"Okay, I'll be right there." Visruþ says to Charsi,
"Nag, nag, nag" he things to himself,
He then remounts his horse and rides ahead of Charsi
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Maxim was casually eating an apple and humming a funerary dirge as he watched his companions unsheathe blades and knock arrows, a quite puzzled look upon his face. As the others discuss bandits, bodies, and lending a hand to the survivors, Maxim offers his own thoughts.
Fickle winds afall those ahead,
Who now lie broken, battered, and dead,
But perhaps they've bits to salvage and sell,
Lend a hand, why not? We might as well.
Maxim spurs his pony ahead toward the wagons and the remaining injured, curious to inquire as to the source of their fate.
Inil throws a glance at at Miss Sandows before massaging his temples in frustration before turning to the caravan master and the rest of the group.
"A wise course of thinking, tho it might be safe to also have two of us stay back in case anything goe's wry."
Hanz takes a few tentative steps forward but gets locked in a contemplative loop as he tries to decide whether to go or stay. He wanted to help but also wanted to protect. He was curious but also cautious. And his confusion makes the chose for him as he stands there thinking about it.
Moves forward from her side of the road, with Untari mirroring her on the other. She is not being as sneaky now as she was earlier, but it was clear she was somewhat hidden in the brush. She would get close to the man, making it clear she would not come more than 35 feet from in front of them.
" You, what happened? Foolish venture into lions den?" she asks, with all the politeness she could muster.
"Yaaaah!"
An older fellow began almost falling over when he caught sige of Kelisa's darker skin tone and well the size of her cat. He wore an expensive looking white coat ruined with dirt and grime and blood; There was a large patch of blood in his upper left shoulder along with a hole in the cloth.A bolt or arrow clearly had hit him there, though it was long removed and the glimpses of skin beneath it you could see were hole.
"More Monsters! Get back fiend! You've already taken everything!"
He yelled strangely defiant.
"Geb! Geb roust yourself! Slay these intruders!"
He turned calling back to the half a dozen caravan workers... who looked at him as if he were mad.
"Damn it Geb what am I paying you for!"
He cried turning about and marching for what appeared to be a line of fallen men under some canvas. He pulled the edge of it back and you could clearly see a large man in a thick black jacket lying unmoving..unbreathing beside about ten more equally dead men.
"Wake up you stupid worthless expensive Whoreson!"
He began kicking the body.
One of the other men, an older heavyset fellow already sweating profusely hurried forward, taking off a turban like hat and wiping away the sweat.
Pardon the mad fool if it pleases you, Sarenrae blesses us with your presence.!"
He began bowing once, twice, a third time.
"I am Pali Fadril, pleasure be with you, thank the light you are here we were afraid those bastard hobgoblins would be back at any moment."
Visruþ approaches Pali and says "Hello. My name is Visruþ and these are some of my companions: Inil, Maxim, Kelisa, and Throg."
"Throg, I hasten to add, is an ally, and not an enemy, unlike the Hobgoblins who attacked you."
"We can see for ourselves what happened. More or less."
"How long ago was this attack?"
"And is your older, um ... friend ... always like that?
He paused, it didnt look like he wanted to say more, but the calming friendly tone of your voice Visrub convinced him otherwise.
"That merchant prophet overthere was always a bit of an ass, but no, talking to dead blackshirts is new. When Hobgoblins came erupting out of nowhere it felt like He screetched and ran ... like must of us workers, The guards all fought like possessed devils... well when we returned they were dead and the gold and jewelry were ransacked.
He paused and spat on the ground running an arm across his nose as he sniffled for a moment then sneezed.
"Sorry about that the bossman over there also had a crate of some special dwarven spice that bothers my breathing."
He answered.
"Was the way the guards fought unusual?"
"Sounds like they were reckless and fearless to the point of being suicidal."
Hanz stands on tip toes trying to see what was going on up ahead despite being taller than practically everything but the wagons. Eventually he settles back and becomes distracted petting the horses.
Inil stands around keeping a eye on the surroundings near the front most cart.
Unfortunately Hanz the horses.. were not recptive to your petting. You tried though.
"Was the way the guards fought unusual?"
"Sounds like they were reckless and fearless to the point of being suicidal."
"The blackcoats? nah they fought like madmen possessed like they always do. I mean they are the official "mercenaries" of the land. I think it lead to their overconfidence myself rushing in like that, but im just a caravan master myself i try to avoid such things. I see you folks have some mighty big looms... heading to Ebbernant for that festival I assume?
He asked simply, though from the way it came off so casually it was clear his questions was leading into something else.
"Is any of your merchandise left?", Visruþ ventures.
"Either way, you and your fellow survivors may need to join our group."
"Safety in numbers and all that."
"If our employer has no objections, of course."
Nods sagely, though she was completely lost on how they managed to leave so many alive. She was a fan of the complete killing of the enemy, but to each their own. She would keep an eye out in case they returned for more spoils.
Inil keeps a close eye around the caravan incase anyone trys to sneak up on us while we are distracted with the other caravan.
"They left a wagon full of building supplies preferring to take the more expensive things... they purposely destroyed the axles and damaged some of the spare wheels... im afraid they plan on coming back to get the rest."
He said nervously. You could see finally your small caravan approached close enough, it was clear the young miss Sandow was impatient in the delays.
"Whats.. going on? When where they attacked? Who's in charge?"
She called out from the lead wagon. It looked as if she were about to jump down when the caravan master took a hold of her coat.
Rolls her eyes and goes to look out for anything strange or hostile, while Untari seems to lay about sleeping
Off in the distance to your north you all see... (minus Visrub) dark smoke is beginning to rise in the air, The caravan folk that were raided suddenly stop moving and stare in horror for a moment. Miss Sandow frowns and glances over as well...
"Right then, grab what you can sir, and get your men hopping on the wagon we are leaving ...right now!"
She said sitting back down a bit pale.
Having not followed the conversation, Hanz looks at the rising smoke and shouts to the others, "Someone make camp that way! We go see?" As the wagon beside him starts moving away he turns, confused by all the commotion. He wanted to go meet whoever was camped nearby but as Paw always said Duty first.
Turning to Hanz Inil gently taps him on his shoulder to get his attention.
"Sorry buddy, I am afraid we will have to skip on that, they might not take us visiting them all to happily, why don't you go keep Miss Sandows company instead, she is looking a little nervous and I am sure she would love the company of a fine strong lad like yourself to ease her worry's."
Inil then takes his place at the back of the caravan with his crossbow loaded.
Hormine:
"What seems to be the matter, Miss Sandow?"
Sighs, thankful to be on the road, but keeps an eye out, not trusting they were on the safe side. However, she tells Hanz, " Do not worry big one. We shall met people that need the violent kind of greetings."
"A cloud that size so close means either a large encampment and the burning of something . . . large or... well who knows but I do not care to sit here with it as close as it it."
She answered and climbed into the back of the lead wagon and sat down mostly covered. The survivors of the caravan that had been attacked moved quickly to the destroyed wagon's gathering whatever they could carry.
Inil, seeing the survivors gathering whatever they can goes to help but then decide better of it since he would most likely just be a hindrance, instead he positions himself so he can keep a eye on them while they gather whatever they can and still keep a eye on the rear.
At first, Hanz moves as Inil suggested to help the scary yelling lady. But she didn't look worried. Only angry. He didn't do well around angry people. But the people she yelled at were grabbing and lifting things. He could do that. He could do that real good. He trots up to the broken wagons and starts to lift and move the heavier things where people directed him.
Visruþ will lend a hand with the survivors moving their goods
The crate you are carrying Hanz is strangely heavier than you thought it would be, its not a problem for you at all, but taking just a quick peak inside you find a dark brown granulated substance.
Visrub the crate you tried to grab at first you realized was far to heavy to carry without help so instead you grabbed for a smaller crate. This one held a every strong aroma simular to Coffee... taking a peak you discovered it was indeed a crate of some dark bean...
Moving along now quickly you left the seen of the ransacked caravan in your proverbial dust... nothing else really attracted too much attention, the new members of the caravan quickly fell into place like they were part of your caravan the entire time, and before you knew it you could see a town in the distance...the town of Ebberant where the festival of Istus was going to be held.
The town of Ebbernant is packed with people from all over Druma it seems. The Feast of Fate, as its called, isnt one of the most celebrated holidays in Druma, but people none the less are thronging the streets for the revelry. Each year handmaiden's of Istus, a minor celestial creature aligned with Shelyn weave together in an induced ferver a tapestry that supposedly bodes a vision of the upcoming year. After a mid-level merchant suddenly made a huge amount of wealth in trades and ascended to the highest ranks of the prophitry of Kalistrade and named the things translated from the tapestry as the main reason for the sudden windfall in trades many a merchant has made their way here for this very festival to seek better fortunes as well.
The displaying of the tapestry after the night long ferver is open to all and lines form early. Many scholerly folk attend the festival of course too to study the weave along with any who believe in such things. And so, the fairgrounds surrounding the temple are alive with events and festivities, many artisan's and craftsmen are selling their wares in tent like pavillions, A makeshift stage has been set up on one side and a Qadiran knife thrower is hurling blades at an attractive assistant. A smaller stand is across the way and it appears some sort of troupe of puppeteers is perfoming, the show is being well recieved with roars of laughter from the crowd, and alaborate dragon puppet explodes with purple smoke and magical lights,
The crowds part for a moment to let six dark skinned men in black coats pass through, the fabled blackshirts Druma's official mercenaries troops and the strong arm of the prophets. A cryer passes through right after them annoucing a competition in horsemenship, archery and melee open to all entrants....