The imperious woman shrugs aside Connacht's tentative musings with the force of a whirlwind. "In any case, clearly he knew something of import. And unless you think you are very lucky, he was merely a random bandit captured during your successful defense of the caravan. We simply need to find more of the bandits to learn what this one knew. It seems simple enough to me."
For the first time she seems to notice Dlain and says, voice slightly thawed, "It is good to see you on your feet Dlain. None that I am not disappointed in your service to me and this town." The foreman bows low at her words, and the few workers scattered around do the same.
"Certainly." Connacht says, responding to the suggestion to capture more bandits. It was still a viable strategy, after all, although now that the bandits knew he was here it was going to be harder to pull off. The opportunity of an ambush had been lost, perhaps for good.
Not to mention, we'll need to wait for another caravan as bait. It wasn't an ideal situation by any means, but he could only play the hand he was dealt.
The imperial agent can only watch and wait as the Lord rebukes her foreman. A part of him wanted to intervene, but he expected any punishment Dlain would be minor- at least she understood that it had not been mere dereliction of duty that had caused her foreman to fail. Connacht continues to stand their awkwardly as the silence ensues, waiting to see what exactly Lord Sabnus was planning on doing next.
Lady Sabinus clearly grits her teeth when Connacht fails to say anything. Clearly she had expected something. Rolling her slim but powerful shoulders she says frostily, "Well, how many of my men do you need, Imperial Agent?" Connacht gets the feeling she rarely has to ask people for things.
Her words are met by silence, so she goes on, as if speaking to a child. [b]"For seeking out the bandits. We surely cannot allow them to attack Wheldrake and my very own estates with retribution. we must go out and root them out of whatever hovel they are cowering in.
Sesser steps out of the springhouse without saying anything but watching Connacht and the noblewoman with obvious interest.
Connacht is somewhat taken aback by the sudden turn, having assumed that Dlain would have some response to his Lord. Doing his best to respond to the situation as quickly as he can, he says, "Umm.. Two of your men with skill at arms should suffice while I go to scout them out. I'll need around 15 minutes to prepare, then I'll depart. I want to root them out as well- and I'll see to it whoever's responsible for this- the Imperial Agent says with a gesture towards the spring house, and the human remains inside, "is punished for it accordingly. Just need to find the bastards first."
"I don't suppose you'd still be willing to give me a hand when I go out into the desert? It'd be nice to have you watching my back for a bit longer" He turns to ask Sesser as he returns from the spring house.
Lady Sabinus nods, clearly pleased at the promise of immediate action. Clearly she isn't one for waiting around for circumstances or random chance. "Excellent. I shall have the men at the caravansari in a quarter of an hour. May your hunt go well, Imperial Agent. I will guard the town in your stead, in case any bandits try to attack in your absence." She looks coldly pleased at the turn of events.
She whirls off, followed by Dlain and the other two orchard workers. Meanwhile Sesser looks troubled saying, "Who knows what you may find in those hills. It was no ordinary bandit that smashed that man's skull in." The weather beaten caravan guard rubs his chin and says, "I'll have to clear it with the boss. Even in town, I am under the merchant's contract."
A moment of silence then, "Do you want to clue him in?"
As if the bandits would be foolish enough to attack the town in broad daylight when they know we'll be on alert. It seemed implausible, to put it mildly. Then again, they had attacked so close to the town, and had apparently smuggled an invisible spell casting Gorilla- or something to that effect- through the town to kill their witness.
He makes no move to challenge the Lord's 'triumph'. It just wasn't worth getting in her bad graces over such a petty matter.
Connahct considers Sesser's proposition for a moment. "You're right about that. There's clearly some magical chicanery involved here... but still- the gaggle I thought earlier seemed to scatter fairly quickly, and besides, I'm only scouting them out today."
"If you don't mind, I'll leave that decision at your discretion. If you're able to come along, meet me at the caravansari. I'll be there soon enough. If not, I understand. " He wanted Sesser to come along, but didn't want to be viewed as influential in encouraging a man to break his contract. With any luck, the issue wouldn't be raised.
Then again, he hadn't exactly been lucky since he arrived.
That taken care of, the imperial agent makes his way back to the caravansari- but not to meet up with the forces Sabinus was lending to him just yet. "What do you think the odds are that we'll find whatever it was that caused that mess back there?" He muses to Derwyn on his way to back to the center of the town. The animal can only offer what could be best described as a noncommittal whimper.
"Yep, that's what I thought."
Sesser shrugs, "Just thought you'd might want to limit who knows what. Serva Rallus will ask questions, you an be sure of that. he plays at being a simple trader, but the man has a canny mind. Be mindful of him." Connacht gets the feeling the hard caravan guard cares very little for his employer.
The trip back to the caravansari is quick, the druid no longer following others and the crowds seem to have broken up. The caravan itself has made a small camp near the building, the ruins seemingly unable to hold all of even this small company in comfort. Just walking past Connacht hears muttered rumors of the murder but obviously nothing yet of his plan to find the bandits.
Connacht wasn't surprised to hear the whispers and rumors from the crowd- they were only natural in a case like this. It's bound to be seen as a big shake up from an otherwise mundane life. On its own, such rumors would be nothing more than a conversation point for local gossip- with everyone having their own pet theory on what "really" happened, long after the case was safely solved.
That is, if the case was solved. If it was left unchecked... well sometimes what began as an idle rumor could turn into a more viscous one. We're lucky it's only a bandit that got killed- had it been a local this could wind up being a lot more messy. He'd never had to deal with mob "justice" directly- but he knew from stories about how bad it could get.
The sooner whoever was to blame was brought to justice, the better.
He makes his way into the caravansari, and even with the magic protecting him from the worst of the heat it's refreshing to return to the shade. He makes his way back to his room to grab a few things necessary for the ritual he was about to take before heading out of the building once again, and making his way to the edge of town.
Better late then never. He'd have to start waking up earlier for this if all his days were going to be this busy.
Connacht is caught before even leaving the building, walking through one of the disused hallways of the rambling, half-ruined caravansari. Trenzi is there, once again wearing his threadbare, moth-eaten robes of offices as if it was a suit of armor against the increasing chaos of the day. He seems to have forgotten the wig though, his thin air spread out in afrizz over his balding scalp.
'What is going on?" he says directly, much of his carefully constructed court manner temporarily displace. "They said the bandit you captured is dead? Was it someone in town? Did the bandits attack? Is it a siege of the town?" He takes a step closer and lowers his voice, "Should I be worried about my life, and those of my family?" There is a faint tinge of hysteria in his voice, probably a bit more then the situation warrants, in Connacht's opinion. Then again, the druid was more innrued to murder and violence then most.
"There is no need to worry," yet Connacht begins addressing the frantic bureaucrat that had managed to corner him on his way out of the caravansari. "Whoever did this had a very specific target in mind, this was likely something to do with internal discipline within the ranks of the bandits."
Connacht gives Trenzi a brief rundown of the more recent events that had occurred- not dwelling for two long on the magical nature of the attack, but still informing the official of the pertinent details. "Whomever was behind this wanted to be swift and cause as little collateral damage as they could. Dlain- a potential witness- was at the mercy of whoever did this but came out otherwise unscathed. If they weren't going to harm him, I don't see why they'd be going out of the way to harm you and yours."
Trenzi's face screws up in disgust at the description of the dead body and the 'clues' Connacht found. Finally he says, "Very well. Perhaps you are right, you do seem to have experience in these matters. But please, keep me informed if your opinion changes." He still looks quite concerned and Connacht has a feeling the man is a born worrier. However, he seems slightly mollified by Connacht's help.
The druid heads outside but is stopped once again, right at the threshold. This time the interruption takes the form of the flamboyantly dressed dwarf, who had so enthusiastically joined his fight against the bandits on the road. he bows low, so his dyed beard brushes the floor, "Orkum Brightbeard, at your service. I offer my blade for your quest against the bandits." he straightens, eyes burning with barely repressed joy. "I'm sure we will show them what for, eh?"
Connacht takes in the sight of the rambunctious dwarf and figures out how to respond best to his arrival. It wasn’t every day that the imperial agent got people bowing to him, after al. ”The offer is appreciated- I have no doubt in your ability to fight. But today isn’t the day I’m going after the vagabonds directly. First thing that has to be done is scouting out the vagabonds and finding out what hole they’ve crawled into to lick their wounds from earlier.”
Eager fighters- at least those with some experience- were both a blessing and a curse. Recklessness could be just as disastrous as cowardice, especially on something as delicate as a scouting mission. ”If all goes well today, the bandits will have no idea we even left the town, and I aim to keep it that way. The time for more dramatic action will be later. That said- if you’re willing and able to help me with that task today, it’d be most welcome.”
Adventurerous types could always be helpful... the only issue was if they would ever wind up with their own definition of what help entailed. Scouting missions were by their nature particularly lacking in opportunities for glory, and the last thing he needed was someone trying to create an opportunity for to achieve it.
Orkum smiles knowingly, "Of course! Every brave attack is prefaced by a daring and cunning reconnoiter, deep into enemy territory.If you will have me, I pledge my life and my blade to you!" he bows again, clearly unaware of how awkward it makes Connacht feel.
"I suspect we shall have them hanging in the city square by sundown tomorrow?" He offers, standing back up. 'I can't imagine they are hidden that well. Picking on isolated caravans is one thing, but a determined attack should have them running."
At least he's on board with that. Connacht thinks to himself in relief- although such relief was more than a tad undercut by the swiftness by which the dwarf pledged his life to him. He was no paladin of Alseta or Abadar, but he knew that such grand pledges ought not be thrown around so lightly. A simple offer of assistance would have sufficed, and at this point a more tactful dwarf would have realized his lack of enthusiasm of the issue. "I will have you then, Brightbeard. Sesser and two of Lord Sabinus's men will be meeting me back at the caravansari in less than a quarter of an hour, be ready to head back out into the desert. "
The hanging bit, he was a tad less sure about- there could be better ways to handle such miscreants. But for the moment, he focus on the second and indeed contradictory part of the dwarf's statement "I don't doubt they'll run, but that's what I want to avoid. If they run, they might regroup. Find a better hiding spot, learn to cover their tracks. With any luck, before long all of them will be in hand, and that will be that. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have one last preparation I must make before we set out."
Finally. The imperial agent thinks to himself as he and Derwyn make their way, relieved after being inundated with several unexpected interruptions for the past few minutes. Is it really so appropriate for the servant of the god of community to be so pleased at venturing out in solitude like this?
Well, not everything was meant to be communal. Even Erastil acknowledged that.
By the time he reached the glade, he was already beginning to sweat, even with his magic protecting him from the harshest of the sun's rays. The shade of the trees near this small spring, however tenuous, was quite welcome. In less than a moment, Derwyn already placed himself at the edge of the small spring and had sunk his face into the water. "Smart boy. I've got half a mind to do that too."
But the Imperial agent had more pressing matters to deal with. Time was running out before the rendezvous, and he found himself regretting not instructing Sabinus to have her men meet him in half an hour. He begins the work of digging up 5 small holes in the earth with his hands, placing a small seed in each, and covering them up once again. On a normal day, he would have stayed at the site of the ritual to pray for a few moments. On a normal day, he would have done this right after waking. On a normal day, he wouldn't be in the middle of a desert.
Nothing he could do about that now though, at least not at the moment. He had a job to do, after all. "Come on boy. Obedient as ever, the wolf made his way back to his masters side and the two of them returned to town with haste.
He hoped Erastil would bless his hunt today. He could use all the help he could get.
Despite the chaos of the day, some measure of calm returns to Connacht as he kneels on the ground, dirt on his hands. It was always strange, praying to a god of community while alone but then again....His task was to protect this village, using their own resources and authority. Connacht had a feeling Old Deadeye would smile at that, at least.
At least Derwyn approved, loping easily through the thin undergrowth.
The day was hot and growing hotter. Leaving the partial shade of the grove was like stepping into an oven, and Connacht was already sweating freely. At his side Derwyn as stepping lightly, enjoying the plunge into the wild but was also panting.
Behind him toiled the rest of his little band. Orkum was second, the eager dwarf's steps nearly quivering with excitement. Dressed in his somewhat flashy clothes, any fears Connacht had about a gleam from his gold braid or painted beard soon vanished under the thin layer of dust that soon enveloped them. if nothing else, nature was providing camouflage, free of charge.
Behind hims truggled two stout farmhands the Lady Sabinus had 'loaned' him, strong with broad shoulders. They looked so much alike Connacht thinks they are brothers, or at least close cousins. Lothar and Carlo, they had introduced themselves as, and both had axes hanging at their belts.
Bringing up the rear was Sesser, the weather-beaten man looking the most at ease in the blistering heat. He had a long clock tossed around his shoulders, making him looking like a Qadira tribesman or some other exotic figure out of a distant story. His step was firm however, and his eyes bright. Connacht felt better having this man at his back, even if he was more mysterious then the druid would have liked.
"Where to, first?" Okum says, voice carrying far too loudly over the empty dry slopes of the hill above the grove. "Which way?"
Before setting out into the desert, Connacht takes a few moments to properly introduce himself. "Thank you all for coming, especially on sort notice. Please, just call me Connacht for now." No need to insist on being called "imperial agent" in front of this crowd. With any luck his expertise in the field would be enough to earn their respect. "Our objective is to find wherever the bandits went without letting them know we're trying to track them down. If we're spotted and a fight breaks out, don't hold back, but we aren't looking to fight the lot of them just yet."
"Shhhh." Connacht hisses as politely as he can to the enthusiastic dwarf. "Sound travels far across the desert. Be careful." Under normal circumstances, this would have been followed by an order for the dwarf to hold his tongue... but the dwarf's presence here today suddenly made the whole matter political. With his ties to the caravan, it wouldn't do to order Brightbeard around, whatever melodramatic oaths he had taken just minutes beforehand. "This goes for all of you- try to keep quiet, wherever possible."
"We'll be heading to the sight of the skirmish first, where the caravan was attacked. Given that the were pretty thoroughly routed, I doubt they had any time or inclination to cover their tracks. Hopefully, we can just follow those right to whatever hole they'll be hiding in." With a hand gesture, he beckons for the group to follow as he continues through the desert.
Everyone nods at Connacht's cautionary words for silence, and Brightbeard's face reddens, not with anger but with embarrassment. Connacht gets the feeling his most eager recruit is very keen on preforming well in this hunt.
Sesser nods but remains silent, the harsh sunlight showing every scar and wrinkle on his weathered face. He is an imposing figure in this light, more like a statue made of leather then a living man. Lothar and Carlo mutter agreement, looking around as if they expect bandits to jump out from any rock but Connacht doesn't think they are too frightened. Not yet anyway.
Connacht leads the way over the small valleys and uneven ground, avoiding the Endless Way. It takes much longer this time, not having the advantage of his child-like guide (and his starting point is more awkward). They have to climb a few small rises, the slopes gritty sand and the peaks a sharp spine of rock. It doesn't take long for him to realize most of his companions aren't used to this type of hard labor. Lothar and Carlo looks like strapping men, with strong muscles but clearly marching under the desert sun over open ground is not familiar to them. Orkum struggles manfully but his short legs do him little favor. Only Sesser's pace stays firm and his breathing easy.
Soon they reach the sight of the skirmish, and Connacht quickly picks up the trail of the bandits leading into the dry hills, heading away from Wheldrake.
While he hid the emotion, Connacht was glad to see the dwarf feel embarrassed. Brightbeard might be a glory seeker, but at the very least he didn't seem to be so full of himself to ignore all criticism. That, at least, he could work with.
As the group continues marching through the desert, Connacht begins to second guess himself over the wisdom of having such a large group with him, but at the end of the day reasoned it was for the best. It would be a setback if they were spotted, but a greater one if he wandered out into the wilderness and never came back. At least we'll all earn the feast tonight.
As the group finally reaches to the tracks, Connacht speaks, again in a soft voice. "Well, that's where we're going. They'll have had to seek shelter somewhere." Connacht says to the rest of the group as he points to the direction of the clear tracks. "Keep a look out."
With that, he begins heading after the tracks, doing his best to make sure he doesn't loose them and to keep a look out for anything unusual along the way.
Connacht takes the lead, bending low over the trail. The ground is hard but dusty and the bandits were not very careful in their mad scramble to escape the fight. For a time, the way is clearly shown, leading up a dusty slope and then along a dry valley. The rocky walls loom up on both sides of them, but Connacht only has eyes for the trail. Derwyn also seems eager, sniffing here and there where some bandit may have sat or rested momentarily.
Connacht is forced to go slower then he otherwise might have, due to his slower allies.Otherwise he might have missed the marker. Near the end of valley, where the trail seemed to lead up into some rocky heights, there is a small pile of stones. To the untrained eye it was nothing special but to Connacht, it sticks out like a cockroach on fine linen.
The rocks are piled in such a way to signal a spring is hidden off to the left. What is shocking is, this type of 'trail sign' is only used exclusively by followers of Erastil. Even more interesting, there are fresh marks here, leading to and from the spring, that seem newer and different then the bandit tracks.
Someone else is in these dry hills.
Connacht is mostly silent as he continues scouting the trail out. There was only so much he could do to explain what he was doing- he was tracking the bandits. It was going to be slow work, probably, and he didn't want to imagine what those who had no environmental protection magic cast on them were feeling from the sunlight. But it would have to be endured.
The druid stops and blinks in surprise at the Erastilian trail sign found near the bandit tracks. Well, I know there is at least one other follower of Old Deadeye in Wheldrake. There had been the recent offerings on the shrine at the caravansari, and of course what Aaran had said about his family.
Finding some huntsman or tracker out here would be the most likely outcome. But he couldn't be too careful. Besides, maybe if there was someone at the spring when the bandits came through, they might have seen something of note. After gesturing for Derwyn to sit, Connacht addressees his deputies, once again keeping his voice low. "There are a different set of tracks here I need to investigate." He points out the separate trail to them before continuing. "I shouldn't be more than a few minutes. Wait here in the mean time."
With that, Connacht makes his way after the tracks to the left of the pile of stones.
Some of the others start to protest at their guide leaving them behind but Sesser silences them with a grunt. The caravan guard then finds some shade to wait in, clearly understanding the druid had things under control. The others, less happily, follow his lead.
Connacht follows the side trail, looking for clues. He finds little. After the easy and blundering path of the bandits, whoever went this way left few signs. The only reason he is able to follow it at all is due to the fact it is an old, worn track, with the spring being a frequent stop for this mysterious stranger.
Soon he finds it, a small trickle under a dark rock overhang. A few rocks have been stacked to create a small pool, a tiny glittering reservoir among the bare stone. A small rivulet runs out and is instantly lost in the dry ground. Derwyn, after sniffing the water, starts to drink. There are a few small signs of human use. A small wooden cup is wedged on a high ledge, and a larger stone is worn somewhat smooth from someone sitting on it. And then, Connacht sees something which lifts his dragging spirits. Up under the overhang, out of rain and weather, is a simple but clear chalk drawing of Erastil's holy symbol.
Below it says, in Common, Welcome, all strangers of the wilds. Drink your fill, the water is safe. May Deadeye watch your steps.
Connacht gives an appreciative nod to Seesser for helping to quell dissent among the rank and file. He would make a good deputy. Shame he'll be departing when the caravan does. In all likelyhood, there was nothing he could do on that front- the man was under contract, after all. He was fortunate enough that he (and Brightbeard) were willing to go out of there way to help him here.
As the Druid reaches the site of the spring and sees the signs of life, a faint sense of familiarity fills him. Of course, it wasn't quite the same, but there was a sense of peace here he didn't feel in the surrounding countryside. But it was re-assuring to know there was a small sanctuary in the wild.
Regardless of who made it. The thought came unbidden and unwelcome, as his mind drifts to the remarks Aaran had made earlier. Connacht does his best to not dwell on that subject for now.
"Thank you for this blessing." He says simply- the thanks being directed both to whoever posted the sign and to the deity they both served- as he reaches up for the cup and uses it to get a small drink from the spring. It wasn't strictly needed- he had prepared a cantrip that would allow him to create water, but it was rude to refuse hospitality when offered.
As soon as he's finished with the drink, he takes care to place the cup back where he found it before making his return.
"All clear that way." Connacht says as he returns from the spring. "Just a spring some trapper must use as a watering hole, nothing for us to worry about." With that, he's back on the trail, Derwyn taking his que and following the druid once again.
The water from the spring is cool and sweet, with none of the acrid or metallic tang he expected. In fact it tasted far better then the water he conjured up, a richer, fuller taste. A blessed taste perhaps?
However, it gives him no wisdom or information, so Connacht heads back his group. Finding them unharmed (not that he expected anything), they take up the bandit trail again.
It goes farther then Connacht expected, winding up some rocky, shale-covered slopes. The sun beats down mercilessly, and soon the ground itself is radiating heat.Still, no one asks for a rest or tries to stop. Everyone knows the danger the bandits pause and are happy to be doing something about it.
The trail is stronger here again, the bandits coming this way often,and he spots other small feeder paths leading in. They are getting close. Finally, Connacht watches the trail turn downhill sharply into a steep valley. Edging forward he sees the valley is green below, one of the small wooded areas, sheltered by rock walls from the dry desert-y wind and probably fed by a larger version of the spring he drank from. A good place for a hideout.
Connacht backs up from the trail once he spots the verdant valley, opting to use the landscape as cover. Gesturing for the rest of the group to halt while still out of view of the valley, the imperial agent surveys his surroundings, looking for any signs of life, hidden lookouts, or the like.
Connacht heads back towards the rest of the group and addresses them, and where his voice had once merely been quiet it is now reduced to a whisper. "Just over the ridge is a valley, filled with trees and covered with shade, and likely with it's own water supply. With all the tracks leading into the place, odds are it's where the bandits are hunkering down."
As he speaks, he grabs a small clump of earth from the tracks they've been following, shaping it in his hands. "Now, I'll be using this to preform a quick ritual. It's magic, but it's just something that helps give me a bit more information about the surrounding area, nothing to be worried about." The explanation is mainly for the sake of Lothar and Carlo. Sesser and Orkum had likely grown accustomed to seeing strange magic over the course of their travels, but people who'd spent their entire lives in the village tended to act cautiously when people started speaking strange languages and making weird symbols. Seeing the village priest healing a wound was usually the most contact people ever had with magic, and in his time he'd found that explaining his magic often helped in helping people accept it.
To a point. For now, he was just grateful he didn't need to summon anything from another plane.
The druid moves a further away from the valley before taking a seat on the ground. . "Keep a look out while I'm occupied, if you would." He directs the rest of the group before beginning the ritual.
Connacht carefully looks over the lip of the valley but sees no look-outs or other dangers. Either the bandits are lazy or they lack the discipline to post a constant guard. Or they are confident for other, unknown reasons....
As Connacht expected, when he announces to his allies that he is about to use magic, Lothar and Carlo both takes a few steps back among some larger rocks. Even Sesser raises an eyebrow and carefully maneuvers a waist-high boulder between himself and Connacht. Orkum however looks excited and gets so close Connacht is forced to have him take a step back.
"Is this some kind of holy ritual for your god?" The dwarf asks, "Which one was it again?"
The others keep a watch, as Connacht rolls the ball of dry earth in his hand, leeting the feeling of ti flow into him. It was a sort of trance really, communing in this strange way. Slowly, he saw images in his mind, floating into view. It wasn't that Connacht could suddenly see all the ground around..it was more like he suddenly had old memories of the terrain. The older the feature was, the clearer it would be. Rocks, caves, cliff faces were clearest with plant life more vague and the doings of men or animals barely noticeable.
Focusing, Connacht learns something of the valley ahead. Much is as he guessed. A narrow defile, no more then fifteen or twenty feet wide between two high rock walls, overgrown with plants and trees, a real oasis among the desert. To his surprise however, he learns the valley only has one entrance/exit, the trail they are following. The other end of the valley simply runs into a blank wall of cragged stone, too steep and high to climb by mundane means. Their is a strong spring and a small pool, along with....something by the water's edge. A cave, some sort of impression int he stone. The earth is confused but whatever it is, it is very old.
He can, of course, sense nothing of the bandits or their doings.
"Well, in a manner of speaking, yes. But its a tad more syncretic than that, but I can explain more when we're done with the mission." Connacht explains to Orkum after asking him to step back. "I serve Erastil, though." While at any other time he'd be happy to speak at the subject at decent length, now was not the time.
While he didn't regret giving the warning about his magic, Connacht suppresses an eye roll as he notices the rest of the group starts seeking cover. Even Sesser, which honestly surprised him a little bit. "That's... never mind." It wasn't worth the effort to correct at the moment, so the druid goes ahead with the ritual anyways.
Connacht gets up from the ground as the information from the ritual enters his mind, and he tries to make sense of the geography of the valley. Waving over to the rest of the group, he begins addressing them. "Here's what we're dealing with." Pulling out a spare arrow, he makes a map in the dirt outlying the surrounding features of the valley, and does his best to describe the interior.
"Now, as we don't actually know with certainty that this is where the bandits are, at least one of us is going to go into the valley to see if it has. That'll be me- I have a bit of magic that will help me move around unseen as well." He wasn't relishing the opportunity to walk into the den of thieves, but there wasn't another option just yet. There would be hell to pay if he dragged Sabinus and her soldiers out here and it turned out the bandits weren't here after all.
"There's one more thing I want to check though, and this is where you might be of help Sesser." Conncaht points to the far end of the valley on his map, where he had seen a mostly sheer rock wall. "The more people we have scouting, the faster things will go. I need someone to see if any sort of exit has been constructed by the people living down there. A rope ladder, something out of wood, carved stone, anything really. There's no need for you to ever step foot in the valley, just walk around it to the other side, well out of sight of any prying eyes. If you feel like it would be best to take one of us with you, feel free to do so."
Connacht didn't plan to be in the valley for very long. All he needed to do was confirm that there were still bandits residing here. Given how long the valley was, he would prefer not to risk trying to make the journey from end to end. But if someone could simply walk around the entire thing, out of sight from any prying eyes, then he could learn the most important detail about the far end that he could want to know.
Namely, if a militia went marching into entrance of the valley, would the bandits be able to escape out the other side. It seemed unlikely, given how steep it was. But even if the bandits had some sort of "back door", a few men with crossbows positioned on the far end of the valley would be able to ensure that such an escape would prove lethal.
Of course, there was always the risk of them slipping into some tunnel or another. But there was little he could do on that front.
Orkum nods, clearly eager to hear more but understanding this is not the time or place. However, the druid has a feeling the word 'syncretic' goes well over the dwarf's head.
They all gather around as Connacht, literally, sketches out a rough plan. All of them seem relieved the druid is volunteering to actually go into the wooded valley first, although no one seems ready to back out or run. Better then Conancht expected, honestly. This type of work wasn't for everyone.
Sesser looks at the crude dirt drawing, glances around the rock at the barely visible valley itself. "You are sure the other end is a rock wall?" A pause to consider his fellow companions. Then he says, "I will go alone, one man makes less noise. We will meet up back here? Depending how far into the valley you go, you might return before me. I have to go the long way round."
Lothar then says, voice rough, "What if one of you doesn't come back? What is the plan then?"
Orkum looks scandalized and says, "We rescue them, of course! We can't leave our allies at the tender mercies of the bandits!"
"As sure as I can be, given the spell. It's more useful at describing natural terrain as opposed to things built by living creatures. Maybe the bandits carved some sort of pathway up the wall, but in truth I'm not expecting much more than a simple rope ladder, if they even have that." Connacht explains to Sesser. He nods at his decision to head off alone- it was probably for the best, but it wasn't something he was going to force on the man.
"You probably will come back later than I will, given the distance." Connacht agrees with Sesser's assessment. "It'll still be faster than if I have to scout out both the valley and then try to asses the far side of it. The sooner we're back in Wheldrake, the better."
For a change of pace, Connacht finds himself appreciating the dwarf's enthusiasm. "Well, at least in my case, if I find myself discovered and unable to hide, I'll be making use of this." The imperial agent pats the holstered firearm on his side. "Orkum, Sesser, you've both heard the sound before. If you hear this go off, it'll mean I'm going to be making my way out of the valley as quickly as possible, quite possible with bandits coming after me." Turning to Sesser, he says," If you aren't back within.. say, 15 minutes of leaving here, that'll be our cue to come after you. If anyone spots you, just focus on making it back here as fast as possible- that'll be confirmation enough that the bandits are holed up here. If all goes well, we both meet back up here and we all make our way back to Wheldrake. Any questions?"
No one says anything, looking from Connacht and then around the rocks to the just visible rim of green around the valley. Who knows what was in there? Few of the villagers ever left the small confines of Wheldrake and while Orkum and Sesser were (presumably) well-traveled, they also stuck to the Way. The back country of the Nomen Hills had a bad reputation and for good reason.
Finally Sesser says, "Let's get to it." Glancing directly at Connacht he adds, voice low "Good luck."
Connahct nods his head as Sesser speaks. "To you as well." Before heading off himself, Conncaht gestures for Derwyn to sit down. Heading over to the beast, he scratches the wolf behind the ears before saying. "Stay. I'll be back before long."
Gods willing. At least if worst came to worse, he might die with a bit of shade over his head and surrounded by trees. There were worse ways to go.
Doing his best to push such morbid thoughts aside, the druid begins making his way towards the entrance of the valley, doing his best to remain out of view to any watchful eyes in the vale below. Before long, he decides that no more suitable cover remains and he casts a simple magical detection spell before casting invisibility.
The later spell would be of obvious enough use. But the former spell was utilized for the sake of caution. There was no clear way for him to rule out the bandits having magic of some sort at their disposal, not after what had happened to his witness back in Wheldrake. With any luck, it would turn out to be pointless, but in Connacht's judgement it was better to err on the side of caution where such powers were concerned.
Now out of sight, Connacht heads down into the valley, following the trail leading down into the valley.
The wolf whines slightly as Connacht orders it to stay. Derwyn never enjoyed being left behind when the druid put himself in danger, and while Connacht had never quite figured out how much the wolf understood, clearly it sensed the possibilities ahead. But it remains behind and part of Connacht thinks, the most relaiable part of this little band, Sesser perhaps excluded.
Indeed, the weathered caravan guard was already gone, moving among the rocks of the hill side, slowing making his way to the far lip of the valley. Even Connacht, who had good eyes, could barely make out the man, and his vantage was better then any bandit lookout. Maybe this plan would work. Or at least not end with all of them killed by bandits.
Connacht, invisible, ghosts down the trail. It weaves between rocks before plunging steeply down the slope. As he walks downhill, rock walls start to rise on either side, almost like descending a staircase. After the wide open desert, it almost feels claustrophobic, and the dry wind dies away.
Around him plants start appearing, first stunted, dry things sheltered behind a boulder or pile of rocks. Little more then desiccated bushes, but as he descends life quickly becomes greener and fuller. In only a few moments the simple dirt track (now clearly visible to any eye) is winding between small tree trunks and flowering bushes. The scent of growth is in the air, and humidity on Connacht's cheeks. How long had it been since he had felt that?
Still, despite the pleasant change of scenery, Connacht doesn't lose his focus. The valley was not very long, and somewhere up ahead were at least two dozen bandits, hidden by the greenery. It would not do to literally stumble on them. He bends low, looking for clues.
He does find tracks in the damp earth, so much better for holding sign then the dry sand and rocks above. Plenty of them, some old and some new, a trampled mishmash of coming and going. But that isn't the interesting part. He also finds, somewhat hidden, a line lying across the road. In a few moments Connacht has figured it out.
It is a rather crude trail trap, more designed to make noise and slow down an attacker, not seriously wound him. Interestingly, while fairly well made, it is broken and neglected from disuse. Judging from the weeds growing through it, it has been months since anyone has reset it.
This place needs to be put to good use somehow. Connacht can't help but think to himself as he finally enters the valley proper. The valley felt like a small slice of heaven compared to the rest of the desert.
Even with the distraction, however, Connacht keeps making his way forward into the valley, keeping his wits about him. Seeing the wire and the trap it's attached to, he makes a mental note of it while continuing to move forward. They're lazy too. That helps.
Then again, if they were so lazy, what got them to go through the trouble of building it in the first place. It was a simple trap, sure, but well made none the less.
The question is put aside as Connacht ventures deeper into the vale. Speculation could begin after he sorted out what else lurked inside this place in the time he had.
Connacht leaves the trap behind undisturbed. Around him the trees and plants grow thicker, as if trying to fill every space in this small hospitable oasis. The main problem is not water, because Connacht can feel the damp even though his boots, but sunlight. The valley is narrow and only a thin strip of light reaches the plants, and most of that is taken up by the trees. Connacht visibility is limited and only occasionally can he see the rough rock walls on either side, pitted and cracked from ancient wear....or something else? Part of him thinks he sees a pattern there, something angular and unnatural but now is not the time to look. Certainly not made by the bandits, even if there was something.
Then, without much warning, he steps from behind a gnarled old oak and is greeted with a small clearing, in what seems to be the widest middle of the valley. Ringing the tiny clearing are a few ramshackle wooden and thatch huts, looking much the worse for wear. Again, they seemed to have been well-made at one time but have since fallen to neglect.
In the center of the clearing is a huddle of men (and a few women) around a well-concealed campfire, clearly in the middle of some argument. The firepit, which seems dug into the ground is cunningly built and placed to hide the smoke and Connacht is impressed. He doubts, even with his experience, he could have done any better.
A few others are scattered around the small camp and Connacht quickly counts about twenty. The babble of voices rises indistinctly, some point or other being made but without getting closer Connacht can't hear anything for sure. He sees no signs of guards or a picket. The thin trail leads on, deeper into the valley. Connacht does not see the bedraggled looking noble man that seemed to be the leader at the attack.
Connacht does his best to attempt to listen in on the argument from outside of the clearing, but to no avail. He knew he would have to get closer, and so he begins making his way into the clearing, hiding behind one of the huts, out of sight from the group with or without invisibility, and continues trying to listen to the conversation.
Information is power and Connacht needs all the help he can get. getting closer is a risk, but being invisible, a small and acceptable one. The druid circles the clearing, using the crumbling huts as cover, as well as the more outlying trees and brush.
Connacht finds a decent spot and pauses, eavesdropping on the on-going conversation.
"You think they'd let us live? You are an idiot, Slim." A rough, unlettered voice disparagingly, "No, we can't do that. Not if we want to keep on breathing."
"Yanmiss..." Another voice says, doubtfully.
"How many idiots do we have in this camp?" the first voice says disparagingly, "Even if we could go that far, what do you want to do, spend your life shoveling horse crap until someone finds out who we are?"
Cutting him off a female voice says, "We gather together and attack the town. Torch the place and take everything worth stealing. Hells, maybe even set ourselves uup as kings of the place."
"Veary, you're one mad bi-" The first voice starts but 'Veary' cuts him off.
"Why not? What is Wheldrake but a few mud huts? All of you act like it is a castle or something, but I've seen it. Just a few old buildings falling down and a fat old noblewoman who probably gets her hair done bys ervants every morning. We could rob them blind!"
"Feross said..." A young voice pipes in, but says nothing else.
There is a long silence but then the first voice says, voice gentle now, "Ah, I wouldn't mind the Boss so much now Pip. Spending time at the diggings at a time like this...ain't right." A mutter of agreement. An uneasy quiet falls over the group as they each ponder the little debate. Connacht has the feeling they have been chewing the same fat for awhile now.
The imperial agent listens in on the conversation, doing his best to process everything important being said. Between the two plans presented (moving to Yanmiss and raiding Wheldrake directly), Connacht suspects that the third option- sticking with the status quo will ultimately win out. Clearly, this debate had happened before and would happen again- unless, of course, something was done about them.
She should be greatful I’m the one listening in on the conversation and not Sabinus herself. The Druid highly doubted her Lordship would be pleased to hear Veary’s assement of her.
Knowing that time was running out, Connacht opts to stay hidden for a bit longer, hoping that the conversation will pick back up again. Talk of the “diggings” interested him, and any more information on the subject could prove useful.
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Connacht hunkers down, wanting to hear more. For now his invisibility holds making him virtually undetectable. He cranes his head, listening to the voices, which start up again.
"If Mia were alive.." The young voice, Pip says.
"Mia's dead!" The harsh voice says then, as if instantly regretted quickly says, voice soft, "She's been dead for what, six months now? It ain't easy but we have to move on..."
"Boss ain't been the same since." Veary says, voice a mix of pity and disappointment.
"Not easy to lose someone like that. Not least because she was keeping us alive out here. When was the last time we had a full meal?"
A grumble of agreement throughout the crowd, although they seem sullen at agreeing with the rough voice. Clearly he doesn't have any strong supporters, whatever his points.
Then, Connacht spots a figure emerge from the other end of the path. Tall, with a lank build, a man dressed in the same dirty clothes as everyone else. As he approaches the group, one of stands up.
A bulky man, with a bald head but a long bristling beard spotted with gray. His stance is aggressive, hostile towards the gangly figure coming down the path.
"What is it Llhar?" The bulky figure says, and Connacht recognizes him as the owner of the harsh voice who disagreed with everyone. "You done following a mad dog?" There is a moment of strained silence, followed by relief as if he has said something everyone was thinking but afraid to say.
Llhar pauses, and says, voice clear but edged with anger, "The Boss has found something, Dravin"
Dravin laughs harshly, "I bet. You still believing him? After all of this?"
Llhar shakes his head, visible even to Connacht, "No, Dravin. I've seen it, it really is something!"
A babble of confused voices from the group, others standing up, some shouting. Just then, Connacht's Detect Magic spells ends, showing his invisibility is just about to run out.
So their leader is on the ropes. That... could be good or bad. In the grand scheme of things, it would change little. He was still going to head back to Wheldrake, get a militia raised by Sabinus and raid this valley. But their leader just became a bit less predictable, and who knows what that would ultimately mean.
The imperial agent's interest is piqued as the newcomer arrives, speaking about their leader finding something. But as the detect magic spell ends and the commotion breaks out, the agent takes the opportunity that presents itself he makes his way out of the clearing while the bandits are distracted, moving behind some more distant cover. Once he is certain that he is out of sight, he carefully begins to extract himself out of the valley, doing his best to remain quiet and hidden. It wouldn't do to have come so far only to be caught on his way out of the valley.
Before leaving, however, he stops to check one last thing. Once suitably far enough from the clearing, he takes a few moments to examine the side of the valley wall that had seemed so strange to him earlier. Maybe it was nothing, but it couldn't hurt to look at it briefly.
Connacht slips away, and the furor behind him fades away, lost among the trees. Re-tracing his steps along the worn path, the druid backs up the valley. Carefully, he leaves his track however and, after a few steps through deep underbrush, finds the valley wall.
He examines it closely, looking at the strange formations that caught his eye earlier.
They aren't natural, Connacht is almost sure of that. They are old however, so old as to be nearly vanished under weather and wear. As the walls here are protected by sand and wind (with precious little water) Connacht can only guess how long it took for rock carvings (?) to erode like this. Thousands of years? Tens of thousands? Looking along the wall, the formations look clearer and slightly more defined the deeper into the valley one goes.
There is something else, over-written on it, very old but not as impossibly ancient as the underlying formations. But the druid can't make any of it out, except it looks oddly familiar.
...huh. The imperial agent isn’t all together sure what to make of the valley wall, other that it just didn’t sit right with him. Between this, the magic attack at Wheldrake, the talk of the bandit leader finding something, there was clearly something going on behind the scenes. Somewhting he wasn’t aware of.
But for the life of him, he had no clue what it was.
Frustrated, he makes his way out of the valley. There’ll be time enough to stare at walls after the bandits have all been rounded up. The thought is comforting, but only somewhat so.
Connacht heads back up the valley, moving up the steep slope as quietly as he can. Like a magic trick the trees around him shrink and grow browner, less vibrant as he heads toward the blazing desert sun. Soon the druid is back in a world of bare rock and sand-like grit. While the landscape wasn't high desert, it feels like it after the lush oasis below. Yes, shelter from the wind and water often caused such pockets of riotous life, but whatever was in that valley seemed....more so.
Soon he finds Orkum and the others, who looks very relieved to have Connacht back. Sesser isn't there yet and Connacht is forced to spend a few tense minutes trying to debate how long it had been, since the caravan guard left? But before the druid is forced to decide anything,t he scarred man emerges from behind a boulder. He glances at Connacht and is obviously relieved saying, "Good, you got back first. I was worried I wouldn't be able to hold them back from a 'rescue mission' if I arrived first."
He finds a small rock in the shade and sits down, sweating freely. Unlike Connacht he hadn't got to stroll down a garden path, but instead had traversed open country, dodging among boulders and steep scree slopes. As he catches his breath, Derwyn comes over to Connacht and lays his massive head on the druid's lap.
"I made it to the far end." Sesser says, after his breathing has normalized. "No ladders or paths or anything out there, just a sheer cliff wall. "
He pauses, hesitating then plunges on, "I didn't get a good look down into the valley, I didn't want to risk being spotted, but there are no trees at the end. Not sure why, but the very far end is open to the sky and a strange...mist was rising. Very faint and faded the instant it hit the hot air up here. Any idea what that is?"
Connacht is relieved to see Sesser return in one piece, and agrees with the caravan guard's assessment of the rest of the present company but opts not to say as much aloud. As much as he wants to return sooner rather than later, he allows the older man time to recuperate in the shade, also offering the man a drink from his canteen. "Well, what matters is we both made it back. Pharasma will have to wait just a bit longer for us. "
As he absentmindedly pets Derwyn, Connacht mulls over Sesser's description of the far end of valley. "Not entirely sure. The entire Vale thing was really humid when I went down there. It was refreshing- I can certainly see why the bandits would want to hole up there. But " Connacht shakes his head. "It ain't normal, that's for sure."
The druid pets his wolf a few more times before standing up again. "We've got what we came for. Good work all of you. No sense waiting out here anymore, lets head back to town and get a proper roof over our heads."
Everyone eagerly follows Connacht's order. While all of them seem to think going after the bandits is the right thing to do, that doesn't make them any more comfortable at being out here, alone, out numbered ten to one. Not to mention the painful noon heat, which seems to be only growing in intensity.
The way back is quiet, except for Orkum who peppers Connacht with questions about the bandits. How many there are, what did he find out, what defenses did they have, and everything else he can think of. Sesser, Lothar and Carlo seem content to husband their strength (and no dry out their mouths) by staying silent, as they scramble over bare slopes back toward Wheldrake. They reach it without any further problems or interest, Connacht keeping an eye open for either a tail or other trail signs.
Soon they are back under the trees of the Sabinus groves, enjoying the shade. Sesser pauses her and says, "I will head into town, to speak to Serva, and help organize the caravan. I have a feeling you will need everyone capable of holding a spear or handling a bow."
Without waiting for Connacht's permission, the weathered man heads off into the green gloom of the orchards. Carlo shudders and says, to his brother, "That guy gives me the creeps."
Soon they find themselves at the manor home again, the sun just starting to arc into the west. For the moment all is quiet and empty. Orkum says, "We are meeting them in town?"
The druid does his best to answer the dwarf's questions once they're further away from the valley. He'd seen enough of them and their negligence that they weren't the type to have spies listening to them behind every desert hill. And if they did, they'd probably find the conversation too esoteric by half.
"Good." Conncaht says as Sesser makes his way out of the orchard to talk to the merchant. Truth be told, he had not expected an additional offer of help with the raid proper, but the imperial agent was not about to look this gift horse in the mouth. "Orkum, why don't you head with Sesser and help get the fighting men of the caravan ready. I can meet up with you at the caravanasari later and let you and Sesser know what the plan for going after the bandits is."
And lets hope Sevra isn't feeling particularly stingy today. The merchant making trouble and preventing the members of the caravan from participating in the raid would make things more difficult- but either way, he would just need to make do with the situation at hand.
Connacht watches Orkum head off into Wheldrake proper. Once the dwarf has departed, the druid turns to the brothers who followed him for the ranging. "No need to worry about Sesser, Carlo. He's good people, as they say. And if nothing else, be glad he's willing to wield a blade for us and not for the bandits."
With the two men of the caravan departed, Connacht heads up to the Sabinus estate and knocks on the door, hoping that the aristocrat would be inside. The sooner plans for the raid were discussed, the better.
The door swings open, to revealing not the Lady Sabinus but instead her son Alexius. The tall, good-looking youth is dressed in a well-oiled mail shirt and helmet, with a short sword at his waist. Due to his small frame, pale skin and general awkwardness the effect is more amusing then imposing. It is obvious to Connacht, just by how the young man is standing, that he had no idea how to use a sword. If Alexius wanted to match his rather more formidable mother, he still had a long way to go.
"Follow me, Imperial Agent. My Mother wishes to hear your report post haste." A pause as he looks over the dusty and tired looking druid with obvious distaste. "Try not to bring any more dirt inside then you must."
He spares only the briefest of chilly glances for Carlo and Lothar not even deigning to speak to the two farmhands. Alexius turns around and leads the way into the dark, cool manor home.