Perception Check
Diplomacy
Arjhann glanced at his companions as they all made to interogate Bors and his frilled ear caught the man's soft words, making him eye the man curiously. He shrugged then, and as a point of good faith to help convince Bors, stowed his axe in his belt but kept his eyes on the bandit to make sure he tried nothing. He was not skilled with words as the others were, so he stayed silent. If Bors hated his kind so, nothing he could say would help add to their case.
Bors looks up into Marc's eyes and cannot resist a shudder going up his spine at the steel in the boy's eyes, reminding him so much of Gregor back in their days as soldiers for the King. He sighed at the memory but maintained his scowl to hide the sweat beading on his brow. He looks up into Serena's eyes as well as she speaks to him softly but he remains unimpressed as of yet.
He sucks on his blackened teeth for a minute, looking between the adventurers evenly then, reluctantly, he allows a little to escape out. He is not afraid of dying, the things he has seen have made him numb to the prospect, and while he did not WANT to die, he still woudln't beg and cave like one of his lackeys might have.
"What I said is none of yer business girl. I swore me life to Gregor and promised to help 'im create the world he wanted to so bad. I won't be swayed by some pretty girl and a boy with a sword, nor a mons...Drakon..." the man looks as if sayingt he name makes him feel sick and he makes to spit again then thinks better of it.
The lack of an axe or sword at his throat helps him get past a little of his inner walls, but his eyes immediately harden at the thought of these four going after his boss. He would not betray Gregor. But what if they weren't especially after Gregor but the men who he spoke to privately and always set him off so badly?
He risked it, he wasn't an especially smart man after all. "What ye intend when it comes to meetin' with the Black Fox? Ye after the cloaked men who come see 'im? Or ye just cutthroat mercenaries out for coin?" That time he did spit.
"Anyone can die bravely, as I am sure you have seen. It's those that live bravely, who stick to their beliefs and morals. They are the ones that are praised and remembered. So Bors what is it to be live free and strong or die in igmony?" His voice keen pitched to the man's sense of self and pride.
Marc shakes his head at Bors' words; "We have been sent by the over-stuffed and over-paid government. Their wishes are simple, mostly the wishes of honest folk - to live unhindred by bandits and cutthroats. Our plans is to find the truth, the land is plagued by the Northern raiders and not the Black Fox gathers forces. The cloaked elves seek him out, why?" he asks, there is slight contempt in his voice for the government, such that Bors could sympathise, but a respect for the rights of the people.
Bors looks back to Serena then and his scowl softens somewhat. He glowers between her and Marc for a moment then looks only to her. "I'll speak to the lass and no one else..." he growls out softly.
When the others give them space, Bors begins moving but only to try and sit upright. If Serena helps him, it gives her a further bonus to Diplomacy, but he does not expect her to untie him, nor should she. Instead, He sits his back against the tree and looks into the pretty girl's eyes for a moment then sighs.
"Ye don't seem the type o' lass to be trekkin' about in the woods after bandits. Ye have my respect for that Lass. Gregor...is my boss, who ye might call "The Black Fox'," Bors chuckles at the title and then tells Serena as much as he can or at least as much as he thinks she deserves, making sure she understands that she knows that the Black Fox, otherwise known as Arnast Gregor, would most likely kill her and her friends before long.
Many years ago, Bors and Gregor were guards in the city of Maraz, serving the people and the castle. Gregor was one of the royal scouts and rangers, who helped safeguard the lands. However, as politcal machinations began to build, Gregor grew sick of it all and departed Maraz with Bors and as many men would follow him into the wilds. He set himself up as a bandit chief in the country-side, his tactics quickly growing more and more tactical as well as ruthless. He never dared leave the forests nor raid the villages close to the capitol. He gathered many followers from the villages most farthest away from the city, many had no love for the Imperials any longer.
Several months ago, a stranger had come calling to the Black Fox's 'den'. All who had attempted to stop him had been killed brutally, and the man's heavy dark cloak was soaked with blood, the blade in his hands a simple, black dagger. He confronted Gregor who fought him but he defeated the skilled swordsman easily, promising to spare his life if he served him and his master. The two had gone inside of Gregor's tent for hours, leaving Bors and the others to clean up after the dead.
When Gregor had come back out, he had done so alone, the stranger never emerged from the tent, Bors had thought he had either walked outt he other end of the tent although there was no exit hole cut there, or simply vanished into thin air. Gregor had martialed the men and began marching towards the Capitol, telling none his secret orders, only telling them that no questions were to be asked. So far they had come this way, to Bor's knowledge, only to escape the encroaching orcs. The bandits had fought them several times before, but still Gregor acted as if they were unimportant. Why, Bors does not know.
After he ends the story, Bors shuts his mouth and says no more, muttering to himself. He is distrustful of elves, which he is sure the cloaked man was, as well as Drakon which are painted to be monsters.
Marc nods at him a grim smile upon his face; 'I hope we have not to kill him.' He moves slowly towards a tree, leaning against the thick fir a twinge of pain shoots up his leg. With each moment as the twinges pass up his leg, Marcs' mood darkens. However, he feels sympathy for the captured man.
Marc waits for Serena to return to him, he turns his head and asks the Highlander and the Drakenman, "So we let him go? I am starting to smell politics." he spits the word out like a sour venom.
Serena's smile leaves her face, replaced by a look of compassion and sorrow. She keeps her voice to respect Bors' privacy.
"I had not expected to hear this, and I do empathize with both you and Gregor. I myself grew sick of the political situation in Maraz and left as well. Still, while I don't doubt your story, I begin to wonder of Gregor's situation after that night with the stranger. You say the stranger wielded only a dagger, murdered all in his path, then vanished in Gregor's tent. And that Gregor's demeanor changed following this, having been spared to serve the stranger's master following his defeat. It's enough to make me wonder if there isn't something more sinister involved-- though I shudder to think what it might be.
"I do thank you for sharing this with me, Bors. I don't know what will happen should we meet the Black Fox, but I will remember your respect for him at the very least."
If Bors has anything else to tell her, Serena listens patiently. Otherwise, she stands up and returns to her companions to confer with them privately.
Marc pulls the leather belt tight around his thigh wound and grit's his teeth.
Arjhann listened to the man's story passively, reserving judgement but a foul and sinister cold creeping into his spine at the climax of the tale and he cracked his knuckles out of tension. He glanced aside at Marc and moved to the man to help him bind his wounds however, staving off thinking about the dark story as much as the Drakon was able, leaving the negiotiations to Serena but keeping one of his frilled ears trained on Bors at all times.
He also scanned about for Athel and Xlarion, wondering where they were.
Bors looks between all of them and sighs, glancing up at Serena, glad for once to have that off his chest. He is not a man who likes to feel like his oldest friends are beyond his help, but then again no man fit that description in Bors' mind.
"Aye, something seems off about Gregor, that I admit, but he's still the same man. Still got the same face he always wore even in the guard, lass, angry, confused, set-like."
He tells Serena everything he knows of, then sits back against the tree and waits for the adventurers to finish their talk. He realizes he might have a chance to be let go alive though, and before they finish deliberations, he adds in, for Gregor's sake, not his own, "Ye all be better people than I had been a'guessing, spare my life if ye want, but if ye can...do for Gregor what ye did for me, be willin' to listen. We didn't want all this"
After that, Bors is silent, rememerbing the good old days back when he and Gregor had laughed about Politics and the like.
Serena manages a small, compassionate smile for Bors as he finishes speaking. "I understand. I, for one, would be willing to listen to Gregor should he wish to share. Thank you again for sharing your story, Bors. You're a good man, despite your situation."
With that, Serena returns to her companions, her smile diminished and a look of worry on her face. "I must admit, I hadn't expected anything like that. It's clear that something for sinister is afoot, and I wonder if the stranger who defeated the Black Fox-- Gregor-- was not in league with more sinister forces, perhaps connected to the situation back in Maraz. It's a lot more probable than my initial fear of the involvement of devils, but that doesn't make me feel any better. I'm sure Marc and I have made it clear before, but the capitol's political situation is simply horrible, particularly with the ascension of Lucian Dread." She sighs rather sadly, given her normally upbeat nature. "I had really hoped I was free of the politics of Maraz...So, what should be our course of action?"
Heal Check Xlarion
Athel after tending to his feathered companion quickly communes with the great roc bidding him fly up and scan about for any other "ground walkers" in the area. Trotting over Athel looks down impassivley at the bandit leader slightly enraged at the extent they had harmed his friends. His face blank he gathers what arrows he can and then draws his scimatar and stands beside his companions glancing at the captured bandit just incase he got in his head to try and escape.
"Be you ok goldie?" He asks the dragon man before turning to Marc. "Ach I can be fixin that tommorow me friend I shant be going out adventuring again without the benefit of a healing spell in reserve next time."
Heal Check on Marc
"I think we be taking this one back to the town let the guards take care of him give him a trial all that. Isnt that what ye lowlanders do? Other than that let us return to the village get our reward and decide over a cup of ale." Athel shrugs while one with nature and enjoying the outdoors he did want the people to know the bandits wouldnt trouble them anymore but after that he wouldnt mind coming back to the forest.
Looking to the mountain man, as he binds the seeping wound in his thigh, Marc nods his thanks despite his visage being grim pondering the future. Finally he stands and leaning upon a tree to take his weight;
"Now we are faced with a choice; now is the time we see what we are made of. If we return the couple of days to the town and try to collect our thoughts trying to avoid the Imperial politics.
Or we can venture on into the bandits camp, flitting through the forest like shadows. There we will find out the truth... the truth of The Black Fox. Though it will involve us in the politics of Maraz, we act not out of concern for that but the innocent people who will be injured and die as this Army of Bandits fall upon the capital.
Do we act for ourselves or selflessly for the truth and good of the people of Hedon." He says in a loud voice, then he sort of deflates grasping at the tree branch o almost hold himself up.
A wry self-deprecating smile draws itself upon his face. "Sorry, I don't know what came over me. Taking Bors back to town poses a pair of problems; Firstly we give the Fox more time to prepare and he will send out more patrols and barriers to our entry. Secondly the town, they may have bandit spies or they might think we have lost our nerve."
Looking to the bandit Bors; "What to do with him? I was always against capital punishment, preferring the servitude to society helping put right what they have caused. Anyway do we take him to the town or punish him here?"
Serena shakes her head. "We wouldn't be able to claim our reward from the mayor yet, Athel. We still haven't confronted the Black Fox. And I'm with Marc: if we went back to town now, the Black Fox would no doubt either reinforce his protections or move on to another location. From what Bors told me, it seems as if they're moving closer and closer to Maraz, and that's quite a ways from here. We don't want to lose him. As for Bors... I also don't like the thought of killing him. He does seem like a good man, despite everything that's happened."
Marc looks at him a grim look upon his face; "Would you give your oath, not to carry on your banditry? To turn back from the darkness and help people, like when you were a guardsman? Protecting people who need it, rather than preying on them?" His words are low and grim for although it would hurt him to kill the man, he would to protect the people. "Can we trust your oath?"
Athel shrugs unable to comprehend the idea of politics and leaves the date of the bandit to the others. "oh aye I forgot that lass. Well then I suppose I schools find some other place for we all to camp then. Can't be having this ones friends coming up on us tonight."
"Aye we need to get away from here soon. Bors' if you take us to Gregors' camp without trying to escape of notifying them of our presence, I promise 2 things: Firstly, that I won't kill or maim you and try to stop my companions from doing so. Secondly, that we will try and talk to him and figure out what is 'The Black Fox'." His voice is serious as he looks at the downed brutal bandit.
He turns to the others; "Let us see what is in their camp. Maybe there might be passwords, maps or orders. If he (Bors) takes us to the camp we can get there before any word of our attack. Of course, a bandit would be brave to report of their defeat."
Carefully looking around the camp, he notes the carnage and the scale of their actions sets in. Trying to avert his thoughts from that he calls out to the others.
"Arjhann, could you make sure Bors is secure and stays there?" with a brief laugh he corrects himself. "Of course you could friend, but will you? Athel, please if you could check around the camp for tracks and trails. Where they might of come from and going. And whilst you are at it, check for pits, where they might have hidden their stolen booty. Just be careful for the dunny pit." he winks and wafts his hand in front of his nose.
"Serena, can you detect magic aura's? We should check the tents for their ill gotten gains; especially the mystic items and any plans, orders, maps or other instructions." he asks the wizard.
Moving gingerly to the main tent; "We can return the items to their original owners, and need proof of what the bandits are doing." Holding the flap of tent open for Serena, he gives a quick shake of his head. 'What am I doing? Ordering people about, is it just to get in a tent with a pretty girl.' he joking chides himself in his thoughts.
Bors listens to all of this with a stony passiveness to his blunt, ugly features, but shakes his head at Marc's request before eyeing the lad. "Ye ask me to take you to my Boss' camp so ye all can attack it too? Not sure how well that'd go for anyone lad, especially you young folks. Gregor'd spit the Drakon in a heartbeat, and have the rest of ye done for soon after. He's lightning with that rapier o his, and he can pin a squirrel to a tree without killing it from over 100 feet away with that bow."
He watches as the adventurers salvage the camp, looking for magical items or gold and he sighs, glancing forlornly at his falchion, wondering when it too would be added to the pile.
Looking through the camp, you amass 1000g worth of coins, as well as plenty of suits of leather armor, arrows, shortbows, assorted weaponry and supplies.
You spot an overturned log that, when removed, covers a hole in the ground, containing several items that glow from the magic dwoemers laced through them.
Everyone please put down here what you wanted your 2000g worth of Magical items/weapon/armor and I will edit the original loot pile.
P.S Arjhann, Serena or Athel, you never have voiced what you wanted your reward to be? Have anything in mind?
Within Bor's destroyed tent, you find, first of all, the huge rock dropped onto it, which has crushed the table and one of the chairs within. Pieces of paper lay scattered everywhere, as well as an empty armor rack, a weapons rack which contains three daggers, two short swords and a spear, and a chest, which, when opened, contains...
Bors, take your company of men from the camp and look about for any abandoned castles or towns with defensible positions. The Orcs are pressing in closer and closer, we need a more easily defendable place for when we have to meet them in combat. Also, cut down on the raiding, we're back in Hedon now, no need to cause more trouble than we're worth. The last thing we need is some group of would-be heroes getting in our way. And for god's sakes man, keep your eyes on the sky!
The Black Fox
Arjhann bowed his head to Marc's idea and he bent down to make sure Bors' bonds were securely fashioned before he began looking about the camp for loot and other items the bandits may have stolen or acquired.
Perception
After looking about the camp, Arjhann happened upon the log and with a grunt of effort, he rolled the thing away from the hole to reveal what was hidden beneath.
"Marc, lady Serena, Athel, come look at this!" He said excitedly and stood back so his companions could take a look inside, feeling just a little smug that he had found the cache.
Marc winces at the bandits words, the thorn of truth skewering him; 'I know we aren't ready for it, but their banditry...' he hides his worry behind a scowl directed at the large man. "Aye, he could take us in a second. So what you worried about."
Marc walks gingerly around the crushed tent, then gets to work picking through the ruins; he finds the letter showing it to Serena just as Arjhann shouts. The young man stands nervously and moves towards the Drakon's voice. "Very well, done. Good spot." Marc congratulates him on the discovery.
"I think we need to travel light, leave most of the weaponry except that we can use. Take some supplies, most of the portable valuables. We should say some words over Bors less fortunate friends." Marc says grimly. "But Athel, Arjhann read this as well. Politics...." Marc concludes.
"It seems there is definitely more to this than meets the eye." his voice carries on worried by this change in the mission. "We need to find out what the 'Black Fox' said to Gregor to change him so. And this letter makes it sound as if another orc band will invade. This time in greater numbers than the past."
He shakes his head sorrowfully; "Maybe he isn't the incorrigible rogue and vagabond that he was made out to be. But we must find out." Marc moves over and takes a short-bow from amongst the pile. "At least with these maps we know where we are and have proof of banditry. Do we go onto the camp, we need consensus?"
Serena smiles slightly at the sight of the loot. She nods to Marc and casts Detect Magic on the loot.
I agree Marc. Traveling lightly would definitely help us at least a little in making good time."
Within the hole are several masterwork weapons, light and some medium armors as well as 776 Gold pieces worth of coin, all of which is wrapped in a sack.
Within the hole, a large wrapped bundle of dark silken cloth contains what appears to be an old cleric's belongings. The cloak itself glows with magic, and wrapped within the expensive cut cloth cloak, complete with hood, is a wand, an old heavy mace, chain shirt and a roll of bandages. All of these items, aside from the mace, are made of exquisite materials.
Cloak of Resistance, +1
Wand of Cure Light Wounds, 50 Charges
Bandages of Rapid Recovery
Masterwork Chain Shirt
Heavy Mace
Also, laying underneath the pile are obviously master-crafted weapons, stolen or pilfered through the bandits' exploits, including a basket-hilted rapier with falcons and what looks like a long-fanged ferret.
Masterwork Rapier
Athel, who has since come over to inspect the hole, finds an altogether different but equally useful pile of treasure. While his discovery is not as extensive as Marc's, he does find what appears to be an exoticly shaped weapon, a bow with a spear blade masterfully crafted into the wood without taking away from the overall strength of the bow, as well as a quiver of arrows, as well as an amulet that he knows his bird companion would feinetly benefit from. (20) This masterwork weapon glows dully with a small amount of magic, both the bow and the spear blade. This weapon was created by the ancient elven kingdom of Laeofalas, long since gone, but this one relic remains.
+1 Laeofalas Bow (Exotic Weapon) D8 Longbow, 100 Ft, 20/x3, D8 Spear. (An archer using this bow cannot shoot and attack with the spear blade in the same turn)
20 Arrows
Amulet of Natural Armor, +1
Laying at the very bottom of this treasure trove, a strange and magnificent weapon glimmers to Arjhann's eyes, and from the pile his taloned hand pulls out a weapon as equally exotic as Athel's new bow. The blade of a massive axe terminates one end, while a scythe-like hook rests on the other, both ends obviously meant for heavy combat.
A relic of the Dragon Wars, no one can be sure how simple bandits managed to acquire such a rare weapon as a Caex-Thros Axe, since most of these wondrous items were destroyed during the Drakon Purge.
+1 Caex-Thros Axe (Exotic Weapon) Double Weapon D10 Axe (Slashing)/D4 Hook (Piercing, Disarm)
"True my dear lady, we have to careful, fleet of foot and sure of purpose. Of course, for someone as graceful as thee..." flowery prose slips from his tongue.
He moves over to the cache that Arjhann had cleverly uncovered. His hands moving through the dirt and rubble; he uncovers a dark silken bundle. "A priest accoutrement's?" He says bowing his head in respect whilst still carefully undoing the bundle. "I hope that it was not taken in blood." he looks archly at Bor's.
He slowly unwraps the bundle, revealing a glistening chain shirt, heavy mace, wand and bandages. "So the priest must have been, able to use healing magicks for if my eyes don't mistake me this is a healing wand! I saw one used by the seconds in a duel one, mighty powerful. This should help with our wounds, and I am sure the previous owner would have wanted to help people."
He holds up the shirt it glimmers in the light, the craftsmanship is superb. "Athel would you like this, it is impressive and our scaled friend wears something of a heavier garb. I already have a similar shirt from Karl Heffens' defeat."
With a flick of his wrist, Marc unfurls the silk to reveal a dashing cloak. The sun catches it and it flashes a vivid cerulean, but holds a deep colour. Catching his breath Marc whispers; "That is... stunning" he turns to his fellows flicking it around his shoulders. "So what do you think, it becomes me? Can I? Keep it?" with a little smile and a soft laugh. "At least it will keep the damp out and the heat in."
Lifting the heavy and plain mace with a slight grunt, Marc nearly drops it on his foot. He comically hops away; "Whats do I spy here with my eye?" he looks down in the hole at a fine rapier with falcon carved basket hilt.
Arjhann for his part simply grunted as he withdrew the heavy weapon from beneath the pile. The handle was thick and well wrapped, the axe-blade heavy and powerful, the hook on the reverse end looking as easily lethal. He grinned at his reflection in the steel, tracing the runes carved into the metal with the tip of one long claw. He could not read the words etched into the steel but the weapon suited his hands as he stood slowly, admiring how the sun glinted off of the powerful instrument in his hands.
He glanced aside as Marc set about unveiling his own finds and he grunted once when Marc passed about the cloak. The color was pleasing but he shook his head before passing it back to his friend. "Nay, this one has no need for fine vestments as this, nor the chainmail, my armor will suit me for now I feel." He eyed the mace on the ground then shrugged, patting his new find with interest and an immediate attachment.
"What think you Marc of this?" he asked the swordsman, proffering the handle to Marc, minding its wicked hook. He grinned as he stepped back to admire it yet again, but his brows furrowed as he inspected them thing. He hadn't ever seen such a weapon before, nor had he heard of one like this. The stylized dragons set into the weapon made it clear that the thing was probably older than most other weapons, but it held its edge keenly, making him grin. "Never before have I seen a weapon of its like, nor of Athel's new bow." He cast the archer an appreciative glance for his strange, exotic new weapon.
Marc looks on as Arjhann produces the hook-ended axe, amazed at the workmanship of the weapon and it's cruel beauty. He smiles as the scaled hero nods at his new weapon rather than the heavy proferred mace; "Certainly that blade is more beautiful; more deadly and in your hands more deadly still I am sure. Is it some sort of ancient ancestral blade." as soon as he says it Marc winces remembering the fighters disconnect from his race.
He turns to Serena; "What do you think? Seen any thing like it?"
With a look to the woods; "So Bors you're coming with us. We will to your leader and see what happens then. Athel, Arjhann anyone seen steel manacles around? These bandits I am sure will have taken prisoner or slaves." he spits the last word.
Athel smiles at the band before wandering over to look at what all the fuss was about. Glancing in he spies several interesiting objects a delicate looking sword that Marc already wieled as if it was made for him. Aurix already handled an acient but wicked looking weapon that some how resembled a dragon withen the confines of an axe. However, it was not these two objects that caught Athel's interest.
The strangely shaped bow caught the light somehow and as he pulled it outhe saw the long bladed spear point jutting out. Now aint that interesting he muses before testing the draw finding it difficult for even him. Odd he thought before turning his eyes to a shing amulet shining off the end of the blade. Pulling it off he knows Xlarion would like it and calls out mentally for his companion.
Marc smiles, a gleam in his eye. Never really one to put too much stock in material things, as the very poor realise the transitory nature of them. Marc slowly dawns on him that these items and companions may achieve some form of glory (or ignomy) with these being the foci or their achievements.
He nods to Serena, and looks to the pair; "They are mighty fine weapons you have."