline more than the skill or strength of their arm.
The hulking man nods and says, "I suspect little you do is typical. Offering silver to prisoners? Your shadow is a lengthy one..." The Kellid steps back, feet loud on the wooden deck. He isn't clumsy, but there is little grace in his movements.
A murmur goes through the bedraggled group at Rudabeh's words. Clearly her offer will have a few takers, even if only from those looking for three square meals a day and a steady pay check. Banditry was an easy trade to take up, but this day of all days, shown the dangers of such a profession even in the River Kingdoms. Others however, simply shrugged, pondering the good fortune at actually being paid to be captured. Few bandits get such mercy when things go badly.
Rudabeh finds Silvui fast asleep, the agile Varsiaian bundled up in a few cloaks. Litta still watches over him, the archer's green eyes fixed on the distant gray of morning. When Rudabeh clatters over she stands, face a mask.
"Thank you." She says, voice low, "For saving him. I saw how things might have gone but you didn't....you didn't take him for granted. I won't forget that."
Rudabeh's quick eyes note, tucked deep in the folds of Litta's cloak, a small holy symbol. It is on a short chain, clearly kept out of sight for some reason, but the woman had probably had it out when tending to Silvui. The paladin knew all too well the comfort of such things in times of need. The undine doesn't recognize it instantly however. A chain?
One thing is for sure, it isn't Alseta or Hanspur. Maybe one of the gods of the Inner Sea, one that Rudabeh did not know?
Litta goes on, "I will take care of him, I have some healing training. Growing up in the Fells, you have to."
Draze and Ractus are still picking through the loot when Rudabeh finds them.
Draze, voice a smoky rasp speaks first, "A sad trove, Rudabeh. Good thing we aren't living off loot. Maybe fifty gold here, all told, between the silver, the few bits of jewelry and the battered weapons. Nothing arcane or divine."
"They had only been in business for a few days, looks like." Ractus adds, the elf shrugging, "A few long timers in the group, but not much spoils. Might have been more before Ten-Fingers had her way with it. I suspect any magical items are in her pockets now."
You should have searched her and taken back what was rightfully yours. Teken says in her mind.
Oblivious to this 'advice', Draze goes on, "How do you want to share it out? Bonus to the Company? A share to Ostend? Keep it in reserve in the Company books? If we had books, that is."
=====
Dawn proper finds Rudabeh at the flat prow of the barge, sitting in the morning rays. They felt warm on her green skin, chasing off the nighttime chills and helping loosen the endless knots and kinks that came with wearing full armor for a entire day. Still, it would take more then an hour's rest and some sunshine to fix the damage to her battered body. Magical healing fixed damage but it never quite removed the...strain. Hells, she was still carrying bruises and pulled muscles from that night on the barricade let alone falling off a castle wall and being half-burned to death. She needed a few nights in a good tavern. Some ale, some songs, a few hot baths, maybe even a massage or three. What she hadn't needed was a night without sleep and a battle with a fire breathing drake.
Next to her, winking in that same morning sun, is her armor. It is much cleaner then it had been, after an hour of studious work and cleaning. Straps tightened, small burrs filed off, and stains scrubbed clean. It wasn't early as gleaming as when Gezzerbial had handed it over, but it was a sight better then the scorched and stained wreck it had been. To her surprise, the silversheen polished easily with stains and marks wiping clear after little effort. Rudabeh had been worried the pristine finish would be impossible to keep up in the field. Clearly the salamander had known what he was doing.
Teken was quiet of course, as he had been at the very first stages of the armor cleaning. The former ifrit hadn't been crazy about 'being put on the shelf' but he understood. Damaged armor was useless armor, and dirty quickly led to damage. Finn, although not one to wear full plate, had drilled that into her at a tender age. Only the worst sort of fighter let their weapons or armor go without care, for a good soldier knew the moment you took them for granted, that was the moment they would fail. And failing usually meant a very sharp bit of steel inside your body and a visit to the Gray Lady.
Farther away the rest of the Company is coming back to life. A few mercenaries have already come up on deck, blinking in the dim sunlight. A few attempts at cook-fires are quickly put out by red-eyed night sailors, gesturing to keep open flames off the wooden deck. The smarter ones back their way to the grimy galley amidships, to see what they can make of the disaster. So far, Rudabeh smells nothing from the fitful smoke.
A bell rings, and the sailors begin changing shifts. Ostend appears on deck, clothes as trim as ever. Whatever his complaints about last night, he looks rested this morning. His step is firm and light as she inspects his ship, asking sailors how the last few hours went. He also spares a few hard glances at the black stains on the deck from the barely started cookfires. He stares even harder at the gathered bandits, still clustered near a side rail. Judging from the stern glance and the tightening grip, Rudabeh gets the feeling their latest guests are outstaying the half-elf's welcome.
Still, a new morning and a new day. Always something to celebrate.
For the first time in many a month, Rose Headstrong comes to mind. Something the halfling had said once, to greet a bright morning.
The morn is up again, the dewy morn,
With breath all incense, and with cheek all bloom,
Laughing the clouds away with playful scorn,
And living as if earth contained no tomb,—
And glowing into day.
Rudabeh guffaws at the big man's words- or starts to, until the inflamed lining of her lungs sends a shockwave of pain through her chest that turns into a wretched cough. Mastering herself quickly, she nods before moving away. "I try to open doors, rather than close them."
Standing over Silvui, she looks at his huddled form with envy and relief. When was the last time she got to sleep so deeply? She knew she swore an oath to put duty before comfort, but sometimes it just seemed unfair. The paladin's internal grumblings are interrupted when she spots the chain hidden in Litta's cloak.
The paladin kneels slowly to be next to her, her armored knee clacking softly as it connects with the deck. "Of course. He is a brave man and an excellent blade." A small grin flashes across her azure lips. "I just hope he learned to listen to orders today." Rudabeh's tone of voice changes and lowers, while her face shifts to an unjuding, neutral expression. She was in confession mode. "I am glad to know you have healing training. I do not, and rely on my goddess' mercy to provide healing. Are you also blesssed? I see you have a holy symbol." A finger half encased in thick metal points into the confines of her cloak, and Rudabeh knew there must be a reason Litta was not open about her faith.
The loot causes Rudabeh to shift on her feet in thought. It wasn't great, and even her carefully hoarded reserves of money from the past decade were starting to run low. Perhaps you are right. I don't know how she stole so much even after I was watching her. Is her reply to Tekken. It's what she got for trying to leave as quickly as possible in case the drake came back- nothing.
"Ostend was already paid." Is her first declaration, followed by- "I said everyone that participated could have a share of the loot. So it will go out as a bonus." A shrug follows, one that makes her wince slightly from the wound on her shoulder. "And some of the bandits may earn their gear back." She looks to Ractus to see how he will take the idea. "They asked if we are recruiting, and I told them they can spar with me tomorrow to see if they're worth a spot in the company. Indirectly, I caused most of them to turn to banditry. I should at least bear responsibility and give the ones that can follow orders and swing a sword a job. Is that all right with you?"
Ractus probably already knew that many of them would not make the cut, given the paladin's discerning eye and stringent code, so there would be few joining anyway. "We don't have books?" She asks Draze with mild confusion. "I thought we had a company book. I signed it. Do you mean we don't have any accounting?" This clearly bothered the orderly woman, and she sighs. "Though, we don't even have a name. We should rectify all this in Volouse."
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Sitting on the prow of the ship, Rudabeh polishes up the outside of her helmet with a cloth. The soot and smudges come off easily underneath the circular motions of her scarred fingers, and in the morning sun it was apparent to all how her right side was still a sickly and dry green while the left was covered in bright, healthy, and glistening turquoise skin that shone in the same way the river did. Indeed, unarmored the undine looked like two different people, depending on how you looked at her. One side was battered and sick, with half her hair missing and a fin-like ear burned down to an inch long stub, while the other was the epitome of vitality of her species.
Another dichotomy to add to the many contradictions in this Paladin of Alseta's life.
She looks over her shoulder as Ostend seems to silently regret ever taking them on, and sighs. Lifting up the left pauldron of her armor to check if she managed to bend the dent back out with her pliers, Rudabeh catches sight of her own tired face in the mirror-like silversheen, and then is immediately blinded by the rising sun. Though she recoils and squints, a poem flits through her mind, and the kindly face of her tutor replaces the image of the haggard undine from moments before.
Rudabeh stops to stare at the floorboards for a moment, reflecting on the fuzzy memories of her nanny and tutor from long ago. Glowing into day. She always did that. How did she always do that?
Picking herself off of the deck with a grunt, she looks at the pile of now brilliantly shining armor and wishes she could put it on herself, but there was just too much. There was a prayer in The Sacred Keystones that allowed paladins to gird themselves instantly in their armor for emergencies, but she had instead asked Alseta for power to protect them from another flame drake, and to open doors towards a better life for the captured bandits. Inconvenience about how quickly she could get dressed was not something she wanted to bother her goddess about.
Turning slowly to find someone to help her into her armor, Rudabeh walks with a loping step that would be more suited for a sea vessel, and then begins bothering the mercenaries to gather up their practice weapons for drills.