Steely glint in his eyes and smile on his face, Jamarcus locks his gaze with Grimkell as he hoists the unconscious bandit to his feet.
Son, I don't believe in no magic
He punctuates his words with vicious slaps to the bandits face, whipping his head back and forth.
As the little fey pelted the unconcious man with arrows Mirri replied. "Yep, I've known how to make colors all along, it's a very useful spell at least for now. Though I would appreciate you not pelting the helpless man with arrows, we do need answers after all." She smiled at the fey, "And thank you for your assistance sister." Mirri glared at Jamarcus as he beat the man, "Stop that Jamarcus, he'll only be out for a minute or so. If you don't believe in magic maybe you'd like a direct demonstration while we wait." Mirri's voice holds a great deal of anger at him for beating on the helpless man.
Pym flits around excitedly, "OK, sister, no more arrows."
She flies circles around Jamarcus' head, "Lost One, Lost One, you cannot wake him up that way when he is asleep because of the colors. Is there not magic where Lost One comes from?"
Zisel muffles a laugh at the notion of a place without magic. Golarion lived and breathed magic. Even the most remote corners of the earth had some magic tucked away.
"He's just stubborn, I'm sure, Pym. But, regardless, we might as well wait until he comes to."
Jamarcus drops the bound, unconscious man. "You know, I'm thinking Lars was right. Maybe I can still catch up to him and convince him to buy me a few beers at the bar. Good luck finding that lady." He then turns and pulling his coat up tight around his face, walks away from the group.
Shortly after, the bound man wakes up still stunned and blind he groans and starts to panic.
With the badit waking up and panicking Mirri did what came naturally. the elven woman knelt and spoke as she gently put her hands on the bandits shoulders in reassurance after she made sure he had no weapons handy, "Calm, your sight will come back shortly. I'm afraid you left us little choice but to deal with you. At least you are left with your life, unlike your compatriots. Once you've answered our questions we'll see about whether we can let you live or not."
"What?" Grimkell exclaims. "You too?!" he continues, as the men slowly walks away from the group without paying attention to him. "You were the last..." he stops himself, apparently about to say something he should not.
Having totally forgotten the bound man, Grimkell paces around, frustrated. As he does, he looks at Zisel, Mirri, and Theora. As he does, he looks more and more discouraged.
"A bunch of women going to rescue a lady... there nothing glorious of worthy of a saga in there... worst, they are a bunch of witches... no semblance of warrior here."
Grimkell grows more stern, his eyes shed the appearance of despair to become incredibly focused.
"Right, let's get this over with and return to town soon." he says, turning around and likely making Mirri's speech much less calming than it could have been.
The man instinctively jerks away from Mirri's touch, but when he hears her words that were meant to be soothing he instead becomes enraged and begins cursing and bucking as he attempts to free himself from his bonds.
Zisel comes to stand above the man with her arms crossed and looking down onto him as he throws his temper tantrum. Her glare could shoot daggers, but the effect is probably lost due to the fact that he may not be able to see her.
"Oh, stop your fussing. You know very well you've been up to no good so you might as well give yourself a fighting chance of redemption now. It's either than or you can go explain your choices to the Lady of Graves now. So, again, you can either fuss until we send her to you, or calm down enough for us to exchange words. I'm personally for the later choice, as I think we'll all benefit more from it."
Theora watches Jamarcus depart, a weary sigh escaping her thin lips. "Let him go, boy. His heart clearly isn't in this anymore. Not like yours." She pats Grimkell twice on the shoulder, before whistling to her crow and shuffling over to watch the interrogation.
"Clearly. " Grimkell answers to Theora. "Also, stop calling me boy. I am much too old for this." he finishes flatly, too decided to finish their quest to even get mad about being called boy.
The man stops squirming so much and grows quiet, after a moment, when his eyes begin to clear he looks up at Zisel. "What do you want from me?"
Since the man is more willing to speak to Zisel than her, Mirri begins to check the bodies of the bandits, in particular she looked for clothing better suited to the cold weather, even if it was ill fitted. She also made sure to check each for magical auras as she went, taking her time to do the job right.
"Why on earth did you all take that nice lady? Who is she to you all? And where exactly are you taking her off to? I don't suppose your camp is near by?" Zisel starts her inquiry, pausing to leave the man time to answer between questions.
"You say you're too old to be called 'boy', yet you don't look a day over seventeen, and haven't aged in the years I've seen you about town," Theora mutters, shaking her head with a twinkle in her eyes. "There's more to you than appearances would suggest, isn't there, Grimkell?" She winks once at the young man, before dropping the subject and turning her attention back to the interrogation.
"Another question, if I may add one?" she asks Zisel, before addressing the man. "What would you do if we were to untie you right now? Those ropes can't be comfortable."
While looking over the corpses, something catches your attention out of the corner of your eye. You turn your head just in time to catch movement coming from a dark patch against the snow a little ways into the woods near where the bandits were. You hear a groan come from the dark patch.
Mirri was just about to start removing the needed clothing from the bandit whose size was closest to her when she spotted something, a flash of movement. She gestured to Pym and pointed then placed a finger to her lips indicating to be silent. When the little sprite was ready Mirri waved at Theora and pointed into the brush then began to head that way. The winter elf was careful as she approached the source of the movement, a spell ready on her lips.
Pym lands silently on Mirri's shoulder, bow at the ready. Although Mirri tries to be quiet in her movements, the crunching of the snow is evident. It doesn't seem to matter much though, because when she gets into a position to have a better look she finds a person laying face down in the snow. Difficult to be certain from this angle, but Mirri thinks that it is a female and her head seems to be bleeding. She groans again, seeming to rouse from being knocked unconscious.
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A tall figure lies in an awkward angle, taller than the bandits. A disheveled fur coat covers most of the frame, and oily hair cascades around the snow, darkened in places from the blood weeping from bruises and cuts. The person is indeed female, though not a beauty by anyone's standards, there is a disquieting allure to her features. As consciousness returns, an oversized hand flexes, grabbing the snow, a hand that ends in vicious claws.
Grimkell waves away Theora's question. "I'll tell you all about it back in Heldren." he says, still focused on the person they captured moments ago. That is, until Mirri heads away from the group.
"What's there..." he starts before realizing that the frail elf is heading alone into the surrounding woods. "Miri, wait, it might be a trap!" he calls out to the woman before going after her, leaving their prisoner in Theora and Zisel's care.
Arriving at her sides, he stares down at the form laying in the snow. The belief he holds that they might have met a new threat is quickly replaced by a look of curiosity as he notices the woman's claw. Still, he draws his sword, just in case.
"Sooo.. who might you be?" he makes a short pause before asking more questions in a uninterrupted manner "What might you be? What are you doing here? What happened to you? Did the three over there hurt you?"
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Rubbing her temple as those around her come into focus. She speaks in a gruff voice, "You make my head hurt more. I am Yeva Tashanna. They call me wisselkind. What I am doing is waking up with a headache..." She lets her eyes take in her surroundings. "Yes... they caught me surprised." Searching around, "Where is my stuff? Who and what are all of you?"
Zisel sighed and looked down at the man. "I suppose I'm being a little demanding for a stranger, aren't I? I'm Zisel. A woman that you lot roughed up before I fled across the snows. You'll forgive me if I'm taking this matter a little personally..." Zisel's words trail off as she watches Grimkell and Mirri run after a form in the snow. They'll handle it, she thinks before kneeling down in front of the bandit. She's not sure if he's fully recovered from Mirri's colorful display, but it would probably be nicer to see a face instead of imposing figures when he did get his vision back.
"So, let's start smaller. Who are you, and what does your... gang? Sure, you know what I mean, call themselves? Any sort of public manifesto?"
The man glances nervously towards Mirri and Grimkell before licking his lips and saying, "I've never seen you before. I had... I had nothing to do with whatever was done to you. My name is Jacob, and uh, we don't have no special name or nothin' we just go where we're told and if we do good we get paid."
Mirri offered a hand to help Yeva rise and said, "I'm Mirri, and this is Pym," she gestured to the sprite on her shoulder, "we're trying to rescue a noblewoman who was taken by the bandits." Her expression became appologetic as she said, "As for your stuff, well, I don't know, maybe it's on the dead ones there?"
Grimkell withdraws a step away from Yeva, smiling slightly. He waits until Mirri is done speaking, still focusing on the clawed woman. Once she is done, he continues.
"No need to be so humble, here is Mirri, elven sorceress of the far north friend of the sprites, there is Pym, sprite, warrior, and guardian of Mirri. Over there is Mother Theora, whose age has not dimmed the sight or affected the steadiness of hand, she is an archer extraordinaire. Next to her is the mysterious Zisel, controller of eldritch magic. As for me, I am Grimkell, son of Ogmundr, lorekeeper of the tales of the north. I am the one who will immortalize the deeds of these people. " he says, his voice filled with pride until he gets to the last sentence, which he seems unconvinced about.
His sword still in hand, Grimkell watches over Yeva, waiting for her to stand.
"As for your items, they might be with your assailants. Any idea why they attacked you?"
"Right, let's get moving, we have stuff to do." Grimkell says, pointing with his sword toward the trail they came from. He taps his foot, waiting for Yeva to stand up and head toward Zisel and Theora before following suit.
Zisel remains by the bandit, Jacob as she knows him by now, and shakes her head. Most bandits weren't more than disorganized groups of ne'er-do-wells.
"Any idea who was paying you for this job? Were you privy to that sort of information?"
She keeps a half an eye out over Grimkell and Mirri, curious to the on goings over there in the snow.
With the mystery of the movement revealed, Mirri heads over to the bodies and obtains the clothing, finding the pieces that best fit her and cinching the rest as best she can. She takes the rest back to the others and waits for Zisel to finish her interrogation.
Pym takes flight, leaving Mirri's shoulder and flies circles around Yeva's head picking at her hair and sniffing her. "You smell of home."
The bandit looks at Zisel again before his eyes flicker back over to the large woman now risen from the snow. He licks his lips again and says, "We just do what Rohkar says for us to do. He saw the ladies caravan and figured she'd fetch a good ransom I guess."
"Rohkar you say... Interesting. How many of you are there, and are you all camped near by? I'd rather not get surprised by a horde of people looking to stick an arrow in me.
Grimkell laughs out loud at Yeva's question, before looking at her.
"You presume much, I did not invite you to join us. I asked you to walk to the path so we're not in the middle of the woods... oh, and we are not thugs, we are a rescue party... as for afterwards, let's just settle that elsewhere."
The man squirms and shrugs, "I don't know, there's 'bout nine or so of us left. Some of them are real sick so they probably won't be a bother to you. We're hold up at the High Sentinel Lodge, it's not far thatta way." He nods his head towards the direction you've been heading. "You're gonna let me go now, right?"
Zisel pats the guy on the shoulder before looking up to see if any of the others had heard.
"That's about all we need from him. Will we let him go? He's been reasonable."
It doesn't take Yeva very long to spot her belongings where they were cast aside after her assault. Pym continues to flutter about Yeva, "Yes, home. Your people call it Irrisen."
Grimkell watches Yeva as she searches for her lost items before guiding her toward the path. There, he makes sure to stand right behind her, making sure she does not make any brusque or suspicious moves, and also looking her up and down, still curious about the origins of the hulking woman.
His attention is drawn away from Yeva when Zisel asks about the prisoner. First, he looks at Zisel, uncertain, before staring at their prisoner.
"I heard the conversation from the forest. Not sure about his fate though. He is no really a coward, which makes him dangerous, but he is not really loyal either, otherwise he would not have spilled the beans so quickly. I guess we could just let him go... even if he gets back to his allies, the tale of us slaying two of them without provocation and so quickly should break down their morale. On the other hand, he could simply flee, which would also be good for our reputation. Yeah... I am willing to let him go. One thing though, who are the High Sentinels? Your group?"
the High Sentinels has operated out of a fortified lodge
at the top of Red Run Gorge in the Border Wood, charged
with guarding the forest against Qadiran aggression,
lest Taldor’s ancient enemy use the wood to hide another
invasion force. Over time, however, the continued lack
of hostility with Qadira dulled the sharpness of the
Sentinels, and most of the unit’s decorated veterans either
retired or moved on to other posts, leaving inexperienced
citizens of Heldren and the nearby cities of Demgazi and
Zimar to fill the rangers’ ranks. The Sentinels turned
their attention to more local matters, hunting down
bandits who used the forest to attack trade routes in the
southern prefectures of Taldor.
"We've done enough. I say we let him go," Theora agrees, standing and brushing the snow from her greaves. Bones and leather alike creak as she stretches, large hands placed in the small of her back. "As for you, dearie, let's get a closer look. Yes, just like that." She pokes and prods Yeva, clicking her tongue. "Well, this won't do at all. Are you in any pain, mmm?" Sootfeather watches curiously, apparently not used to meeting so many new people.
"I have no problem with letting him go." She turns to look at the man and says, "But if we encounter you in a similar situation again you won't be so lucky, understood?" She turned to the others, "I gathered these from the dead, they should help us against the weather." She holds out two more sets of cold weather clothing, "They're probably a bit big, but cinched down enough they should work alright."
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With all in agreeable, Zisel loosens the man from his bindings.
"Seems you'll get a second chance today. Hopefully you'll use it to redeem yourself in the eyes of the gods," she says to him. "I recommend that direction." She points back the way they came from, away from his companions.
Turning to Grinnell, she shrugs. "Used to be an order of Rangers who kept watch from Qadiran threats. But seeing as there is very little of that, the attentions turned to more local matters. Such as hunting bandits in the first. Almost seems ironic that the bandits are using it..."