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Abigail listens to Silas speak and muses silently on the idea that he's become perhaps too afraid now that he's seen real violence. Her hand won't stop shaking, but, he's a coward. You don't have anything to lose because everyone else gives you everything. She glares for a moment but then relents, her own self-resentment screwing her anger up and breaking it.
Turning to Hugo as he lifted the head, she covered her mouth and a look of sickness crossed her face. "One is enough," she hissed, walking to him and looking at the headless corpse. "Hugo, why would you do that?" Her tone is more worried than angry, but still, some spills in. It's hard. She turns away from him and finds a place to sift through the things in the pile.
The simple serving girl felt like her heart was full of hatred. It made her sick.
Abigail silently sifts through the things left behind, on her knees in the muck. After a few moments, she holds a dead look on her face.
How dare they run.
Abigail dug under the tree for a moment before unearthing the leather pouch. She stared at it for a moment before opening it and sifting the contents inside with her fingers, staring in wonder.
Standing up, she looked to the others. She tosses the bag to Keel, a look in her eye. "There's a lot of gold in there," she says to him, passing the responsibility along-- and hardly resisting the urge to simply pocket it or throw it into the swamp. How dare you turn your eye on me now, she felt. This wasn't luck. It was pity. She then turns her gaze back to the ground, searching.
"Excuse me-- everyone? No one saw any tracks-- children?-- here? Where did they go?"
Hugo looked from Abi to the head, and back again. his mind stumbled over itself in an attempt to peice together why she didnt approve. It was a good idea after all...wasnt it? As she turned away, he lowered his trophy, a puzzled look on his face. He started to reach for her, as if to stop her so he could explain himself, but stopped. Instead he reached the hand to his own head, scratching his neck, a look of guilt and embarrasment on his face, like a boy who has been caught stealing apples.
Letting the head dump on the ground next to its previous owner, he pouted and started to perform some practice swings with his hammer.
As she spoke to the group, inquiring about tracks, he emideatly started looking the place over, eager to remedy whatever it was he had done to make her angry.
Realizing the approximate number of lizardmen which had been here, he relayed the information to her.
Still shaking from the adrenaline of the fight pumping through him,Doc makes the rounds. He goes to see every member of the group personally to see to their health, he starts with Eve.
Eve is it? I saw what happened, it seemed... violent. How do you feel. Do you mind?
Pointing towards where the wounds used to be, the young medician starts prodding and inspecting until satisfied.
Like a baby born. You wont even scar.
He looks at Abigail, seeking her eyes. That young woman is full of surprises.
And then Hugo shows off his grizzly trophy proudly and Doc's daddy voice takes the front
By the devil's horns Hugo! What is the matter with you boy? You had better put that down right this moment. I dont remember the lizardmen mutilating our friends and families! What were you thinking? Whats wrong with you? Who needs that? As loathsome as that beast was, it was a person too. Like you and me son. And.. and good people just dont go around beheading others. Now you think about what you did and dont you do that again.
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I dont remember the lizardmen mutilating our friends and families!
"You must've had your eyes closed when we went by Mima's house then," she mutters audibly.
Abigail gets a lost look in her eyes and turns, hurrying to do something else. She begins to gather items, slinging them through her sash or in her arms, getting ready to see about bringing them back to Cromm's Holding.
Tomid looks through the equipment hoping something will be sized for him (anything?). He then looks around the area, trying to get a lay for the land, sharing what he observes with the others.
Not just coins Abi. There are gems here as well.
He listens to the others, and watches their actions. I don't want to go back. I want to find our survivors. There were survivors wern't there? He looks like he is about to tier up.
Eve replies to Doc
"I'm fine, the swamp and the woods are a violent place, and I'm used to it."
At Docs scolding, Hugos eyes shifted this way and that, his head beding. Wut ya doin, he aint ur Papa, dun take any guff...and even if he was Papa, you stood up to him! With a sneer, Hugo picked the head up again, tossing it at the Docs feet.
"Sorry Doc, I didnt know ya was best buddies. Maybe ya can patch him up real good, you is good at dat sorta stuff." He looked guilty for a moment, mocking the skills of a man who had tended so many of his own injuries in the past. But he was determined to stand up for himself, to not replace one Papa with another.
"Abi is right. Dey killed women and children ta get wat dey wanted. Dey is big and strong, dey didnt have ta kill em. Coulda just locked em up, but dey killed em...I cut off a head and ya talk like I is as bad as dem. As bad as a lizard who kills just cuz he can!... As he paused in an attempt to regain his posure, his lower lip started to quiver. Despite his best attempts to fight the sudden urge, tears started to well up in his eyes which became bright and shiny as the salty drops started to wash two thin streaks through the sot and grime on his cheeks. Talking about their reason for being there, of the terrible things which had befallen the people of Cromms Holding. It had all suddenly become too much for the man who had buried his feelings in his quest to be brave, to be a hero.
"Dey got far better dan dey deserved! A quick end to a weapon...ya cant ask fer a bigger blessin! I woulda cut its head off while it was still alive if I had da chance!" He wouldnt really, but he was so angry.
His breathing had turned to ragged uncontrolled sobbing. Unable to control his grief, embarrased at his open weakness, he picked up the headless corpse, raising it above his head. With a howl of mixed anguish and rage, he heaved the lifeless mass into the swamp.
Unable to bear everyones eyes upon him, he trudged off down the road they had come.
Zinny looks pale again at the beheading of the lizardman. The head that Hugo holds up drips. That's so horrid.
But she can't just let him go off on his own either.
"Hugo!" she calls, nervously moving half-way after him, trying to keep him and the group in sight. "Don't-- don't go off into th' swamp on your own! You, uh... th' folk here still need protectin', you know?"
The group compares observations from the day: The only human footprints here in the camp are yours. You have seen no evidence of any humans other than Cromm's hunting party in the swamp. You did not investigate all of the homes or potential hiding places back in the hold. From this you conclude that the lizardfolk did not bring any prisoners or hostages into the swamp.
Doc turns to the small serving girl with a look of disbelief on his face
Shame on you Abi. You think I dont remember what those poor folks looked liked. I touched everyone of them. I took the time to give dead friends their dignity back. I've had blood on hands all bloody long day. If anybody here has seen all of the horrors this bat has wrought, that would be me. And I dont remember seing those things
He kicks one of the corpses, hard, and then, flustered, picks up the head and brings it back to its body. He tries to place it in a way that shows respect but it is at this moment that the horrors of the day catch up to him. Sitting still by the body of their fallen foe, Doc lets tears roll by on his cheeks and stiffles his cries as best he can.
Hugo paused for a moment at Zinnys words, but started moving away almost emideatly Dey can handle demselves.
Tomid looks sad at the realization that there would be no one to rescue. I hope some of them are out hiding somewhere. I do not like to think about our people being captives of this lizard folk.
Tomid will help carry things but does not claim anything, since (I did not get a response to my question) none are his size. He holds up the smallest set of leathers. I wonder if these could be cut down for me?
@Tomid - Weapons are all for medium size creatures - they belonged to either humans or lizardfolk. The leather armor can be resized to fit you once you get back to town. You can, of course, put it on now, but it will be too big for you so I'll have to dock you some dex bonuses...
@Hugo - How far ahead of the group are you willing to go on your own? Are you still carrying all of the useable javelins?
@Zinny - How far are you willing to go after Hugo?
Went back and read through everyone's actions since the end of this battle - here's what I have so far and it is subject to change by other party member's actions!
2 Leather Armor - Zinny, Tomid
4 Short Swords - Hugo, ?, ?, ?
1 masterwork composite short bow - ?
4 Heavy wood shield - Hugo, ?, ?, ?
2 Morningstar - ?, ?
5 Javelin - Hugo (3), Zinny (1), Tomid (1 from before)
1 Potion of sumpin - Silas
Leather pouch with 120gp, 6pp, and 4 gemstones - John
Tomid will carry the short bow and any arrows. Should be only -1 to hit for being too big since its masterwork. Were there arrows?
Zinny looks very unhappy at Hugo's heading off. She twists her hands together in the nervous gesture she's not shaken herself of no matter how often her momma's told her to knock it off. If he goes off alone an' a whole bunch of them come on him...
But she can't just leave the others, either.
"Hugo, please, ain't nobody mad at you! 's been hard an' scary on alla us, folk yell sometimes!" she calls as his form disappears into the mist.
Very doomed Diplomancy. Zinny sighs, then turns and trudges back through the mud to the others.
"I ain't happy he cut that lizard's head off none neither but y'ought not've yelled at him. His daddy does enough of that," she mutters, not very clearly or loudly. Zinny can't bring herself to actually berate any of the people who she all thinks of as her betters.
The party gathers up everything and begins the trek back to Cromm's, keeping a tense and wary eye out for any wandering swamp creatures, or what's left of the Blue-Feather clan. Every so often, you see one of the lizardfolk wearing red-brown fur baldrics watching from the weeds or the water. On two separate occasions they even direct you towards an alternate path and away from some predator or other.
By the time you reach the edge of the swamp, you are about 1/4 mile from where you originally entered, and it is dusk. Heading towards the hamlet, you notice no one is left around the burned out ruins of the fortified house. Abigail absentmindedly offers her Aunt Mima's house for the group to stay the night, since no one is ready to walk all the way back to Daggermark.
As you pass over the next hill, you see the windows in Mima's place are lit and there are a few people on the porch, talking. One of them sees you and quickly enters the house. Within a minute 6 adults and teens are out of the house with pitchforks and clubs. John calls out and identifies the party, and they lower their weapons as you enter the circle of light. They welcome you in with sad, but peaceful, faces.
Suddenly, a high-pitched squeal erupts from the kitchen, followed by 3 children running and almost tackling Abigail. "Abi! Abi! You came back! We were hidin' in the cellar like Momma told us and were too afraid to see who all was making noises up here and stayed down there until Mistress Piann came and got us and told us you wuz here and now you're BACK!!!"
The remaining survivors crowd around the rest of you, asking for details and if you found their husbands, fathers, sons, or brothers. They have a stew cooking and offer you all a bowl plus some hard biscuits and fresh water.
The priest's voice does not enter the fray of the Hugo's condemnation because he is too busy with his back against the tree, trying to force his bile back down after such a grotesque sight. The combination of the brutality, the poison in his veins, the injury to his leg and the cold chill that follows the rush of adrenaline when his life was in danger is a bit more than Silas can handle.
By the time he gathers his wits about him, he has had some time to sniff the contents of the bottle he found. If it was a cologne, it was an awfully strange cologne. He would have to ask Ginley about it, but Hugo was of immediate concern. The only viable weapon Silas sees that he could use to defend himself sensibly is a short sword. He picks one up in each hand, weighs them against another, and takes the one he feels is the lighter of the two with an easier grip. It does not even occur to him that he doesn't have a scabbard for it, and others may notice that he tucks the blade with a certain degree of familiarity up under the crook of his arm, rather than carrying it open and brandished.
"War makes people do things they would never otherwise do," he says to Zinny as he passes her on the path, following after Hugo. "Though his actions are unforgivable, the man himself is. I'll keep an eye on him. Wait for us."
And Silas does just that, keeping a safe distance from Hugo, but keeping the giant man in his eyesight nonetheless. There isn't anything that needs to be said. Sometimes, you just have to be there for a person. It would be the only time he could imagine where it would be safe to be alone in the swamp with a man who cut off something's head.
When Hugo calms down, Silas just holds out a hand and guides him back to the rest of the group, vowing to have a few words with the blacksmith's father...
*******
When they return, Silas is in such a daze of weariness that he immediately takes some of the water and guzzles it down, rehydrating. "Bless you," he says to the people, and then relates to them all that had been seen.
"We were too late," he admits, with abundant grief. "Those brave men who pursued the lizards into the swamp caught up to them, and returned upon them all the violence they had visited upon us. They gave their lives to see to it that those creatures would not return again to terrorize the loved ones they left behind. Piann, I am so sorry that there was not more that could be done. And I feel the same for all who have suffered today."
Though his grief is genuine, his omission of the party from Daggermark's role in the adventure into the swamp is not. At least not entirely. In the hours that follow, as he repeats the tale to the people of Cromm's Hold, he underplays the actions of the party and seems to lay most if not all of the deaths of the lizardfolk upon Cromm and his men who pursued them. To tell it as it was, that they pursued the remainder and slew them, would seem to suggest that Cromm's loss was a fruitless endeavor. His death less meaningful than it should have been.
It was a small lie of omission, but such things were not out of custom for the priest, especially if it gave renewed purpose to the people, and could derive meaning from what he knew to really just be senseless chaos and barbarism.
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It's hard to hide the blood stains on the hem of her skirt.
She kneels down in front of the children, encircling them with her arms and pulls them close. There really aren't words. She looks like she's about to break into a wracking sob but her face remains untouched by tears. The barmaid laughs, instead. "I'm glad to see you, too," she says, her voice weary.
A shared look between her and another of the people there assures her that Trant is inside, and when she guides Beth, Breylinn and Clyde inside, he meets her at the doorway.
She doesn't confirm or deny Silas's story. Like she always had, she takes care of Mima's children, ensuring they're fed and comfortable. She carries the burden of telling them about Garron and Mima. Abigail is like a stone. For the children, she's a marble statue.
And once they've gone to sleep, she wanders out of the house, into the grassy hill beyond the house, and sits down on the edge of the well. She stares at Ewan's rapier and the idea that she might have been a hero and hates herself a little bit more.
But she still doesn't cry.
Please let me know if you want to claim any of these items. If someone else has it, feel free to talk with them! Anything not specifically claimed will be sold and the proceeds distributed evenly.
2 Leather Armor - Zinny, Tomid
4 Short Swords - Hugo, Silas, ?, ?
1 masterwork composite short bow - Tomid? Eve?
4 Heavy wood shield - Hugo, ?, ?, ?
2 Morningstar - ?, ?
5 Javelin - Hugo (3), Zinny (1), Tomid (1)
1 Potion of something or other - Silas
Leather pouch with 120gp, 6pp, and 4 gemstones - will be sold/divided unless anyone trades their portion for the amethyst (110gp), a piece of jade (2x110gp), or the black pearl (650gp).
If Eve needs the bow Tomid will give it up. He is pretty good with it, but is almost as good with a sling, except for the range thing. He plans to have a set of the leather armor cut down for him.
Tomid is curious about the potion. Its magic liquid? Is it good to mix drinks with?
Tomid does not talk much on the way back to Daggermark and does not even let his hands roam is he did on the way out while riding with Abi. Its a different world for him and he may never be the same. After a long period of silence he almost spews his thoughts. Not sure I'll ever feel safe again Abi. he confides as they ride. Could have been us attacked. I feel like I aught to be more ready in case it is us next time. And more ready to help other people if need rises. I think I am gonna get some gear ready and keep it handy, just in case. Might even practice with it some.
Standing up, she looked to the others. She tosses the bag to Keel, a look in her eye. "There's a lot of gold in there," she says to him, passing the responsibility along-- and hardly resisting the urge to simply pocket it or throw it into the swamp. How dare you turn your eye on me now, she felt. This wasn't luck. It was pity. She then turns her gaze back to the ground, searching.
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1 Heavy Wood Shield
1 Morningstar
Some of the money? :)
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Keel catches the bag easily, then quietly opens it and looks inside as the others continue to talk. This is more than a year's wages, he realizes grimly. People have been killed for a quarter of this much. Closing the bag again, Keel drops the bag into a secure evidence pouch on his belt.
The Watchman looks up sharply as Doc's chastisement rings out across the swamp. Keel presses his lips together grimly. "That's enough!" he snaps to the group at large. Stepping into the middle of the clearing and raising his voice, Keel calls out, "A lot of blood's been spilled today, and I'd rather not add any more to it! I'm just glad every one of you are all right.”
”Doc’s right, Hugo,” he continues. ”We don’t need trophies or severed heads as proof. That’s for mercenaries and bandits. The only proof the village needs is the word of an officer of the Law, which is why I’m here along with you.”
"Look...." He looks from one person to another, his weathered face breaking into a kind smile. ”I’m proud of each and every one of you. It’s not an easy thing to raise a weapon in anger against someone else. I’m sure many of you have never touched a weapon in your lives....” He holds his gaze on the barmaid Abigail for a moment before continuing, ”...and I hope none of you ever have to do so again, after today.”
”Make no mistake: We aren’t fighters,” he says gravely. ”We’re ordinary folks. We’re not warriors or heroes.....Or if we are, then we're just Ordinary Heroes. But when we get back to town, people are going to treat you like one. The folks at home will never see this!” he waves at the headless Lizardfolk, still bobbing in the swamp. ”They won’t know about the blood and the fear and the fire that each and every one of you faced today! When other folks were in need, you stood up and you answered my call. You could have stayed home or sent some other poor bugger in your place. But you came here and you stepped outside the comfort of the village and now nothing is going to be the same for you ever again. You've heard the screams of the dying and you've seen true battle and you've smelled the stench of violent death."
"Look, I..." Keel swallows and takes off his helmet for the first time in front of the others. Without the symbol of his authority on his head, John looks humble and strangely frightened. "I'm just an ordinary copper," he confesses. "The closest I've ever gotten to this stuff is fighting in street gangs as a kid and breaking up bar brawls at four o'clock in the morning. I don't know much about fighting, but I know a lot about people, and what I do know is that the people back home won't understand any of this. The good folks of Daggermark are peaceful, and I want to protect that peace for as long as I can."
"So...What I guess I'm saying is..." Keel spreads his hands. "You've all done a very brave thing today, but you need to remember that doesn't make you a hero, no matter what anyone says. We're not heroes. We're just ordinary folks stepped up and did the right thing because nobody else would. That's all."
The grizzled Watchman stands quietly for a moment, staring at his reflection in the dented helmet in his hands. "We can't do anything for those the monsters killed....but we can make sure that it doesn't happen again." He looks up and smiles at everyone. "So I guess....It's been an honor, folks. Thanks for sticking with it to the end."
Zinny trudges despondently back with the others, the pieces-of-worked leather she took from the dead lizardman draped over her big stick. The javelin is tucked in her belt.
Alla that, and they hadn't even saved nobody, she thinks glumly. Miss Eve had gotten real hurt though. Least Abby'd been able to patch her up.
She listens to Keel's speech, staring at her toes.
"I know 'm no hero, Mister Keel, y'ain't gotta worry I'll get a big head or nothin'," she says earnestly.
She kicks a rock into the swamp, morosely.
"We din't save nobody, tho'," she says, voicing her unhappy thoughts. "Cromm an' them was dead likely 'fore we set out from the Holdin'. Did we do any sorta good?
"I mean... I guess we took them blue-feather lizards out so they ain't liable to bother us anytime soon. Just seems like kinda poor comfort. Like you hungry for a real meal an' all you get is the cold scrapin's from the stew-pot."
Zinny sighs, then lifts her brawny shoulders in a shrug. "I guess I ain't oughtta complain none. We're all alive an' we might notta been."
Hope Hugo's okay, she thinks, on the way home. And on the heels of that thought, Oh dung-heaps, I'm gonna be in SUCH trouble with Momma.
As far as the gold, Zinny looks honestly surprised if any mention of passing it out happens. She will accept a share if anyone insists, and then turn around and give it to one of the families of Cromm's holding.
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Abigail interrupts Zinny with a quick word: "We made sure it didn't happen again. That's what we did, here. That's what we've done tonight."
Honestly, John Keel might never know that Abigail's shattered sense of self was partly put back together by the words he said that evening in the fetid swamp. It wouldn't be for hours until she thought to say 'thank you', but it was too late by then, and it had already passed.
She looked to Tomid as he spoke. "That would be smart, wouldn't it?" she said with a smile. "I'm... not sure why I have this sword at all, but one day, I'll be glad it feels just right in my hand."
"Maybe ask Mr. Keel if he wouldn't mind showing you? I'd say Hugo, but... he's got a few hundred pounds on you, wouldn't you say?"
The conversation helps dull her growing panic. The children had to be somewhere...
Hugo followed the others through the swamp in silence, sullen and unwilling to reply to questions or talk. He simply grunted to acknowledge that he heard what they said. "Dem heroes in da stories cut of 'eads all da time ta prove dey done good. Aint noone eva yell at dem fer doin it. Dey cheer fer da heroes."
Keels speech did nothing to raise his spirit, if anything it made it worse. "Not heroes", "Ordinary people"? It flew in the face of his dreams, and coupled with the groups disapproval made him question everything. Doubt and a fledgling self loathing filled his mind.
When they reached the hamlet to find the children alive, he shared in the relief of the others, but remained quiet all the same.
Short Swords
Heavy wood shield
Morningstar
2 Leather Armor - Zinny, Tomid
4 Short Swords - Hugo, Silas, Eve, ?
1 masterwork composite short bow - Tomid
4 Heavy wood shield - Hugo, John, Abby, Eve
2 Morningstar - John, Eve
5 Javelin - Hugo (3), Zinny (1), Tomid (1)
1 Potion of something or other - Silas holding for party
(These may not be individually sold...)
Dividing up the treasure bag gives each of you 145gp to do with what you will...
Don't forget the 50gp worth of favors/goods you may exchange in town for equipment.
Doc nods at the words of the constable. Now leaving the pain behind and settling into comfortable numbness, he goes with the others back the way they came
Back at Cromm's holdings, Doc offers his services to prepare the bodies for burial.
Hugos return to Daggermark was a quiet one. As soon as they had handled their business with gold and rewards, he returned to the smithy, finding his father inside eating dinner. No words passed between the two, except for a low grunt from Papa Smith as he motioned towards a bowl and spoon set ready across from him on the table. In place of the broken chair was a simple metal bucket for Hugo to sit on.
The silence continued for the rest of the evening, Hugo cleaning and polishing his hammer, while his father sat in his favorite chair and read a book. It was one of the old books he had read to Hugo when he had been a child, a book about heroes and adventure. At one point, he snorted to himself, mumbling a low "Heroes, bah."
However when he finally closed the book and moved to go to bed, he stopped at the foot of the stair, back turned to Hugo.
"Ya can stay or ya can leave. Ya can use the smithy to get yerself ready, make some of that armor yer always hammerin out and melting down again. Ya didnt think I hadnt noticed did ya? Ill even help ya if ya want. Makin such things aint an easy job fer just one man." He turned to look at his son.
"Ya did good boy, ya know that right? I tried to stop ya, when I shoulda gone myself. Seems bravery aint somthin ya can teach, cuz ya sure didnt get it from yer old man." He looked embarrassed, something Hugo was seeing for the first time. All he was able to muster in return was a surprised look.
Papa Smith stared off into space for a few long moments, then took a deep breath and a few steps up the stairs.
"Ya sleep on it now boy, make yer decision in the mornin." He started up the stairs again. Then Hugo spoke for the first time since his return.
"I already knows wat I is gonna do Papa. I seen wut its like, wut its like ta be a hero, ta do sumthin cuz its right, cuz noone else can. I dun tink I can eva make ya understand how it feels, I aint dat godd wit words...but ya already know dat." He paused to smile meekly.
"All I can tells ya is, I want more. Horse shoes and shovels just aint good enouff anymore, yer gonna have ta do dem yerself from now on...But I is glad yer ok wit it."
His father laughed softly, reaching up a hand to rub his tired eyes.
"I aint really ok with it, truth be told. I still think yere a damn fool boy. But earlier today, when I woke up with a broken chair by my side and a bump on my head, I realized something. I realized that my son was miserable, that he didnt wake up every day to a life he wanted. I realized that he wanted something else, but he didnt go out and get it...because of me. If yer mother had been here to see it, a chair over the head woulda been the least of my troubles." He sighed heavily.
"So I aint ok with it Hugo...but I understand. I didnt always want to be a blacksmith you know, but I learned to love it. If ya ever change yer mind, ya can always come back here...Maybe when ya grow tired of this hero business, ya can learn to love bein a blacksmith too." And with that, he dissapeared up the stairs.
Hugo remained by the fire for a long while yet, wrestling with mixed feelings of guilt and happiness.
But wait, theres hope!!
The Magus Archetype Soul Forger has the ability Master Smith, which basically cuts crafting time to 1/10th, putting us back to 16 weeks! But wait, theres more!
Master Smith also adds the Magus' level to his Craft skill, putting your Master Armorer at +45!. Not only that, but since a Magus is an Int based caster, he likely has a higher Int, lets say 18. Furthermore, since hes now a spellcaster, he may as well be the Court Wizard, so he probably owns a sweet +4 Headband of Intellect! So thats another +4 bonus over the previous Master Armorer. Hes almost at +50 now!
So now it only takes maybe 10 weeks to craft that +5 Adamantine Fullplate Armor!
Man, its REALLY good to be king!
You get a mixed reception after returning to Daggermark. Some folks treat you with a little more respect. Some folks stay a little farther away from you. Some folks ignore you altogether...but they were never your friends, anyways. Most folks asked you about what happened; what you saw; was it exciting; was it hard; what you did when you first saw the lizardfolk. But like John said, they don't REALLY want to know the details...about the blood and guts hanging out, about the massacres and death everywhere, about how it smelled and how your fear was a palpable thing poisoning you. No...they ask for stories, but not too many details...
Some of the survivors from Cromm's hold moved back to Daggermark, and several people had relatives from Cromm's. You receive free drinks and scowls in equal measure. But in all of this, one common reaction sticks out. The common folk you know don't see you as 'one of them' anymore.
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Abigail's home is a lot smaller with four more people in it.
Bringing the children back to her dingy shack was, in a few letters, disappointing. Ewan let her sell the furniture in the house, even hired a man with a card to go get it, and when all was done, she had just enough coin to make ends meet with the children and buy a pair of caskets and a likewise hole in the ground for Mima and Garron.
She liked Garron. Sometimes, she turns to Trant and has to pause for a moment, because he looks too much like his brother.
People in past tense. Like she was, lately. Abigail was... such a nice girl. Abigail once... was a real sweetheart. Nowadays, Abigail... is weighed down by four kids. Doesn't she look half as pretty as she used to?
Abigail cut her hair when they got home. Short and ragged-- like a mom's would be. It was at the end of her madness, where she had suddenly felt like the world was against her. But in the end, she prevailed alone. How she wished someone had said something-- but everyone was dealing with their demons.
She wanted to apologize to Hugo, but never found a reason. She was too tired.
The old Abigail wasn't so tired.
Beth, Breylinn and Clyde all share Abigail's bed, and Trant sleeps on a bedroll on the floor. Abigail catches sleep when she can, during the day, inbetween shifts and in chairs and corners when no one is looking.
Ewan's rapier was put up on the wall next to the wooden shield and the short sword she'd found. Trant and Breylinn were taught to hold it, how to swing it, but truth be told, Abigail hardly had a knowledge of such things. That's where Ewan stepped in-- a hero to her, really. He'd take the children when she was too tired to stand, help out here and there, talk to her and help her work out her issues. Ewan even employed Trant as a busser and a dishwasher.
By the end of it all, she was okay. It was when she'd come home after a long night and found the children all asleep already. Their faces, so peaceful and calm, under the candle light gave her a feeling of elation. For the first time in a long while, she considered herself lucky.
With a knock, days after the attack, Abigail entered the blacksmith with trepidation in her eyes and gold in her pouch, looking for Hugo.
Abigail felt like she had to buy armor. Something had to be wrong with her.
Daily life was just... missing something.
Zinny's return to town consisted of a trudge to the brothel, opening the back door as quiet as she could (which wasn't quiet at all, that hinge needing oiling and she never remembered to do it during the day), and trying to tiptoe quietly for her room.
Nothin' doin', of course. Momma stood there arms crossed, shawl wrapped around her, a lamp burning on the hearth. The soft yellow glow flattered Momma-- hid the lines at the corners of her eyes and mouth that had started to grow there, which even the powders and paints didn't entirely conceal.
"Zinnia."
She knows that tone. She's in for a scoldin'. Every muscle aches an' she got dirt and lizard blood under her nails and all. Only thing she wants is bed.
"Momma, can you go on hollerin' at me in the mornin'? I'm real tired," Zinny says, almost before she realizes she's givin' Momma sass. She don't give her mouth permission to say it, it just comes on out and then she's staring with vague horror down at her mother, realizing what she said.
Verella's lips thin into a line; her eyebrows draw together.
"Zinnia Lucille Holbern."
"....yes'm?"
"Is that how you speak to your mother?"
"No'm. Sorry'm."
"Yes, I think you had better be. What devil possessed you to go running off to gods-know-where, leaving me here with all the work to do--"
"Momma, it wasn't gods-know-where, it was Cromm's, th' folk there, they got att--"
"Girl, if you interrupt me again I will not be responsible for my actions, am I understood?"
"...yes, Momma."
"Yes, and what?"
"...'m sorry, Momma."
Verella sighs and pinches at the bridge of her nose. "You're filthy. Well, it's too late to boil water for the washtub. Go clean yourself off at the pump. It looks like you've been in a swamp."
The thought of the cold well-water at this hour was almost too much to bear. Zinny bit her lip. "Cuz I was, Momma, we chased lizards into the swamp an'--"
"Young lady, I think I have made myself very clear. You ran off on a fool's errand, leaving your old mother alone, here, to run the house all by myself, with no protection should anyone have started rough-housing-- you tromped around in the mud with the smith's boy and whoever else went about playing at knights and wizards with you-- and you are now tracking mud in the hallway. And tomorrow morning, because you were not here, my guests will not have the things you were supposed to fetch from market today, and your list of chores hasn't gotten any shorter, let me tell you. Now. Not another word. Go wash up!"
Zinny hung her head, muttered a yes, momma, and turned around to trudge back outside to the rusty pump that lurked in the back yard.
As she filled the bucket with the cold water and rinsed off her hands and boots and apron from the blood and the mud, Zinny thought of Keel's words. How they wasn't supposed to think they was heroes or nothin'.
Well, she thought, teeth chattering, wasn't much chance of that.
***
Life went back to normal, for Zinny. Mornin' came early, and there was always work to be done. The fence needed nailing. There was a leak in the cellar. There were bugs in the cellar. Dishes needed washing, and so did clothes, and...
At nights, even though she was tired as an old mule, she stared at the javelin, and the bits of leather she'd taken off the dead lizardman. Sewing had never been her strong suit. Maybe the leatherworker in town could resew the leather panels to fit her better but...
...why? To what point or purpose? She wasn't no hero. That much was abundantly clear.
She stared at the necklace she'd taken from the dead girl, too. Poor thing. Wasn't right at all.
The gold they'd found, she passed her share on to Abby. Abby was takin' in all those poor children. "You give it to them for.... clothes or toys or somethin'," she'd muttered, staring at her feet.
And she'd found herself swinging by the leather-worker's anyhow, after that. Just to ask. Maybe she'd never wear it herself but.... maybe someone else could use it.
After that first evening following his return, Hugo and his father seemed to fall into their usual routine. Hugo managed his chores, running errands and hammering out shoes, while his father took care of the more involved metalworking jobs. Business as usual, on the surface atleast.
However where before, one could pass the smithy and overhear Papa Smith yelling at his son, now, most days, only the sound of the hammer could be heard. Just like that first evening, the two men went about their business in silence, communicating mostly with grunts and nods, rarely speaking more than a few words to eachother. To an onlooker this might have seemed as if the two were on bad terms, but in truth, it was merely the silence of content coexistense.
However, despite the weeks and eventually months that followed being better than the many years that came before, Hugo was finding his slow progress with his armor frustrating. His desire to travel further than Cromms Holding, to see what lay beyond the horizon, had only gotten stronger as time wore on.
So it was, that when Abigail entered the smithy almost two months after the attack, the two men were speaking to eachother quite a bit more than one would have expected.
"Papa stop 'elpin, I gots ta put it on maself, ya wont be dere ta 'elp me once I is off on me own!"
"Oh stop fussin boy, ya aint goin nowhere till we know if this darned steel anchor even sits on ya proper. Now hold still so I can give it a good look over an make sure everythin sits where its supposed to!"
Looking around the forge itself, Abigail soon realized the voices were coming from behind the building, out in the small backyard. As she made for the back, more chatter continued to reach her ears.
"But Papa, I is sure its all good, I looked at it over an' over, aint nuttin wrong wit it!"
"And I keep tellin ya, ya cant look at it while yer wearin it, not proper atleast! Now hands off those buckles boy and let me do this!"
"But Papaaaaa..."
As she neared the corner of the building, the low rattling of metal plates could be heard, followed by a low thud and the gasp of Papa Smith losing his breath.
"Back on yer knees boy, I cant reach when yer standin up like that!"
More rattling followed, punctuated by grunts and snorts from both men. Then Abigail finally rounded the corner.
There in the middle of the yard was Hugo, wearing a breastplate which was only partically secured to his torso, gauntlets and thigh guards strewn about on the lawn. Hanging from his neck was his father, one meaty arm wrapped around his sons neck in a headlock, the mans face red as a tomato as he tried to bring down his struggling son.
Hugo spotted her a moment before his father, freezing in an awkward position, half bent forward under the weight his meaty necklace.
"Uuhh...Papa..."
"Aha! Ya give boy?! Yer old man still got some tricks eeh, if I was 20 years younger I..."
Realizing Abigails presence, Papa Smith too froze, hanging for a moment longer before letting go and dropping to the ground. Pulling his pant up a bit further he proceeded to try to nonchalantly adjust his apron.
"Uhm, yes, well, uhm, goodday to ya Ms. What can I do for ya?"
Hugo simply straightened back up, armor rattling. Producing an awkward smile he waved at her. Since their return, he had hardly seen any of the others. Abigail was the first of them to come see him. He suddenly became very aware that he himself had made no attempt to contact any of the others since then. He had been so busy.
Tomid returns to his normal life with relative ease, outwardly. He enjoys the notoriety at the bar and likes it when some of the regulars call him hero. When he has had a few drinks himself he can be persuaded to weak the metal his friends made for him on its purple ribbon. He hangs the lizard man javelin behind the bar and tells embellished stories of their quest in the swamp to patrons when Eli is not around. All the extra tips he makes from these stories go into a jar though, and at the end of the week, every week, he slips the coins into Eli's tip jar for the kids. He denies its from him and explains the the locals just want to help out, but he knows that she knows where it comes from.
When he takes time to reflect about what happened he's sorry for the loss of life, and really sorry that his ma lost her friend. He begins to prey some to that Sarenrae lady his ma's friend was all big into. And he thinks he hears an answer from her. It brings him comfort and encourage him to act more boldly to protect the weak. He considers going and talking to Brother Silas about it all, but then remember what he knows about them man. In the end he decides that he will go and talk to Brother Silas anyway. People change. Maybe talking to him like he is a real priest will make him a better person too. And beside, who else is he gonna talk to?
After a while of daily life he gets the urge to go and talk to real priests of Sarenrae in some other city. He makes the trip and is gone for a week. When he returns he seems a little different. Less centered on himself and more on others. Most folk don't notice the change, at least at first. But his friends do. If questioned he will explain that he has found religion in his own way (become, or becoming Neutral Good).
Sometime after this trip Tomid will go to visit Hugo and his father. I have a request for you if you promise not to laugh. I want some metal armor - a chain shirt. Can you make that in my size? I could pay half up front.
On her way home from the leatherworker's, Zinny stops at the bowyer's, shuffling her feet in the dirt. It's one thing to ask the leatherworker's to put some rivets into her leather and add a few panels so it better fits her, but... to actually see about a bow...
Zinny, you stop this nonsense right now, there's work to be done. She can hear her mother saying it, alright. Zinny scratches at her hair.
But she also remembers bein' up on top that rock and staring down at the battle. She'd had only a few javelins. If she'd had... a bow, maybe...
Maybe lizards gonna come to their town, some day. Maybe she gonna have to climb up on the Dancing Whip's roof and shoot at them. Maybe if she could do that, maybe then Momma'd be proud of her.
"Hey, mister Dooley..." Zinny begins, hesitantly.
She isn't expecting the broad smile the older man grants her, the hearty welcome-- or the fact that when she mumbles about wanting to look at a bow, he pushes a short curved one into her hands, and a quiver of arrows.
"No, you keep your coins. You did good, going to help those folk at Cromm's," Dooley the bowyer says, and Zinny blushes fiercely. She stammers her thanks, and stumbles from the shop blinking back dumb, embarrassed, grateful tears.
It is late when Mister Ginley finally reaches Daggermark. The song of crickets, frogs and other nightly critters accompanying him. The excitement of finding his children in bed and the warmth of his wife is not enough to help hum lift his weary feet. They know he made it out, he entrusted John Keel to tell her he was staying behind to help prepare the bodies.
It is a rare sight to see the apothecary smoke, a vice he has left behind a few years ago but tonight he is. Someone out too late at night was nice enough to give him a cheap cigarette, one of those night watchman that work with Keel but whom Doc couldnt remember his name. The paper burns too fast and the tobacco spills to the ground but Doc dosnt care. He is feeling contemplative as he walks through his village, his home back to his shop and abode. Thinking on life, on the futility of those events that happened today. Thinking on how much he appreciates his own life and the good health of his familly. He did find Charity's sister today, she and her familly were fine. Kept safe at the temple.
And now here is the door
His hand on the doorknob, he hesitates to open the door. It seems to him that the event of the day transformed him and he fears what those changes could do to his familly but after a few heartbeat he opens the door expecting the jingle of the bell but only being met by silence and obscurity. He remembers that the bell was thrown off earlier today by the neighbor's boy. His boots scuffling unnaturally loudly he walks over to the corner where it fell and picks it up. Turning it over and looking at it as if hed never seen it before. Turning around and reaching behind the counter, he takes his stool and brings it to the door and fixes it.
He listens for the sound of his wife or children but he hears nothing but owls hooting in the distance. He then makes his way down the steps and into the basement where he puts everything away where it goes. When all that is done he opens the cabinet. Down here away from the kids like everything else that might be dangerous is where Doc keeps the bottles. He picks the good one. Some peaty liquor older then his marriage. He pours two fingers in a glass and, at first, simply stares at it. The color of it by the canndlelight and its bouquet ensnaring his mind and then he hears her.
Lily just woke up and she sounds mighty fretful. The kids musts have been anxious all day and evening. It must have been hell here for Charity he thinks to himself climbing up the stairs and unto the second floor into the appartment. When Charity gets to the nursery she sees her husband, babe in arms, singing sweet nothings to their youngest. Dishevelled and dirty but unarmed, she walks up to them and they huddle together.
Days turn into weeks and Doc stops spending so much time in the basement. It used to be amusing to find new concoctions, to create the perfect bomb but now, after having used them to hurt others, it feels different.
People come and go, sometime they say somethings about Cromm's hold but Doc himself never brings it up and it is clear to most that he has no desire to speak of it at all. He dosnt regret doing what he did and should the situation arise again he would do it like the others i guess. Not really out of a choice, more out of some sort of necessity. Doc is no hero, but he knows that if he could never live with himself he didnt at least try to help those who need it.
One day Hugo comes by on an errand for his father and Doc, feeling a bit guilty about the lizard's head says.
[b] Hugo, I didnt expect to see you so soon. Listen, I had no right to yell at you. It must have been the heat or the things we saw but... i know you meant no harm. So, I apologise [b]
Hugo shrugged at the Doc, seemingly having put the incident with the head behind him.
"Is ok Doc, I gots ta tinkin about it after we got 'ome. I shouldnt 'ave done it. I still says it wus a gud idea, ya know, ta bring back sum proof. But it wus disrespectful. Gorum wouldnt 'ave approved at all. Even if dat lizard killed fer all da wrong reasons, 'e still died figtin fer em. Ya gotta respect da ded, even yer enemy."
Lifting the box of goods Doc had placed on the counter, the blacksmiths son made for the door.
"Gud seein ya again Doc, say 'ello to da family from me yah?"
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Abigail awkwardly smiles at Hugo. "Afternoon, Mister Smith, Hugo. I've, um, come for a fitting... or something akin to those lines."
Abigail produces her coin purse and the hundred gold she'd earned from Cromm's Holding. "Everything said and done, there's no way I'm going to find myself a new home any time soon-- not until the spring, at least, when people are keen on building them. Right now, I'm most interested in, well..."
She looks to Hugo-- perhaps he felt the same. "The best source of income, it seems, isn't waitressing after all. And to do that one needs equipment."
"I'd like to be fitted for and put a down payment on a chain shirt, if possible. So, thinking this, I came to the best blacksmith I know."
She slid the subtext under the obvious, glancing to Hugo as she spoke, but kept her firm compliments on his father. She hoped he knew she meant it, even if it was only in endearment.
Once his father had walked away, Abigail smiled at Hugo and asked: "So, any of the others come by recently? I see so little of you at the tavern nowadays, and so very little of the others. Sometimes its hard to believe what happened really did happen, isn't it?"
With the sudden company, father and son gave up on their armoring endavours. Pulling the breastplate off Hugo let it dump onto the lawn, dusted himself off and went to shake Abigails hand.
Hearing her reason for the visit, Papa Smith excused himself and walked off. Abigail couldnt help but notice that he avoided eye contact as he passed her to walk inside. Even if she didnt know as much, he was rather embarrased about the things he had called her that day when they had all left for Cromms.
"Fi-fittin?" Hugo looked the small woman up and down, apprehension clearly visible in his eyes. Sure he had thought about his own hands on her body plenty of times, but that had been whenever he was so drunk he could hardly stand. The very thought of all the "hands on" work needed to make armor fit a person, it was enough to make him blush. The reason she even wanted the armor surprised him however, enough to make him forget his previous thoughts.
"Wut do ya mean Abi? Ya wanna go out dere again? Fer moeny? Ya sure dats a gud idea? I mean ya cant get killed waitressin atleast."
He scratched as his neck, thinking for a moment, brow furrowing as he strained to make his mind work harder.
"Yer da first one ta come by Abi, and I aint 'ad time ta go talk to any of da others." He motioned at the breatplate behind him. "I did see da Doc a few weeks ago, had ta get sum more polishin oil and oder tings. He looked like he was doin alrite. Wat about you, ya seen any of em?"
"I guess its been 'ard ta believe, although ya shoulda seen wat happened when I got 'ome. Now DAT was 'ard ta believe." He nodded to himself, a small smile on his lips. "It wus terrible wut happened, sure was...But tings with Papa, dey been so gud since den. I is still leavin though. I is just about ready ta get goin actually." He looked at Abi with a serious face.
"If I is gonna make ya dat chainshirt, ya gotta be sure ya wanna go, like, really sure ya know? I wanna get goin and makin it is gonna take atleast a month I tink."
Working so many hours on Hugo's breastplate, Hugo and his father soon realize they have a lot more business than they can handle on their own. Hugo is only mildly surprised when Papa starts talking around town about taking on another apprentice. He's shocked, but proud, when he hears what his papa has been saying; "My boy has dun so good it ain't hardly right for him to do the work of a nube apprentice no more. Time to git me a new boy to make nails and horse shoes and such..."
After Hugo's encounter with Doc, Abigail comes asking for armor, and then Tomid, and the group realizes they need to talk about that day. Something has shifted in them all, and no one else in this town understands. Trying to return to normal doesn't work when you're no longer normal...
And so it is one evening in late summer, about three months after their experience in the swamp, that the group of friends, these ordinary folks some call "The Heroes of the Lizardswamp", agree to meet in the Happy Cow Tavern.
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"Just Tomid and Keel. Tomid went on a journey-- I think he found a little light in his soul. Of course, he found religion," she says and then laughs: "And of course, it's not mine."
"Mister Keel got promoted as far as I saw but he's still doing the same thing. Waved hi to him a few times. Oh, and Zinny! She gave me all of that money but I'm not sure what to do with it... I would have turned her down if she had let me, to be honest."
With a look of sadness in her eyes, she continues. "I heard that a trapper went out to Eve's home far in the boonies and it was... empty. I guess she moved on without tellin' anybody. Kind of sad, if you think of it."
She looks up to Hugo. He always had a look in his eye like he was ready to reach out and touch her but he never did-- too polite. It was nice to see that, well, he was... distant, but he had that look for a minute when he stammered about fitting armor for her.
"I don't know about getting killed. I'm a good luck charm, you know. That makes me invincible. But the cuts and bruises I might do without." She pauses. "What do you mean, leaving?" she asks, thinking of Eve. "Don't tell me you're leaving town as well," Abigail inquires, a jesting tone in her voice but a serious thought in her mind. She'd always known Hugo. They were still just children a few months ago. Now everything was... she felt like her aunt, locked into a destiny she couldn't control, and it was hard to pull the reigns back and steer her fate onto a road less traveled.
Trant cleans the bar while Ewan counts the till. Abigail waits for the others, securing a booth and Ewan's permission to stay in after closing to have a conversation with the others that doesn't involve dirty eyes and patronizing free drinks from the people of Daggermark.
She slumps into the seat, drawing the rag off of her head and letting her short hair bounce free. Abigail feels like she's just about to doze off.
"Well Abi, ya know, I is just a smith cuz Papa is a smith. Aint nuttin wrong wit bein a smith or anytin, but I wus always tinkin about 'ow it would be ta be a real 'ero, ya know, like in all dem books. Mista Keel can say we aint 'eroes all 'e wants. Wen all da tings 'appened, I knew I could really do it, ya know. So I is gonna do it Abi. I is gonna go out dere, and really try it."
He looked a bit sad, suddenly realizing how many people he would be leaving behind. He didnt know anyone out there. It was bound to get lonely. And he didnt want to leave Papa behind either when it had all been going so well the last few months.
But he couldnt deny the longing he felt either.
"Tell ya wat Abi, maybe we 'elp eachother fer a bit first? I can try it wit you first, den if I still feel like goin after a while, I really do it, go all da way. Would be gud ta 'ave more time wit Papa too. Waddaya say? I even make da chain fer free, ya just gotta pay fer da steel!"
Seeing Abi already sat at the booth, he walked over to her
"Ey Abi, 'ard days werk? Maybe dis will cheer ya up?"
He held the chainshirt towards her, grasping its sleeves with thumbs and pointy finger, as if it was a fragile dress made of silk.