"Sorry," he calls back to Dorian, "That was my only healing spell prepared today. He can have my potion if he needs it, though."
Marcaius nods in recognition of Jaro's gratitude and crosses his arms in mock defiance of the strix's outstretched hand.
"Nonsense," he states matter-of-factly. "My apparent ignorance of orc blood composition aside, signs are everywhere, you just have to know where to look and decipher what they mean."
"Take this attack, for example. Would you think we just happened to stumble upon an ambush by random chance, while we happen to be on this assignment? Preposterous. We were obviously expected, but why? And by whom?"
"Methinks thou dost overthink the situation"
"We'll just have to agree to disagree," he concedes. "The truth shall be revealed in time. For now, I think there are still wounded that need tending."
Marcaius starts to head towards Dorian, the woman, and the downed guards, motioning for the others to follow.
"My ability to heal them is used for the day I fear."
Jaro walks over to the carriage, seeing the dead guard on the ground.
"Sorry for your loss. Are you alright?"
The woman sighs and rests her head on her hand, looking to the downed guard and the other man, still cowering slightly, who slowly moves to an awkward standing position. "It is unfortunate. But if they had not given me false advertising -" she glares at the remaining guard, and he flinches, "They would not be in this situation in the first place. It is their own fool fault."
She turns back to the party, unsure of who exactly to look at, before her eyes land on Jaro again, being the only one she has really addressed directly. "Tell me, could you and your crew perhaps... escort me? Just back to Egorian. It is less than a week's travel from here, just past that little hamlet of Kelian - not that anyone would want to go to that nowhere town. I would pay you for your trouble, and if you are taking this road, it won't be too far out of your way."
Dorian will search the guard for a healing potion.
Looking at the other guard, "Do you have any healing potions in the carriage, or a wand perhaps? Your friend here is still alive.
Aviz comes back and unceremoniously drops the pile of armor and weapons. "We can earn some gold selling these. Anybody want to keep anything? I think I'm going to hang onto one of the falchions." He holds up the liquid filled vile. "Magical, I'm guessing?" He takes a miniscule sip of it to try to learn what it is.
Javelin x12 (6gp)
Falchion x5 (187.5)
Hide Shirt x6 (60gp)
60gp
Total = 313.5
Per Character = 52.25
Items Kept
Falchion (Aviz)
Jaro shouts back at Aviz. "I'll claim one of the falchions!" It's not a bastard sword, but it's close. Thank you Ragathiel.
Turning back to the 'lady in red', Jaro states, "Sorry but we can't. We are also on an urgent manner in which our benefactors paid us well. Your men have gotten you this far. They can get you the rest of the way. Who knows, they might redeem themselves in your eyes.'
With that he walks to the other side of the tree, to recover his crossbow.
Marcaius looks through the pile of loot but finds nothing that catches his interest.
"I'm good," he tells Aviz.
When Jaro turns down the offer to escort the woman, the priest just shrugs at her apologetically.
"What he said. I'm sorry, but we do have somewhere that we need to be. But take heart! At least your personal doom has been put off for a while longer, so you have a good chance of making it there safely before the end times arrive for us all."
He smiles as if to indicate this was a heartfelt consolation.
Falstaff keeps quiet, knowing that speaking up and drawing attention to himself would be detrimental to their endeavour.
The other guard nods at Dorian - "Yeah, mate, I think I've got one somewhere around here." He rushes to the carriage, rummaging around a bag hidden away in the driver's seat. Moving back with a soft, golden potion in hand, he quickly feeds it down the man's unconscious throat.
The second guard coughs back into life, blood coming up as his wounds heal from within. "Ugh. Richtor, you arse. You told me this would be easy. Easy day, easy pay.
The first guard sighs, sitting back on his legs with relief. "Sorry, Gob. Hope you can forgive me."
The lady in red gives Marcaius a nervous look at his words, as if she expects that smile to become a mouth full of werewolf teeth. But, as it doesn't, she sighs and looks back to Jaro. "Well, I suppose I still owe you some small token. Here -" she takes off a small signet ring on her finger, bringing it forward to offer to the party. "If you ever find yourself in need of a favor, you can ask it of me and my house. After all, in these uncertain times, it is always important to have strong allies." She gives a small curtsy. "You can bring that to any guard in the capital. They will take you where you need to go."
"Can we use those weapons to clear this road?"
Dorian gets up and walks back to the rest of the party. "We should probably rest for a bit before moving on. Mani's hurt pretty bad. When I meditate this evening, I'll focus on a couple cure spells and heal him in the morning. Why don't we clear the road here and find a nice place to setup camp. Any objections? Other suggestions?"
Pointing at the dead bandits, Choraak asks, "do you think these lot have any horses, or a base camp that we should find? Horse is good eating, after all."
"I agree. Let's make camp and get this tree out of the way." He looks around at the corpses with a small grin. "Orc is good eating too, if you know how to cook it."
Looking at the 2 Strix, "Ummm. . . .as appetizing as that does sound, I'll be ok getting my own meal."
"Oh, I had horse once while traveling through Galt," Marcaius says conversationally. "They steamed it in a cabbage leaf with a mushroom pâté. It was okay, but heavy on the sauce. I'll pass on the orc though; I try not to eat anything that speaks a language I know as a general policy."
Taking the ring, Jaro says, "Thanks for understanding."
Jaro looks at the ring, examining it.
"It appears we will be camping near hear for the night, and attempting to move the tree. You might as well stay the night and assist with tree removal if possible," said Jaro, eyeing the "guards".
"And I'll eat anything at this point," shouts over to the group. "I ran out of rations this morning. The fight brought my hunger to the forefront."
Aviz holds up the potion again. "Oi, magically inclined, I could use some help with this."
"What do you need Aviz?"
"I found this on one of the orcs, I'm pretty sure it's magical but I have no idea what it does."
Choraak takes the potion, looks at it intently, casts read magic, looks at it even more intently, nods, and hands the potion back to Aviz.
You were wise to bring it to me, it IS magic. Your suspicion is confirmed.
"Hmmm. Can I take a look at that vial?
Dorian casts Detect Magic.
If it's magical he'll dip his finger in for a taste.
"You were wise to bring it to me, it IS magic. Your suspicion is confirmed."
The lady in red nods and gestures to the guards. "Go on, make yourselves useful, then." They nod and move to attempt to cut through the fallen tree with their battle axes. The sun is slowly setting in the west, sending the sky into beautiful cascades of orange and purple.
They seem to be making some progress in their first round of cutting.
Dorian hands the potion back to Aviz.
"Choraak is right, it is magical. It's a potion of Sanctuary."
"Interesting," Marcaius says. "It's a spell I can cast, but not one that I often prepare. Shall we keep it or sell it?"
Aviz rolls his eyes at his brother strix. "You are of great help."
Aviz shrugs and offers it to the magic users, gesturing at the three orcs he felled in the battle. "I will stick to my expertise, you stick to yours. If you think we can make good use of this 'sanctuary' spell, give it to whoever you think will benefit from it the most. If not, sell it off."
"You asked if it was magic, and I confirmed that for you, correct? Now, about this tree? Perhaps if we build tonight's fire under it, we can burn through it, and then we can swing the two ends off the road?"
While others stronger than him are chopping at the downed tree, this would be the time Dorian goes foraging. He'll also find a decent spot nearby for the camp. Tend to the animals and such.
Jaro looks down at the ring once more and is lost in thought.
Wow! House Henderthane! They too are a non-status noble house! Kindred spirits perhaps? Maybe allies. Don't know if I should tip my hand so soon after meeting.
The paladin quickly glances up at 'the lady in red'.
She IS beautiful. I don't even know her name?
"I think introductions are in order. My name is Jaro Vasilis of House Vasillis. Pleased to make your acquaintance."
Jaro extends his hand in the proper fashion. If she takes his hand, he intends to kiss it as chivalry dictates.
Falstaff cracks his neck joints and picks up a falchion to start chopping.
With nine massive chops, the gnoll tires himself out.
Since he's waiting for night to fall before praying for spells, Marcaius decides to assist with chopping the tree.
After about six whacks the priest drops the falchion to the ground, puts his hands on this knees and wheezes. His years are catching up to him, and he did little effective damage to the tree.
With everyone working together, it seems as though some significant damage has been made on the tree. The ground is covered in woodchips, and it seems probable that tomorrow morning the tree will be completely out of your way. But as the sun dips behind the horizon, the chill of night sweeps in.
"Ah, yes, it appears as though we have not been properly introduced! I am Gabriella Henderthane, of house Henderthane." She offers her hand and smiles amiably at Jaro and the rest of the party.
"I can't say I've head of your house, though the name tickles my brain a bit. Still, it is certainly pleasant meeting someone with manners out here in the wilderness." She turns to her guards, having tired themselves out from chopping, and shouts, Richtor! Gob! Fetch me some food from the carriage so that I might dine with these fine folk!" The two guards nod and run off, bringing back both a small table of bread and cheese, a wineskin, and a small cloth blanket, which she uses to avoid dirtying her fine clothes upon the ground.
"But I am interested - where are you heading? And how did you find yourself in the company of such..." She pauses for a moment, looking about at the party members and searching for the right word, "Interesting folk? Most people I know would be skeptical of such a group, even with fine and distinguished folk among you." She glances at both Marcaius and Dorian, her words seeming to strain against the definition in her mouth. "And what are the rest of your names?"
Dorian pulls up a log next to Jaro and Mani lays down next to him. Dorian looks over Mani's wounds. Then hands Mani something to eat. Then starts cooking up something to eat for himself.
Not really paying attention to the conversation, he looks up at the asking of names.
"Dorian Farahan, and this is Mani."
Aviz's entire reaction to the noblewoman is a collection of nods and grunts. He responds when addressed in the shortest way possible, keeping to himself and to his work. But when food is offered he softens up a little. "I'm Aviz." He shrugs. "Our work doesn't entail being diplomatic. Ugly men with blades gets the job done."
"Much like a titan's maul, Aviz hit the nail on the head," tells Gabriella. "It is secret. Nothing else to said about it. Except," as Jaro turn to the elf, "when you have look to Mani, could you please check the wagon to see if everything is where you last saw it, Dorian?"
"I'm Falstaff," Falstaff mutters quietly.
"I am Marcaius," says the priest proudly; Gabriella's moment of hesitation with her praise hasn't seemed to penetrate his brain. "It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my lady. We also appreciate your deigning to break bread with us this evening."
[dice=Diplomacy]1d20+2
Jaro looks impressed by Marcaius's level of manners. Well done, old man!
Choraak has no interest in eating with the strangers, and clearly avoids the congregation around the fire.
While she glances over the rest of you and puts a petite scrap of cheese into her mouth, Gabriella nods politely to all of you, then Marcaius again in particular. "Nice to meet you all. I am happy to have met such fine people along the road. It is certainly... not what I expected when I first set out, but a pleasure nonetheless. Even if some of your company is more..." She glances around at the quiet monsters sitting away from her. "Brutish, than others. I certainly understand. Why, I myself brought along these two for the same reason, though my confidence was certainly misplaced." One of the men shoots her a nasty look after she looks away - she does not seem to notice, however.
"But we are not here to criticize, I suppose." She cocks her head, examining the party again, considering. "Tell me, when do you think that you will complete this task? My family always has good work, especially with the Darkness encroaching upon us, and good adventurers are hard to find."
Aviz stays silent, but narrows his eyes at the woman. She was being awful curious.
"M'lady. There will always be Darkness. But Darkness does not exists without The Light, and those from the Light who will fight the Darkness," says Jaro, in a matter-of-fact tone. "And it may be months until we are back in Cheliax, if we come back at all. Beyond our current assignment, no one has spoken of remaining after the assignment is over."
"Oh my, yes," Marcaius says between bites, wiping his chin with his sleeve. "There's no guarantee we'll be coming back this way. Very important business to see too, you see."
He motions to Falstaff to pass the bread, and tucks back into his meal.
Dorian looks up as if a thought just struck him, looking over at Gabriella, "How far out of our way do you think out would put us to escort you to your destination? What type of work does your family have? Is some of this work on our way to our destination?I'm not saying we are going to help or change course. I'm just curious."
Falstaff silently passes Marcaius the bread.
Too much talk.
He quietly sniffs the stew, eyeing it distrustfully.
I really should learn to cook... Falstaff sighs mournfully as he pokes the lumpy brown mixture with his spoon.
Jaro shoots Dorian a hard look. "Our is secret, along with our assignment! Again our apologies," as the paladin nods to the noblewoman.
"Dorian, if Mani is all well, could you please check on our cargo?", Jaro repeats to the elf.
Dorian shakes his head, looks at the cart and casts Detect Magic.