Crytalis dishes up a heaping bowl of stew for herself and Colin. As he and Brumir speak she contents herself with scarfing it down in a most unladylike manner. She does send a wincing smile of apology to Brumir when mention is made of her magic trickery.
As Colin leaves for the stables she traipses after, but not to look at the horses. Instead she heads to the stalls where the bandits are tied up. For awhile she watches them, her internal debate evident in the way her teeth catch and chomp on her bottom lip. The golden eyes that finally shift from the unconscious men to Colin hold a glimmering of guilt.
She rushes from the stables, through the yard, and up to where Crumbs lies sleeping. Very gently she seeks to shake him, "Mr. Crumbs, I don't think I can do it. You have to come get answers out of them. Colin is too honorable and well...I don't know how to skin someone alive. We can wait until night if you would rather."
Crumbs cracks an eye and says"I was only kidding about skinning them alive, lass. Sorry to disappoint. But look on the bright side, I'm sure that Colin will squeeze it out of them eventually."
Crytalis's face falls, betraying her disappointment and sudden self-doubt. A clench of her jaw sets her determined mask back in place and she leaves without another word.
Her journey across the yard is much more somber than her previous dash had been. She stops at the bunk house, reaching far into her pack to retrieve her bone carving kit and the sharp knives contained within. This she sets on the bed and adds in some clean cloth for wrapping, and the borrowed needle and thread. She swoops them up and returns to the stables.
As she enters through the door her eyes, as always, seek out Colin first. After they brush him though, they avoid him. She drags a bucket or bench, to serve as a table, to a spot just outside the stalls and sets out her items. It is Happs's stall she enters first and checks on the man's condition.
Happs' eyes are half open, staring at the floor of the stall. He sits against the back wall, arms tied behind his back, ankles tied together. Dried blood crusts his tunic and pants. He doesn't respond to Crytalis entering the stall.
Colin finishes up looking over the horses, removing a rock from one of the bandits hooves with a soft tut-tut. He glances up to see Crytalis walk by and then leaves to tell Oleg which steeds they're going to keep.
Walking over to Svetlana, he says, "We'll get your ring back. I promise. We also have to make sure that the rest of that gang doesn't come back for revenge."
He offers to help with the washing up and adds, "I had some questions about some of those other postings. Do you think we'd have time to ride out to those moon radishes and back for you to make them for supper? I suppose we could do it in about 3 hours each way. Plus the time for pulling, I guess."
"And," he finishes, "Who is this Vekkel Benzen? Where can we find him or her? If it's the same vicinity as the moon radishes maybe we could take care of both in the same journey."
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Crytalis stands for the longest time watching poor half-dead Happs. Finally, with an irritated sigh she goes and collects some water and broth. Returning she kneels beside him. She shakes him into a more alert state and lifts the waterskin to his lips."I don't want to torture you, Happs, well okay I really, really want to remove your skin and see how a person moves...how muscles work and such. And organs..I am fairly certain if I cauterize the wounds as I go I can make it to the heart before it stops beating, layer by layer. But Colin will not be happy, and I like making him happy." She lowers the skin, either deciding he has had enough or because he is not drinking.
She turns her attention to his wound, ripping at the tunic before standing to dampen one of the clean cloths. As she wrings it out she talks, more to herself than him,"Colin is a deep sleeper though, and I know the others would help me bury the evidence...why people die in their sleep all the time, he needn't know the state the body is in when we drop it down the hole." She returns to Happs, gently washing the blood from his wounds if he holds still. "That is how it shall be then, I shall wait until dark and slip back in, feed you just enough of the healing potion to keep you awake through the process...can't see how a skinless arm moves if you are not conscious to move it, can I?" she coos to him sweetly. "We shall have fun, you and I."
The gently held cloth washes over his wound, carefully cleaning it, "You have to stay alive though, no dying on me...and no talking to Colin either, if you help him he will want to protect you and it will all be ruined."nimble fingers wrap and bind his wound...if allowed and finally she stands, collecting her bloody rags. She drops a quick kiss to the top of his filthy hair, murmuring as she draws back,"I shall see you in the gloaming."
Weaving her way through the stables, she searches for Colin to whisper to him of her deeds. Before heading back to tend to the hung man's wounds.
Svetlana beams as Colin tells her of returning her ring. "Oh, you really don't have to. It's sweet of Oleg to have posted that, but it's just a ring. No sense in endangering yourself on account of it. But if you go to deal with those brigands and you find it, I would it be something to have it back." Then she hands Colin and pot to scrub. "Thank you."
Then in response to Colin's questions of the radishes. "It doesn't have to be tonight, necessarily. I just thought it would be a nice surprise for Oleg. Besides, when traders come through sometimes they've gotten some. Don't need to make a special trip for that either, I suppose. But if you brought some back, again, it'd be appreciated."
"As for Vekkel Benzen, he's just an old hunter that stops by here once in a while. He lives to the north in a cabin. He asked that if anyone were to bring that boar's head here, for us to keep it for him and he'd reward in turn. I expect he'll be here within the week, since it's been a short while since we've seen him. Can't say the same for that boar. I have no idea where that thing might be. I doubt Vekkel knows much more either, otherwise he would have posted it."
Happs drinks his fill but averts his eyes as Crytalis talks. When she mentions coming back while others are sleeping, he turns his eyes up and they widen in fear. "N-no need for that. Why don't I j-just tell you what you want to know?."
As she mentions Colin Happs stammers and gasps "Wait!" as she leaves, trying to sit himself upright and keeling over in pain.
Colin's tongue sticks out at the side as he intently focuses on a crusted bit of food in the bottom curve of the pot. He works at it until his knuckles are bruised a bright red, pausing only to listen as Crytalis breathes her subterfuge. As the last remnant is swept away, he looks up triumphantly. Then, seeing that Svetlana has finished the rest of the dishes and left to go pursue another chore, he puts the pot down to dry and heads back to the stables, pausing to snatch something up from the table and glancing at Brumir.
"Oh good, you're awake," he says, upon reaching the stall with Happs. "Crytalis told me she is going to take care of you. It may not be your lucky day, but I have to say I'm a little envious." He chuckles, good-naturedly.
His face turns somber, though, as he kneels down closer. "I have some sad news, though. Your friend Katty did not survive the battle. I wish you'd all seen the wisdom that Brumir saw and surrendered so all this..." he gestures to where Happs lay. "... could have been prevented."
"Still," he says, in his most stern voice, "You've committed crimes and threatened to do even worse. We've been authorized by the Regency to stop the banditry. They will want to hang you when the soldiers get here. But I'm willing to give people second chances when I can. There's enough suffering in the world. You've probably got someone who cares about you out there, right?"
He takes the silver stag skull amulet out of his pouch and holds it before Happs' eyes. "Did one of your parents give you this?" he asks. "Don't you want to see them again? I promise to put in a good word so perhaps you can just serve some time in gaol rather than dying. Tell us about the other bandits, Happs. Where to find them and how many they are. Please. At the very least, try to cleanse your conscience."
In the stall beside Colin and Happs, Crytalis smiles as she tends silently to the other bandit. It starts as a self-satisfied smile, growing wider as Colin does her bidding. As the kindness of his words drift up past the short walls of the stall the smile shifts, softening into one of those silly grins of the lovestruck. With a shake of her head and a roll of her eyes she whispers down to the other bandit. "You are the luckiest bandits I know...that it was Colin behind that gate."
She cleans the wounds as she listens to questioning beside her.
Happs keeps his eyes on the floor. "Not really. Only person I been close to lately was a woman named Kressle. I doubt she'll want much to do with me after all this...I'm thinkin' she just tumbled with me to get me brave enough to do something stupid like come up here."
He looks up at Colin, his eyes are bloodshot and still only half open, one more than the other. He breathes laboriously and sweat is accumulating on his exposed forehead. The stubble on his face is patched and greasy.
"I was given that amulet, but not by my parents. I haven't seen my dad since he took a bolt in this throat up in Brevoy. Never knew the old lady that squeezed me out..."
He sighs and then grimaces at the lingering pain of his wounds. "You want something from me?"
Colin realizes that he may have overwhelmed the injured man with too many thoughts at once. He stands and takes one of the horse cloths on the wall of the stall and wets it.
Crouching down again he mops Happs' brow and repeats, "Tell us about the other bandits, Happs. Where to find them and how many they are."
His eyes have difficulty focusing. He blinks them rapidly and looks to bring his mind back to the here and now.
"Well I suppose there are plenty that'd you'd call bandits that I ain't never met out here. Kressle talks of a whole fort somewhere but never said where, exactly. But down at our camp, a little less than a day's ride south-west of here, there was a dozen of us, including Kressle. That included those who came with me. Not counting that yellow half-orc. Wisdom? I think more like he sold us out."
Colin takes in the brigand's words thoughtfully, doing some math on his fingers.
"This Kressle is the one who favors hatchets? She's in charge?" he asks with a frown. "What kind of camp is it? Why is it even worth raiding out here? There is hardly anyone to rob other than Oleg, is there?"
"Yeah, Kressle likes her hatchets and she runs our little camp by the river. I guess it's pretty bare by Brevoy standards, but it's about as good as I've ever known." He breaks eye contact with Colin and stares blankly at the stable wall, losing himself in thought again.
His voice is dreary now. "I've been as far west as the River Kingdoms... got up into Brevoy a few times. Nothing too grand. We tried to avoid too much attention, which means we've never had much to call ours... guess those days are over."
Colin stands up and brushes the dirt from his knee. "Those days are over, indeed. Thank you for the information."
"After you've served your time," he adds, turning as he exits the stall. "Come back here and see how things are. If you're willing to work honestly, you can have an opportunity for a real life rather than another few months as a thug waiting for a bigger one to put him down for good."
He steps away but then steps back. "One more thing, Happs," he asks. "If it comes up, do you prefer me to tell Kressle you're alive or dead? You could either give her hope to see you again or give yourself a chance to be rid of her influence. One way or the other, I'll do my best to bring her down alive."
A soft rhythmic thumping can be heard from the other stall as Crytalis bangs her head against the wall. Giving up she flops down beside the bandit. "I am going to have to skin him after all, I just know it." she confides in him. "Or you. Rather Happs, always best to have a name when torturing someone I would assume." she shakes him. "Hey you, what is your name?"
Happs listens to Colin intently, but then thinks for a moment after and frowns. "Tell her whatever you want. She's got a mean streak and she was moving on before I left. Hard to nail down, that one. But me? My days are numbered now."
In the other stall...
The brigand remains unconscious, despite Crytalis' disturbance. Drool glistens on his mouth and his limbs hang limply at his sides. Dried blood stains his clothes as well.
Colin steps into the other stall and watches Crytalis care for the unnamed brigand.
"He's still out?" he asks, softly, as if it were possible to wake the man.
"I found out where the rest of them have their base, Cry. There are nine of them." He looks down for a moment. "I think we might be able to take on nine with the five of us..."
He counts on his fingers. "Just as long as they're out in the open, that is. Being outnumbered, though, we might not get the luxury of first offering them a chance to surrender."
He brightens up, though, from his frown. "We probably shouldn't leave until just before dawn though, so do you want to go for an afternoon ride and we can talk about things?"
"Colin!" comes her surprised gasp as she hurriedly stops shaking the man and begins scrubbing at him instead. "He was, ummmm choking." She pats the mans cheek. "Poor fellow." The rag darts down to swipe some drool from his mouth.
She continues tending him as Colin speaks, her face growing taut at the news of nine bandits. "Do you think perhaps it best to lure them here? They will come in search of their missing, probably."
"Can we look for radishes as we ride? I am out of spells almost, so any trouble will be...well troublesome."
Blissfully unaware of the nuances of Crytalis' tender mercies, Colin replies, "My thought was that if the came here, they'd be looking for trouble and be ready." He frowns. "That or they don't care to come at all and mark it off as a loss. Going to their lair may catch them unprepared for battle."
He shakes his head. "Well, we could, but I thought we might just play it safe and stay closer to the Trading Post. It wouldn't do to get injured before we ride out early tomorrow and the radish patch is three hours each way. It might be easy to visit it on the way back from the bandit camp."
She reaches for his hand, pulling herself up, "I would love a ride." She swipes her hands over herself sending motes of dust and straw dancing through the afternoon light.
Of the horses she takes little notice, pointing to the first one he brings her attention to, the chestnut with the darker mane and tail. She stands expectantly while he saddles the beast and lifts her onto its back, her hold on the reins still unpracticed. "I think I will name her...him...it.. Bandit."
With a soft call to Pim she lets her horse follow his from the stables and then the fort.
"Just stretching our legs for a bit," calls Colin to the Levetons, directing Joyous Storm to the open gate. "We'll be back for supper. Early morning tomorrow!"
Wearing his armor once again, Colin rides close to Crytalis' stallion she'd named "Bandit" to be sure she does not topple. He attempts to keep to flat ground and slight grades and resists Joyous Storm's strains to gallop and leap.
After some time, he leads them to a pleasant lea where the horses might graze. He offers Crytalis and hand down from her saddle, saying, "Have you brought your tools? I thought of the tattoo to remember Katty. A jagged line..." He traces a sawtooth line with one finger. "... and underneath it a curve, like a bow. Only, it's broken."
The crows have mostly dispersed now, the last of them fluttering into the air as Colin and Crytalis exit the post on horseback.
Away from Oleg's to the south and west a few hundred yards, they find a flat plain where the rusty brown is beginning to fade to a healthier green. The plains stretch away in all directions to the horizon, interrupted only by the wooden palisade. The sky is a blueish grey, with sheets of clouds splattered across it.
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She slides from the horse, purposefully making Colin catch her, before hunting for the driest spot among the greening rust grass. Crouching down, she spreads out a bright blue blanket filched from the stables, a stark contrast to the bleakness of early spring. Nearby Pim hops, hunting tiny insects and seeds.
At his request her hand falls to the satchel at her side, fingers feeling out the slim wooden box within. ”I have, though nothing to dull the pain or numb the skin. I do not think that is the experience you seek in any case.”
Deft hands smooth the folds from the corners of the blankets, her knees falling to rest on the edge. ”Bare your arm, love, and lay on your side. Or sit, if you think you can hold the position.” She pats the blanket before her before slipping the box from her bag. Leaning low over it she works the tiny catch and lifts the lid. From it she takes two small vials, one clear and one onyx, as well as a roll of cloth. Carefully she un-caps the vials, propping them within the box. She unfurls the cloth roll, taking out a long sliver of sharpened bone encased in a slim hollow reed.
Setting the reed aside she dips the tip of the sliver in the black ink, using it to sketch the design upon his bicep. With one hand she stretches the skin tight, ”Ready? You must hold still, now.” she asks by way of warning. Again she dips the sliver in the ink, only to lift it to the skin and pierces it through. The shiny black sinks below the surface of the skin, mingling with the minuscule droplet of blood that wells up. Over and over she repeats the process, the sliver sliding through the arch of the hand that holds the skin taut, biting quick punctures that grow into a jagged band around his arm, a beginning to a pattern that will one day extend the length of his arm. The rhythmic stabbing is only broken when she re-dips the sliver or stops to rub additional ink into wounds.
As afternoon gives way to evening she taps out a broken bow on the outside of his arm, right below the thin jagged band. She uses the liquid in the clear vial to rub the ink from tool and skin, leaving behind only the ink embedded within. She kisses the bow, a lingering kiss, before tucking the items back in the box. She sets the box back in the satchel, resting it beside a small severed finger, wrapped in cloth. Her sweet scent of decay is just beginning to take hold.
Colin grits his teeth and utters a soft grunt each time the needle pierces his skin. He keeps his eyes open to watch the process and finds that it helps him focus his will upon keeping his arm still.
"It's good that this hurts," he comments when she is done and he takes a deeper breath. "Thank you."
He then contentedly lies back, resting his head upon her leg to look up at her as the sun sets, lightening the edges of her hair to a golden orange.
"So, shall we ask Brumir and Crumbs if they want to leave before dawn tomorrow to find this bandit camp? If we can surprise them, then maybe five against nine will give us even enough chances. Or perhaps another group of them might be out... banditing."
As the last remnants of day paint the world a tawny hue she bends low over him, her hair brushing a curtain around them. The lips that find his carry little gentleness, nor do the nails that bite into his chest. No sweet coupling this, the fumbling inhibitions of fledgling love giving way under the esurient desperation that only one's first brush with battle can bring.
Before the first stars truly shine in the sky they make their way back to the fort and the warmth found there.
Crytalis and Colin find Svetlana and Oleg at the table in the market yard eating plates of roasted beats and greens. A pot bubbles over the cook fire giving off the scent of rendering fat. Svetlana turns and watches them enter and waves them over. Oleg remains his quiet self, but his brow is almost imperceptibly less furrowed.
As they cross through the gate, a voice comes from the shadows inside the palisade. "That old man took off. Said something about not waiting around for you 'kids'" Brumir is crouched with his heels on his haunches, leaning back onto the palisade just beside the hinges to the gate. "Left some things for you, though. They're over on the table there." He points with a long arm towards the market yard where the Levetons sit.
The flush of youthful confidence and triumph that Colin wore when riding back into the Post deflates into a nonplussed and open-mouthed stare.
"What? Gone?" he asks no one in particular, clanking down heavily from the saddle and looking over at the table.
He turns back, remembering to help Crytalis down from Bandit. With his gauntleted hands still around her small waist, he says, quieter, "Nine against... four now, I guess? Do you want to ask Brumir if he will join us tomorrow or shall I?"
"I already drove Crumbs away, it seems," he adds with a frown.
"When will you stop thinking you have so much sway over another's path?" she asks, her hands resting upon his shoulders for support as he lowers her. "Crumbs made his choice, and it was his to make." As Colin releases her she crouches down level with Brumir. "And what of you? Will you ride with us before dawn to deal with the nest of filth and banditry? Or will you stay behind?"
Brumir holds his hand up to his mouth and stretches his lips out, baring a set of teeth with beastial canines. He picks at his tooth with a long finger nail, makes a wet sucking noise through the gaps and then spits. "I'll come along for now. I know the land a bit and can keep us from getting lost. After we upset their camp, though, I ain't making any promises I'll stick with you for long." Then he looks at Colin and then back to Crytalis and grins. "And I don't think I'll be coming back here neither."
Her eyes lock upon his canines with a hint of envy. They narrow quickly as she follows the trail of his spit, flicking from where it lands back to him. "Wise."
Standing, she dusts off her clothes and heads for the table. "Have you eaten already, Brumir? Will you join us in a meal?" she casts over her shoulder as she goes.
Her face warms at the sight of Oleg and Svetlana and she grabs herself a bowl of beets. "We are riding out before dawn to deal with the others, should probably lock your gates while we are gone." she says by way of greeting. Perusing the items left by Crumbs before taking a seat beside them.
"Already ate." Says Brumir. Then he looks away and watches the space between the gate opening and the market yard. He nods when she mentions heading out in the morning.
On the table are:
(2) Alchemist Fire
A potion of cure light wounds
The beets taste of being cooked in vinegar, but the juice that gushes forth is sweet and the fibers are earthy. Their pigment is a vibrant orange yellow.
After caring for the horses, Colin joins the Levetons and Crytalis at the table. He looks skeptical at the beets, poking at them with his fork. "I thought beets are supposed to be red..." he muses, trying a bite.
He grunts in surprised satisfaction and then begins devouring the rest of the contents of his plate swiftly and somewhat noisily.
"Ifths rull gud!" he grins to Svetlana. "Fnxs!"
When is mouth and plate are clear he says, "Cry, maybe you should take that healing potion so we each carry one and also the alchemist's fire vials. I'm afraid I'd just burn myself up with them."
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Before retiring for the night, Crytalis speaks to Svetlana about purchasing a small personal sized cauldron for cooking, as well as the little needle she borrowed. She refills her bowl with beets and a hefty amount of the broth and heads into the stables to check on her ‘patients’, silently spooning them broth if they are conscious, and checking over their wounds. Before leaving she tosses a horse blanket down upon each of them.
Long after the night falls, while Colin sleeps, she slips out from beneath his heavy arm and through the door of the bunkhouse. She stokes the fire, crouching on her hands and knees to breathe life into the glowing embers. The flames flare up into the blackness of night, sending shadows flickering. She lifts the heavy ladle from the water bucket, pouring the clear liquid into her little cauldron. This she hangs on the chain above the fire, lowering it until it brushes and dances in the blaze. Pim finds her there. For a while they hunt small bug for him, lifting rocks and crawling around the well packed ground of the courtyard. She speaks to him as they work, the lyrical twittering song of Auran drifting up into the starry blanket above.
Once the water begins the churn, a great rolling rising up from the bottom, she digs in her satchel and pulls from it a small bundle of cloth. She carefully unwraps it, tugging the cloth away from the now tacky dried blood. Her nostrils flare, betraying her slight disgust at the sight, and smell, of the appendage before she tosses the finger into the pot to boil. She watches it, eyes straining in the dim light as the finger dances and twirls in the water, until the steam rising from it burns at her face. She feeds more wood into the hungry flames before heading back to the stable.
She does not light a lantern or candle in the dark of the stables, creeping on soft, silent feet to where Happs sleeps. From the small stool-turned-table she retrieves her bone carving kit, the small set of knives and awls sharp and clean. Her fingers stroke the longest knife, brushing ever so lightly over the blade, as she watches Happs form. Her gaze drifts from him, looking toward the bunkhouse as if seeing through the wood and wall to the also sleeping Colin. She tucks the knife away and, taking the kit, slips back out of the stables.
For a long while she waits with Pim while the flesh boils from the finger. Once done, she uses the large pot grippers to lift the cauldron, pouring the water into the refuse pile, fishing out the tiny clean bones. She wraps them in a clean piece of cloth and tucks them back away. Finally, after scouring the pot and setting it aside to cool, she sneaks back in the bunkhouse and wiggles back under Colin’s arm. “Time to wake, love.” she murmurs against his lips, waking him with sweet kisses.
Familiar with early mornings, Colin rolls to drop his bare feet on the floor muttering in a half-dream state, "Go clean the stalls, ok... sorry... I'm going now..."
As he gets dressed, the sight of his armor stirs him to greater awareness and he presses the heel of his hand to clear the mucus from his eyes. He shakes his head and looks over at Crytalis before beginning the long process of strapping the heavy banded mail in place.
He yawns, "I'll get the horses kitted out. Is Brumir awake? I'll find him."
The morning is clear and warming quickly. Most of the clouds of the previous day have fled, leaving the sky a deep azure, with a faded pale blue creeping up from beyond the palisade with the sun.
Colin finds Brumir still sitting by the gate, but his eyes closed and his chest expanding and contracting slowly. The half-orc seems comfortable despite his sitting position and the leather armor still worn over his chest, arms and legs. His hand rests beside his falchion which lays in the dirt. The shadow of the palisade is still over him, but angled in the opposite direction.
Careful not to get too close to possibly startle the sleeping, armed, half-orc, Colin calls, "Brumir. It's time to get ready."
When satisfied that the warrior has woken, he moves to the stable to saddle the horses after an affectionate morning hug for Joyous Storm.
He becomes lost in thought as he tightens and checks the straps of the harnesses, thinking about what may happen in the day to come. Might Crytalis be hurt or worse? Were they making a huge mistake?
Brumir's entrance to saddle his own steed startles him from his reverie and he leads Joyous Storm and Bandit out into the courtyard seeking the golden-eyed confidence of his heart's keeper.
That heart's keeper is busying herself studying the four bottles of potions in her hand. Carefully she sets three back in her bag and holds one out to him, "Here, You take the Shield of Faith. My faith is in you and if you fall I am dead anyway." With that as her pep talk she walks to Bandit's side, waiting for him to lift her up.
Once on horseback she grabs up the reins in her still unpracticed hand and calls for Pim, speaking to him in their light and airy language. He flies off ahead of them as they head out.
Brumir leads his horse out of the stable and flings himself up into the saddle. He yawns and scratches as his face, then wiggles his feet in the stirrups and motions his steed forward following Colin and Crytalis in silence.
Svetlana opens the gate, standing by it so that she can close it behind them as they leave. "Erastil keep you and Desna light the road." She says, smiling.
Oleg walks through the market yard to stand beside his wife. He puts his hand on her shoulder, looks to the adventurers and nods at them, then returns to his morning chores.
Colin pauses when riding through the gate to say to the Levetons, "Um..." he begins, biting at his lower lip. He lets Crytalis and Brumir ride out of earshot. "If we don't, you know, come back, I'd appreciate if you could send word to my family. It's the Courneye Stable in Restov."
He then attempts a confident smile and moves on, waving. "Bye! Thanks for everything. It was really nice meeting you both!"
Pim returns after a few minutes and lands on Crytalis' outstretched arm. It sings a quiet, breathy song.
flat green grass sky to sky
a calm the plain awards
down the road and at us bound
a human wanders towards
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Muadhnait rolled over for what felt like the hundredth time. It wasn't just the 'wilderness' that made her restless, it was the company she kept. Not by choice, mind - she was forced. Sort of. It was complicated.
She pushed a breath out with such force that her cheeks puffed out, then sat upright. They were all asleep; even the one charged to keep watch had slumped where he sat. Good. She'd hated the way some of them treated her. Like she was something to be wary of. One even ignored her completely - as though simple acknowledgement of her existence would be enough to curse him, too. Perhaps it would.
Having gained to her feet, she walked to the edge of the camp to stare into the darkness. Twelve miles, they'd said. Twelve miles until they would make it to Oleg's. She could walk that in a few hours' time. She ought. It would give her the solitude she craved, in addition to soothing her restlessness.
A hand rose to the thick plait of hair at her nape, dragging it forward to rest over one shoulder as she thought. She began to fuss with it - tucking flyaway locks of wayward curls back into their proper placement within the weave. It wouldn't be long before they freed themselves, but it had kept her hands busy. Another sigh passed her lips. She wouldn't sleep that night, she already knew; she may as well go.
She twisted back toward the camp of sleeping guards. They didn't need her, nor would they miss her. Her lips pressed in indecision. Muadhnait wasn't the type to do things on a whim; she'd always been a rather meticulous sort, outlining plans to perfection. Still, she couldn't ignore the urge to move. It was like an itch that needed scratching, just out of reach. Except that she could reach it.
Damn it all, she thought. She was going to go. They'd sleep better without her there, anyway. A low moan circulated the air as though on cue, and she cast an accusatory glare skyward. Fine. She took a moment to inspect her person, taking count of her few belongings, then set off into the night.
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Come morning, her stride has grown listless. Just when she's on the verge of acquiescing to a nap, the stomp of hooves to the west draws her attention - straight ahead. Her steps quicken with renewed vigor, then quicken further to drive her into a full sprint down the road.
Exertion requires that her breath come hard and fast by the time she makes it to the riders, flushing her cheeks. "Stop," she commands - a halting hand lifting in time with the utterance, and a bone-chilling wind gusting forth that sends her flyaways adrift. Unintentional, but still impressive.
Only then does she give in to her own command, coming to an abrupt standstill with hand still lifted - and only then does she regard the three riders. Two men and a copper-haired woman. She'd always been envious of women with hair that color - and even now she fought a little spark of jealousy, as well as the urge to fuss with her own.
Her free hand drops to her belt instead, to fumble with the unfastening of a scroll that hangs there. Once having managed to disconnect it, she offers the charter out to whoever will accept it and finally lowers her opposing hand.
Oleg's trading post sits on a slight rise at the end of a path leading from the east-west laying road. Grasslands stretch in all directions, having given way from the river land of Restov. The Shrike river on which Restov rests has drifted south and west and is no longer in view.
Colin sees the woman standing in the road with her hand up. He notes her leather armor and shield, small weapons at her belt, no bow. His first instinct is to lead Joyous Storm between the unknown traveler and Crytalis.
When she holds the scroll forth, he decides this probably isn't a robbery attempt. Though before moving forward he quietly asks Crytalis and Brumir to be wary of ambush. He puts heels to mailed flanks and the mare trots dutifully toward the woman.
Within ten feet, Colin rests a gauntlet on the stirrupped lance and raises the visor of his helm. "Good morning," he says, trying to make his young face look competent and official.
"My name is Colin Courneye. My companions are Crytalis Surtova and Brumir..." he glances back at the half-orc before he remembers to keep an eye on the possible brigand. "Um, just Brumir. What is that parchment you hold? Is it a message for one of us?"
Muadhnait makes note of the mistrust, and mentally curses her own stupidity. She should have slept - and the shadows that circle her eyes provide evidence to the fact that she hasn't. Her lips press briefly, and she draws the scroll back toward herself in a show of her own sudden misgiving. She's outnumbered.
"Muadhnait Medvyed," she says by way of introduction, before bypassing his query with one of her own. "Who here is in charge?" Her own attempt at an official and competent appearance is made, chin lifting fractionally.
"Oh! Um..." Colin's composure seems to crumble as he bites down on his lower lip as his eyebrows press together as if to wrest the pronunciation of her name from the series of sounds he heard.
"In charge? Um..." He turns to look to Crytalis for assurance. "Maybe we both are? Kind of? Cry, is that all right?"
He returns his gaze upon Muadhnait, clearly discomfited but smiling awkwardly. "Actually," he adds. "I don't know what we would be in charge of. Us, I suppose? We have a charter to explore the Greenbelt and stop any banditry we find."
"So, if you're a bandit, you should stop doing that," he admonishes, at last.
Crytalis' eyes roam over the woman, paying particular attention to the bone structure of Muadhnait's hands. Well pleased with what she sees she lifts her eyes to the weary and wary eyes of the stranger. She continues her silent appraisal as Colin speaks, finally breaking it in answer to his query. "Of course it is, Colin." her smile tilts in soft affection at his stumbling, waiting for his words to taper off before turning back to the woman. "I am Crytalis, as Colin said.You have nothing to fear from us if you are not a bandit and don't intend us harm. Colin won't allow it..." her speech pauses, the silence of unspoken meaning drawing out and finally ending in the sweetest of smiles. "Are you in need of help?"
"I am not a bandit," she says in apparent affront, brows drawing toward one another as her gaze flicks toward the copper-haired woman. Again, she thrusts the scroll out in offer to Colin - focus having returned to him. "Nor am I in need of help," she adds. "I've a similar charter."
Colin's eyes widen and then the openness slowly spreads to the rest of his face in a broad and toothy lopsided smile. "Whoa, really?!"
He incautiously leans down to take the paper in a single smooth motion, an unexpectedly unencumbered maneuver for a heavily-armored large man atop a heavily-armored large horse. After recognizing it, he eagerly shows it to Crytalis.
"See, Cry! Our prayers to Erastil were answered!" he laughs. "Old Deadeye is watching over us after all."
He leans down to politely hand back the scroll to Muadhnait and smiles at her like she's a beloved young aunt who has just offered him a sweet. "Now we're five against nine again!" he adds without further explanation.