Slugoth watches the bandits flee and is tempted to chase after them but thinks better of it. When he links back up with the group he is quite and withdrawn into a contemplative state. Was this what I had been doing to people, I know it was a matter of survival and we justified it by comparing it animals... the wolves don't weep for the deer. But... if we as orcs wish to be seen as more than animals clearly we must act like it...
Arriving at the caravan the feelings of guilt from past deeds of banditry of his own wells up again. Walking through the wreckage of bodies and wagons he shoos the ravens away. "You can have your feast after I leave."
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Cynerik bends down low as he searches through the ruined wreckage of the caravan. One side of him knew that the dead deserved peace yet the other knew that the living could not be so picky as to ignore what little good fortune that they could come across.
His attention is drawn to the holy book laying upon the ground, unmarred and undamaged from the terrible atrocities that had occurred around it. His fingers traced over the front of it slowly and it was then that the wind lightly blowing from the North picked up in power and blew harder.
"Carry my name." Said a voice upon the wind, making Cynerik's head jerk upwards. In the tree line, among the dead, he swore for a moment he saw a beautiful young woman holding her stomach. The soft blues of her clothing were soaked with red, as if a hundred blades had pierced through her stomach. Yet Slugoth crossed in front of him and the sight of her disappeared, just as the cool wind faded and let the stentch of the dead take over once more.
"Praise be..." Cynerik murmured, taking the book and slipping it into his backpack. It seemed that Brinda and Slugoth were still searching through the dead and he returned to helping them find what they could. Scrolls, a potion, a crossbow with ammo, two blades, and enough food to keep a man alive for a week. It was quite the haul and even though the smell of the dead lingered on these items, Cynerik couldn't help but smile softly at their fortune.
"It seems that God has given us a small respite. If we had the time, we'd bury the dead but with those bandits still in the woods..." He'd let the thought drift off, the results of their wickedness laid strewn about them. "We should take what we need, the dead don't care for their possessions after the end." Gesturing to the weapons, he'd give a nod. "Whoever thinks they can use them best should use them. I've got a good sword arm myself but I know I'm not the only one. Same with the crossbow, I know how to fire it but I'm not the best shot." He made no real mention of the scrolls, their magic strange and unfamiliar to him. Looking to the others, he waited to see what they had to say.
Disappointed by the circling, but there is merit to salvaging from the dead. If uncomfortable.
Jexen pipes up.
"I would take up the sword again. I offer my dagger to any who require one. I do not to you taking up the book."
He glances at Cyrenik as he speaks.
Cynerik looks at his backpack, thinking back to that event just moments ago. There was this strange moment of possession that took hold over the man, his eyes looking down and away as he spoke. "I saw something...someone, when my fingers traced over the cover." His eyes returned to Jexen's again, a quiet but a fierce determination in them. "I saw Astrid, her stomach red but her eyes pure. I saw her watching us and there was no hatred in her stare, no judgement. What was did was not greed...but survival." It was at that moment that he felt foolish to a degree, his words more like that of a madman than a reasonable man. "I'd like to keep the book. A little faith wouldn't hurt our chances, after all." Looking to Slugoth, he'd give a nod and gesture to the other sword.
"Take the blade. You live up to your fierce reputation and I would not wish to give our enemies an advantage by not having you ready." He'd reach down, patting his own dagger for the moment. "I'll keep myself safe."
Once the rest of the weapons were sorted, Cynerik would wait on the road in direction where Fletcher's Calling was supposed to lay. With one last hoist of his backpack, he'd give a small prayer to the fallen and hope their souls had been blessed to travel through reincarnation and be born to better hosts.
Brinda picks up one of the scrolls and peers at it, nodding as she deciphers the magical text, fully engrossed in divining the hidden structure behind the magic. In her mind, a door opens, just a chink, sending a thrill through her body, before the feeling fades. The theories of magic that she has studied begin to give rise to a new awareness in her, and a feeling like... a mental muscle, weak but present, that begs to be used. She blinks, and the world around her crashes into her senses once more. Brinda looks around, unaware of how long she has been staring at the scroll, wondering if anyone noticed.
Moving to TAS, she asks, "How are you feeling? Do you need a wind up?"
Seeing all the dead bodies of the caravan makes T.A.S. shiver - a weird mechanical movement and a metallic rattle. This could have been Mary he realizes when seeing a half naked dead young woman with shredded clothes and a big wound from a stab in her neck.
After overcoming the first shock he spots a potsherd in the womans hand. T.A.S. could feel a magic aura around the sherd. On the second look it was a incantation - without doubt. T.A.S. picks up the blood tainted piece of clay. The magic felt.. unfamiliar. He never saw or experienced magic of this tradition before. He began to read the symbols and words but then realized where he stood. Quickly putting the sherd into his pocket he went back to Mary and Brinda. He would clean it and show it to them later.
"I'm feeling unpleasant around here - we should try to gather some food and maybe equipment for the journey and leave. Mary wound me up after we scared off the bandits but thanks for asking!"
"Thank you Cynerik, I shall put the blade to good use..."
"If we head in the direction of the road I believe it will take us to near where we fought the bandits, we maybe able to scavenge some more gear that may have been dropped as the fled."
Slugoth begins heading the opposite direction he was just pointing...
There was a reluctance in the group to take part in some of the items, it seemed, and Cynerik could not blame them. There were dark mishaps of taking from the dead, stealing what little they had left. Cynerik knew the preciousness of the situation though, shouldering the crossbow onto his form and taking the case full of bolts.
"If anyone wants to use these, just let me know and you can take them instead." The man offered, taking the potion of healing and strapping it to his form as well. He looked back at the ruined wagons and the bodies that laid strewn about the road. They needed to get moving or else they would suffer the exact same fate.
"This way, we'll keep heading down the road towards Fletcher's Rest." Cynerik murmured, taking point again. The crossbow felt heavy and reassuring in his hand, his eyes scanning the treeline as he walked.
Brinda walks beside Cynerik as the party gets on the move again. After some minutes, she speaks. "Cynerik, I... We've been travelling for a little while now, and it's nice to know that you can be relied upon. Back there, with the bandits.. Well, when you're brave, it makes me brave. I want you to know, you can rely on me too." She speaks awkwardly, and seems to be finding it difficult to say the words, but sounds genuine nonetheless.
You travel upon the road, heading in the original direction your caravan was moving. You're finally making good time, when the road becomes a little indistinct from the foliage and you manage to lose the path again.
Fortunately, you haven't encountered anything dangerous. But there is a bit of mist to the north of you that seems to linger despite the increasing temps.
Cynerik was walking along the road, trying to ensure that that when the forest swallowed the path, they didn't loss sight of it. When the sound of footsteps came up along him, he'd look over his shoulder at the young woman beside him and give a soft smile despite the still resonating pain in his side.
Her soft voice broke the silence and Cynerik would listen in closely for the moment, the woman's confidence in him making him blush ever so slightly. Compliments were not something he had ever been used to, even when his family was still alive. Her words were sweet, kind, and the smile that lingered on his face wasn't forced now as he spoke softly back to her.
<b>"It wasn't just me, it was all of us. I would've been just like those poor unfortunates back at the wagon if it weren't for all of you."</b> Cynerik was stronger than some but he wasn't a fool, his body would be getting pilfered if it wasn't for the rest of them right now. Even his uneasiness around the goblins and the orc couldn't hold out to that unwavering truth. Cynerik seems to have trouble finding the next words that'll be right, his hand reaching out to gently grasp her by the shoulder. It was a slow movement, not too fast and certainly not too rough. He had already seen how rough men had treated her before.
"You've always been brave, Brinda. I trust you." The words were simple but heartfelt, as he released her and returned to keeping his eyes out on the horizon.
As they go along, Pork familiarizes himself with the crossbow that he snuck away from the loot pile. He notices the strange mist. "Uhh...isn't it like way too warm to be so foggy? That stuff is kind of creeping me out..."
As the group stumbles onto the remains of the caravan, Kandl gives Cynerik a "really?" look. Looking around, he notices a trio of human bodies, and taking a plank of wood from one of the wagons begins digging a hole on the side of the road. He digs what becomes three shallow graves, and as he climbs from the hole, two things are obvious: The board that he is using as a makeshift shovel has cut his hands, and he is openly and quite quietly crying.
He moves to the first body and slowy drags it into the first grave, then follows suit with the second and third body. When he pulls the third body into it's grave, he unties the ribbon from around his arm and lays it to rest along with that body, which is the body of a young Human girl.
He then proceeds to cover their remains with dirt.
Once he is finished, he says something quietly over their graves, then turns away from them.
Other than the mechanical sounds of making the holes and moving the bodies, Kandl makes no noise.
Seeing that the others have finished their looting, Kandl rejoins them, saying nothing.
"We should investigate the mist, and make sure there is no one else in danger."
When he saw Kandl begin to move some of the bodies, he couldn't help but watch the strange creature do what he was doing. It was only when he had dug the first grave that he realized what the goblin was starting to do. He was almost flabbergasted by the fact that tears ran down the goblins face and when the next body needed help, Cynerik would've moved to try and help as best as he could. If he was pushed away, he wouldn't stop him from continuing as he did, only waiting till they were done and buried.
Taking out his book, he'd open it up and look through the hymns. Quietly and out of practice, he'd recite one of prayers he had heard so commonly after a skirmish was fought.
In your hand now God
We humbly entrust our brothers and sisters
In this life, you embraced them with your tender love
Deliver them now from every evil
And bid them eternal rest.
The prayer is soft and careful, a few of the harder words taking a moment for the common man to say or read. Closing the holy book, he'd give the goblin who silently returned to the others a new look. His appraisal of him was wrong, much like the demeanor of the orc who fought so viciously to save himself and the others. Not sure of what to say, he made his way along the road with the others.
Having traveled along the way they came, he'd stop only for a moment to grab the abandoned shield upon the ground for one of the two fighters with swords in their hand. Soon after though, they'd come along this strange mist that lingered in the air. A frown spread across his face and a chill down his spine as he thought about what terrible things could be inside of it.
Kandl suggested investigating it and while the fearful commoner in him said to run away, the other side of him pushed him to do what was right as well. The goblin was showing greater bravery than most men he had ever met, himself included.
"Let us investigate, someone could've been hiding in there. Be careful though, these woods hold stranger and more terrible things than just bandits." Quietly, cautiously, he'd move to approach the mist and try to not be noticed. During his travels along the road, he had encountered bandits and vicious creatures before. Caution and stealth were better allies that fighting and he had long since learned how to make his presence less noticeable.
Pork shrugs. "If we're gonna be going into the spooky mist, wanna trade? I noticed you'd picked up a nice-looking crossbow earlier and this thing," he shakes his staff, "Is a bit heavier than I thought it'd be. I'm a pretty decent shot, I've gotta be better at that then whacking people at least."
Brinda doesn't shy from Cynerik's friendly touch on the shoulder, but returns his kind smile. From then on, she walks lightly, but with purpose.
Brinda eyes the mist distrustfully. "Do we have to go in there? I see no point but to put ourselves in more danger," she states bluntly.
Cynerik turns back to the small goblin with the strange face, looking down at the weapon in his hand. It was heavier than his dagger was and it exuded a form of confidence and safety he didn't have before. The staff was a fine weapon though, one he had trained with before when the military was trying to train their sorry batch of peasants. Pork could see the reluctance in the human's eye as he handed the crossbow over, the man taking a deep breath before he nodded.
"Sure. I will take that staff instead. Just make sure to use it well, friend." If one goblin could show such empathy, why couldn't another one? Cynerik would take the staff, testing it a few moments before looking down at Pork with a smile. "Why don't you take my knife too then? We can't have you being sneaked up with nothing up-close to defend yourself with, right?" If they were fighting together, it was only right to make sure that he could as best he could. That extra skill could mean the difference between life and death and Pork's death could mean Cynerik's as well.
Brinda was speaking the wiser words; nothing good could come from this but when running from death, people would find strange places to go.
"That may be true Brinda but it also means that the bandits are likely not in there either. If we can save any other lives, we'll be better defended should they attack us again." It was right to help one's neighbor, to protect those that couldn't protect themselves. Gripping the wood of his staff tightly, Cynerik would look at the others for what they thought.
T.A.S. shakes his head. "Whatever waits in there might be even worse than those bandits. We got a girl " - worried he looks at Mary - "and a baby with us. We should bring them to safety as quickly as possible."
You move north to investigate the strange mist. Tendrils of mist crawl out in thicker areas, while you keep to the thinner Misty areas.
The light fades the thicker the mist becomes, to the point where the lighting conditions change.
Time: 1 pm
Lighting: Shadows
Make a Perception Challenge Roll
As the group makes its way into the misty area, Brinda begins to notice the dead nature of some areas. "Look," she tugs on TAS's arm. "Where the mist is thick, nothing lives. The mist, it kills." Her voice sounds strained, and her steps slow somewhat.
Jexen plods along, lost in thought. He had taken time at the caravan site to feed the baby - and to think while the others acted.
So I was a marine? That fits. The caravan, a disaster. Surely we could have done better? But no, at least some of us survived. And may yet survive.
When Brinda speaks up, he snaps out of his thought.
"Kills? What?", and glances around with worry etching onto his face.
Brinda points wordlessly to a particularly heavy patch of fog... and the limp, grey grass and the dead trees in that area.
Furrowing his brow, "we chose poorly, Slugoth says grimly.
Unconsciously trying to shield the baby from the sight of the mist, Jexen replies:
"Let us turn around. This mist is too dangerous to go near."
Pork blinks in surprise, clearly not expecting the human to give him his knife as well. "Huh. Uhh...thanks!" He's a bit shocked at the generosity of Cynerik.
Pork sees pretty much exactly what Brinda sees, and stops walking without a word. He immediately checks behind them, making sure the mist hasn't closed in around them.
"[b]Oh, you all must be mad. Yer goin' into that fog?[\b]" Sköllji states bluntly as the group begins walking into the mist.
He grunts, noticeably upset, but continues in with them anyway. Half of 'em ain't even got the eyes for this. And they say dwarves are stubborn.
When Sköllji notices the the don't plants, he covers his face with a meaty palm and yells for everyone to back away.
Stepping into the mist, Cynerik would keep his hands tight on the staff as he looked around. The sounds of the forest grew softer and softer, silence taking their place. He stops when he hears Brinda's words, his eyes now taking in the dead trees, buried bones, and withered plants.
"Kandl, I do not think anyone is hidden in here. Let us leave." He says quietly, agreeing with the rest of the party in retreating out from this dark place. Something unnatural tainted this place and he could feel a cold sweat begin to run down his back.
Everyone moves back away from the fogs, and you don't think there are any noticeable effects.
You make your way back into the forest, where the light from the sun filters through in greens and yellows as it passes through leaf and dust. The light seems almost welcoming compared to the mistake, and the life has returned to normal.
Even those who didn't previously notice can now tell something was wrong simply the return of the sounds of forest life.
Brinda nods at Cynerik's words, her blue eyes wide. "Yes," she whispers, her voice tremulous with fear. "Let us leave."
Kandl accepted Cynerik's help with a nod of thanks, but no words.
Kandl was disappointed that the others were unwilling to enter the fog and find it's cause, but he was not quite willing to push the issue as yet. When they turned around, he did so as well.
Brinda suggests that the party stay close to the road, but off it, travelling parallel.
You make your way through the forest, intending to keep near the road but off of it. Despite your best efforts, you find yourself back on the road itself. And you're not alone.
A single bandit stumbles out on to the road as well, from the opposite side. He locks eyes with you, frozen, would what you'll do.
They wander away from the from the mists, the lifeless place that sent a chill down his spine. Brinda was leading the way back when they returned back to the road itself, the hard-packed earth bringing him a sense of comfort. It was faster and perhaps more noticeable on the road but bandits were mundane dangers, not like the terrible things he had grown up hearing existed deep within the darkest hearts of the forests. Cynerik was about to speak when a man wandered out of the forest, alone and unaccompanied. His eyes widened in shock at the sight of the party and Cynerik felt an opportunity rise.
"Hey! Stay right where you are! If you move, you die." The man would bark out like a soldier, used to shouting at the the untrained common folk. The bandit had the look on his face like so many others did; uncertainty and fear upon it. Here, he was hoping the man wouldn't be foolish and bring the ire of the party upon himself.
Pork stands next to Cynerik and draws his crossbow. He wordlessly points it at the bandit.
Jexen draws his sword and holds it where the bandit can see.
And his other arm cradling the bundled baby where he hopes the bandit cannot see.
The bandit holds his hands up, freezing in place. I.. uh.. yes.
Cynerik keeps the staff close at hand, stalking closer to the man. When he didn't try to lower his hands, Cynerik would whisper to the others.
"Keep an eye on him, skewer him if he does anything strange." Cynerik would work on disarming him of anything dangerous and useful; weapons, shields, even armor if he was able to. Once the search was done, he'd switch around and nod at the man.
"Where are the rest of your fellow killers? Where are they hiding?"
Jexen keeps his sword pointed.
Luckily his sword arm would not ache like a human's would.
Handy for a killer., he thinks.
Kandl draws his dagger as well, and holds it like a blade before him.
The bandit looks a little scared. P-please don't kill me. I'll tell you whatever you want to know! The camp is s-southeast of here. About eight miles.
He slowly starts to back away from you, closer to the forest.
Brinda speaks up, holding her scroll at the ready. "We won't kill you for no reason... But trying to run away would certainly give us a reason. Don't make me unleash my magicks on you." Though she looks ratty, and was shaking with fear as the party wandered through the mists, her voice is strong, if a little forced. Her face is taut, and displays an expression of faint distaste.
Sköllji slaps his club into his hands a few times, "Aye, yer lucky me mates ain't as 'eartless as yer crew. Slaughterin' womenfolk and children. I suggest you take their advice, 'cause if ye don't then I'll get to break yer legs. An' I'll take me time... I can promise ye that..."
The dwarf had been threatening people his whole life. A shopkeeper here, a rival gang leader there. He had gotten pretty convincing, but it had never been personal before. Just business. This time was different though. The images of the dead children with their eyes pecked out. All compassion had left Sköllji's eyes. He almost wanted the bandit to ignore his warning.
Cynerik sees that the bandit is about to take off and run, Sköllji stepping in close and there was something in the dwarf's eyes that was fearsome. He had a new appreciation for his companion at the sight of this, glad that someone with as cold of eyes as him was on their side.
"Your friends have done awful things. Unforgivable things. If you expect any kind of salvation after your death...or mercy in your life...you stay right there. We have more questions to ask." Cynerik's anger colors his words, unable to keep his emotions out of them. He could be a coward at times, a survivor even more so, but he believed that doing the right thing was always the proper course. It was hard to balance those opposing sides; doing good and the instinct to survive, but in this circumstance they were aligned. There was nothing he wanted more to do than to beat this man's brain in for what he and his comrades did. That anger resonated alongside Sköllji's coldness, increasing the threat.
"We'll either have to take him with us or otherwise maks sure he does not tell them where we are." T.A.S. says cold-blooded. He does not like the thought or having him around or to unecessarily hurt him but they could not take any risk.
T.A.S. also prepares the scroll he found. He didn't have time to fully study it yet but he learned the effect the magic should have. And he will use it if the bandit makes any attempt to flee.