"If he doesn't, I'll make one. Let's get this over with."
Derren grabs the prisoner with one hand, drawing his blade with the other. "I'll go with. Then, we'll sleep and go after the rest of them tomorrow."
My ring yes. Nothing else o great sentimental value. Maybe my husbands dignity. I know h seems a bit rough but he moved out here to get away from robbers, and now he has to live with being beaten by them.
He hangs wordlessly.
Cyrioul wipes his hands off from the work, then heads into the bunkhouse to dry off, pray, read from his scriptures, and get some sleep.
With the mans hangig you all have the rest of the night. What do you want to do?
Bolys prepares to bed down for the night, planning to follow the bandits' trail come the dawn.
Derren makes his way into the bedroom, pausing at the door as he sees the two women talking to Svetlana. "Okay, that's over with. You know, I never stabbed the man. It was one of the others. Bah! Looks like I won't be sharing a bed with one of you tonight, then." Disappointed, he pulls off his hat and sword-belt, falling into one of the other beds. "I guess this is good night. It'd be a lot better with some company, or at the least with some wine!"
"Well then, we shall make sure that ring finds its way back onto your hand." She offers Svetlana a hug and then finishes changing just in time for the men to enter the room, the 'questioning' of the prisoner clearly done with for the night. Addressing Derren, she proclaims, "I couldn't possibly spend the night sharing a bed with a man who would make such uncouth threats against innocent persons who bear no responsibility for the crimes committed by the ruffians we dealt with today." She then settles in for a nice night of rest, pulling her hat back on so her hair doesn't keep the room brightened all night long.
That was careless of me. She almost slipped out there for some time, but that may help as well.
Sorry listens Carina and Svetlana exchange about the ring and family heirlooms. There was nothing she could consider of the sorts, but she saw there the possibility and opportunity.
As the others returns, drenched and serious, she continues to prepare to sleep.
Beneath the entire military garb, a young and lean body but there was no semblance of childhood to her body. It was a body of someone used to fighting and dealing with heavy things, when she moved, it became apparent the musculature on her arms and legs.
Lying on the bed besides Carina, she turns in the bed, resting her head against the other woman shoulder as she whispers ”Thanks…”
Cyrioul settles into a remaining bed, keeping a small amount of light conjured to let him read by while the others prepare for sleep, then puts the light out when all are ready for sleep.
The night passes uneventfully. In the mourning you are woken by Oleg.
You are good folk. I may not have much but I have some things to give ya. Here is 50 gold, you risked your lives for me family its the least i can do. Also there are three potions for you. two heal, one protects. Also in case ye didn't know I just received word that three other groups have been sent to reclaim the lands. You saved me and Me wife and well. I have a map with little detail, but more than the bandits.
I suppose you may want to explore. You can come back here as much as ye want, free of charge.
Cyrioul opens the morning in prayer, giving thanks for a new day, and readying his soul to be filled with grace from Abadar.
"You are too kind, Oleg. We appreciate your generosity. Know that we will certainly return when we are able."
Over breakfast, he takes time to examine the map with the others, and begins plotting a route.
[b]"You're a good sort, Oleg. My kind of people. But, this wasn't the only group of bandits, and there are others who will bother you. I imagine we'll be back here on occasion. If nothin' else, it's likely we'll be coming to you for supplies. Much appreciation for the map."[/b[
Bolys looks over both maps, comparing them so he can make sure he has the route to the bandits' camp.
There is no discernible route though the line seems to cross over many of the features on Oleg's map, and one end is at the trading post.
Cyrioul looks at the map and shrugs. "I trust that you will get us there, Bolys. You seem more of a woodsman than I am." He turns to the others, "Though perhaps some of you can make more sense of this than either of us. I wonder what that number, 50, means?"
Cyrioul then negotiates the purchase of 10 days worth of trail rations from Oleg, replaces the crossbow bolt he had to use in the fight, pays Oleg a fair price for both.
He then loads up his mule for travel. Within the hour, he stands by the gate, ready to head out into the wilderness, humming a hymn to Abadar as he waits.
"Cyrioul, perhaps you should take one of the horses from the bandits. After all, we will travel faster if we are all mounted."
Bolys had replaced the three arrows he had fired with three looted from the bandits. He also stood ready to travel, as the hour was just past dawn.
Derren purchases several days of feed for his horse as well, and makes his way to the gate, Dorina in tow. Mounting up, he looks at the other two men. "Alright, how far do you figure this bandit camp is? And why hasn't one of you confessed to stabbing that bandit? The ladies both hate me enough as is."
"Because neither of us is the one who stabbed him. The young girl did. The bandit camp should be no more than a day's ride."
Bolys considered the girl's actions last night. She was far harder than he had first surmised, and ruthless for one so young. There is much more there than at first glance. Perhaps I should be cautious around her as well.
[b]"Is that so? Stabbed a helpless man in the leg? Y'know, I seem to remember a saying about sticks, stones, and words. It seems to me that my words hurt everyone more than that knife, and I don't think that's right."[b]
Oleg leads you to the gate. Cyrioul he charged you a total of 3 gp.
When you get to the gate, he looks at you all and says
There should be someone else. I could have swarm there was mention of a half ling. Maybe you will meet him along the way.
He hands you five papers.
These are bounties for you. I figure you may want them.
Bandits
Source: Wanted poster at Oleg’s Trading Post
Task: The bandits in the Greenbelt need to be
shown that their actions will not be tolerated.
Capture or defeat at least six of them to send
a message.
Reward: 400 gp.
Kobolds
Source: Wanted poster at Oleg’s Trading Post
Task: The Sootscale kobolds dwell in a cave
somewhere in the Kamelands. Normally not a
problem, they’ve been riled up by something lately.
Find their lair and ensure that the kobolds aren’t
going to continue being a threat.
Reward: 800 gp
Tatzlwyrm
Source: Wanted poster at Oleg’s Trading Post
Task: The way everyone talks about tatzlwyrms,
one might think they’re swarming throughout the
Stolen Lands. This isn’t the case; they’re actually
quite rare. A tatzlwyrm head would be a great
conversation piece at Oleg’s. He has promised a
reward for anyone who can deliver one.
Reward: 600 gp for a relatively undamaged tatzlwyrm head.
Tuskgutter
Source: Wanted poster at Oleg’s Trading Post
Task: Every Greenbelt hunter has a story about
Tuskgutter, each wilder than the last. Whoever
manages to kill the ill-tempered beast will get a
nice reward from old, retired Vekkel Benzen, who
lost his leg to the monster pig a year ago.
Reward: A bow and 6 arrows from Vekkel
"Oh, right, a horse - good idea! That will be helpful..." He wanders into the barn to retrieve one, saddles it up, and hops on to head out towards the gate.
"I'm not really that practiced at this, so I might need some pointers later, but I think I'm good for now."
He hops back down to examine the handbills from Oleg. "That first one looks promising... we're over half way there!"
Carina takes a look at each of the bounties described on the pieces of parchment Oleg produces for us, surmising out loud, "I guess it would have been rather hazardous to have these hanging up around the place when one is a reward for killing a bunch of the very bandits who were harassing you." She pulls out her journal and makes a personal notation regarding each of the bounties, just in case, and also fills out an entry for the preceding day, while enjoying a rustic breakfast prepared by Svetlana. Between taking her time with breakfast so she can detail her thoughts on the fight, and carefully preparing a couple of fresh extracts, she doesn't make it to the stable in time to hear more than the last bit of Bolys and Derren's conversation. "Do you really not understand why your words upset me so? Yes, I disapprove of the knife and don't want to ever see any of us torturing someone again, but at least that man had committed such grievous crimes that you decided he must die for them. I would have preferred that he come around to see reason, and perhaps I shall have to take part in any future interrogations to ensure there's a chance of redemption, but he was definitely guilty... but his family?! Not acceptable, even as an idle threat."
She then mounts up astride Agrafina and nudges the horse forward, ducking as she heads out of the stable and then making her way out of the fort, waiting for everyone else to get mounted and gathered, then asking, "Have we decided whether we want to make as straight for the camp the bandits came from as we can, or take a more leisurely route and actually explore like we were chartered? I mean, if we take too long, they'll surely miss the men we killed and expect trouble, but if we head straight there, we'll be retracing our route to properly explore the area between here and there."
"Straight to the bandits. We may have to retrace our route later, but it would be better if we can catch them unawares, and before they have time to replace their numbers. Let's go."
Nudging Surestep forward, Bolys goes along, checking for tracks as he does, in the general direction of the line drawn on the bandit map.
"I agree - straight to the bandits. Lest more of them come here while we are away."
"You disapprove of the knifing? Well, that's settled then." Derren rolls his eyes dramatically. "I'm sure no one else'll be stabbed needlessly on this trip. I never said it was an idle threat, though. Empty, but not idle; it was intended to do good work. I never claimed to be a good man, but if my threats had gotten us the information to keep Svetlana and Oleg safe, you'd be thanking me. Bah! You'd best keep an eye on that girl, or there'll be a lot of crippled bandits hobbling around the woods. That is, if they survive your friend."
He gives Dorina a gentle nudge with his heels, riding out a few hundred yards from the group. Astride his horse, he sits and fumes, sipping from the water in his flask. Bloody double standards! Stab a prisoner, and there's no repercussions, but you try to get answers out of an unrepentant man, and everyone hates you! "It just isn't fair, Dorina. It just isn't fair."
The jangle of harness and the clatter of hooves announces the arrival of an oddly matched pair. Trotting down the road is a duo of halflings. One in well-made, but travel-stained clothes, astride a nondescript brown pony, the other resplendent in shining armour, a brightly coloured pennant snapping at the end of his raised lance. This second sits proudly atop of massive slavering, St. Bernard.
The pair jangle up to the group assembling at the gate. "Hail and well met travelers. I am Sir Weyland Piper. Foul rumors abound of banditry in these environs and I have come to bring the light of civilization to these lawless lands. Might you have news of such misdeeds?"
"Not only news, but firsthand account, Sir Piper." Cyrioul steps down to greet the halfling. "I'm Cyrioul, servant of the First Vault. Oleg mentioned that you were on the way. We're riding forth today to confront a camp of bandits, actually."
Comes the morning, she get out of the bed, doing her best to not awake the other woman sleeping there, for now, she didn’t know what to do about the woman. She seemed nice and loyal enough, and maybe some gentle nudges in the right direction…
Getting dressed in her armor and clothes, she goes about the barn, to retrieve and clean her dagger.
Soon after that, Sorry starts to prepare for ne journey ahead. From Oleg’s she buys ration for twenty days, and the same for two horses. After that, she prepares two of the bandit’s horse for traveling, one wish she’ll be riding, other to carry her packs.
Soon after that, she returns to eat breakfast and that’s when she sees Derren talking nonstop.
The man is a coward to the bone. Sorry decided after all the talk. More than that, he is selfish enough and prone to drag everyone else with him, if somehow, he gets into trouble, and that make things somewhat complicated. Maybe, I should test a different approach with him, but it is still too soon to decide. she muses to herself, but don’t add anything nor say anything to his ramblings.
When Oleg presents the group with the map, Sorry takes her time trying to understand and read it, and when the group asks where should they go, she agree with Bolys. ”Let’s move straight to the camp, if only to observe while they don’t suspect anything.” then mounting her horse and guiding the other one, Sorry leaves the trading post, the first step in their long journey.
Somewhat after they start traveling, she approaches Carina ”I agree with you. One’s family should not be accounted for one’s action.” after a somewhat embarrassed silence she asks ”Was it wrong, using the knife to get that information? ‘Tis how is done, most of the times in the army, when someone is captured. Pain is a good motivator, they kept saying to me.” but before the woman has the chance to answer, another one arrives, a knight or noble, a champion of justice?
"Well, Sir Weyland, if you've got a charter from Restov, then we'd like you to feel free to accompany us to the bandit camp, and if you don't, we'll take your assistance anyway. An extra sword is never a bad thing, and these bandits are, like as not, pretty ruthless. I'm Bolys Quinn, tracker and hunter."
He extends a hand to the new arrival.
"I do indeed carry the writ of Restov, good master Quinn. Clashes with these ruffians already and riding to battle presently, you say? Then let us set forth together to vanquish this evil from the land."
He turns to his manservant, "What do you have to say about that Pons? It's hardly oversleeping if you arrive on time."
The other halfling gives Weyland a wry look, "You may have misheard Sir, but battle has already been joined."
Weyland snorts, "Bah, you know hors d'oeuvres give me gas. We've made the main course in time and that makes us fashionably late."
"If you say so, Sir."
Carina sniffs at Derren and turns her head away, putting a surprising amount of venom into her tone as she says, "Of course I expect there to be more people stabbed in the course of this expedition, milord, but there is a difference between stabbing an enemy during the heat of combat and stabbing a prisoner during questioning. And what do you mean..." Her eyes widen as she hears Sorry confess to being the one who stabbed the brigand last night, "Y-y-you? It was you?!"
She tables any further discussion of the matter for the moment, as we meet up with a pair of halflings, sitting astride a pony and a massive dog, though she whispers to Sorry, "We shall finish this discussion later. Tonight." It is clear by her expression that she intends to spend most of the day's ride thinking over what she will say, and her greeting to Sir Weyland suffers notably as a result, "Good day, Sir Weyland. You needn't worry about having arrived late, as the ruffians marauding the good Levetons' trading post were dispatched quite easily. It will be a good hard day's ride at least to reach our destination though, and there may be some fighting when we get there, so I hope you are well-rested indeed."
Cyrioul puts his heels to his horse, and follows Bolys out into the wilderness.
For his part, Derren spends much of the day brooding away from the group. Occasionally he complains to Dorina, but for the most part, he rides a few hundred yards back. As the day goes on, he catches up and examines the new arrivals. "Derren Orlovsky, of the Brevic House." He gives the newcomers a quick nod.
"Derren Orlovsky, of the Brevic House." He gives the newcomers a quick nod.
The halfling knight looks up at Derren on his tall horse. "Well met, my Lord. It makes my heart swell to see a lord of the land out among the people, meeting out justice."
Looking down, Derren tries to look solemn. "Yes, the expedition needed someone to give it authority, and they seem to have chosen...to have chosen..." He's unable to maintain his expression and bursts into laughter. After a moment, he recovers enough to continue. "As I was saying, the people who organized this chose me. Although, whether they chose me for my looks, my speed, or my impeccable sense of honor is hard to say. I'll admit I've made mistakes in the last day, but none were as bad as that time with Pyotr when...well, nevermind. As for the 'lord', though..."He lowers his voice conspiratorially. "don't tell Miss Sinicka, but the honorific isn't needed. I've quite enjoyed the 'milords' from her, though."
He leans down to offer his flask to the halfling. "Just water, I'm afraid. The trading post didn't have much wine to spare, and I shared what I had after our battle. Now, Sir Piper, where do you hail from? I don't believe I know your house."
Sorry takes the other woman reaction as rebuke. For a moment, the girl seemed about to cry, but then that steeling breath and change of semblance; as if she has just decided that she hadn't done anything wrong.
She keeps an impassive face as the other whispers they would talk later, but she doesn’t say anything in answer.
She was still dressed with the military clothes. Her satchel was no bigger than a bedroll, and the raincape she wore was more like a cloak—not standard issue—reaching down to her ankles. She'd raised the hood. Despite the dawn's burgeoning light her face remained in shadow.
Young, sure hands, reaching the hood expose an innocent young girl face. She cannot be more than fourteen or fifteen, yet the military clothes briefly exposed behind the raincape was hard to miss. The metallic sound of someone in armor, the volume of her shield in her back told a different history. The pale skin in contrast with black hair. Some would say she was pretty; certainly, the forbidding clothes hide the sinuous and lean body of a girl just reaching adulthood. Nevertheless, it was her eyes that commanded attention.
No young girl had those lifeless, old, dead looking eyes.
Guiding the horses near the Halfling she says simply ”I’m named Sorry. How many more the Swordlords sent?”
He leans down to offer his flask to the halfling. "Just water, I'm afraid. The trading post didn't have much wine to spare, and I shared what I had after our battle. Now, Sir Piper, where do you hail from? I don't believe I know your house."
Weyland takes the flask companionably, but does little more than moisten his lips before reaching up to pass it back. "My thanks. Whether you wear the title or not, the responsibility of it hangs on you regardless. I shall endeavour to avoid its usage, but as I am the soul of curtosy, lapses may occur."
Pons snorts loudly at this last, but Weyland ignores him.
"As for myself, I claim no ties to the nobility. The small folk don't put much weight into such things and you tall folk do seem to be rather reluctant to bestow such honours on us, so I guess it all works out. I am a Knight of the church of Erastil and so travel the lands protecting the communities that cannot protect themselves."
No young girl had those lifeless, old, dead looking eyes.
Guiding the horses near the Halfling she says simply ”I’m named Sorry. How many more the Swordlords sent?”
"A pleasure, my dear. I cannot speak to the numbers of agents that have been sent or may yet be sent in the future. I imagine that depends on our own successes."
"Responsibility? By the Sting, I hope not. Give me a flask full of wine and a few women to woo over what my uncle does any day." Derren seems as if he wants to continue talking, but on seeing Sorry approach, instead bows to the halfling. "I'm sorry, but Miss Apology and I may not be on the best of terms. Actually, most of this expedition may not be on the best of terms with me. You say one thing, one time..." He rides off a good distance from the girl.
Is he crazy? What is he talking about? the girls thinks in response to Derren behavior.
’Thanks, and welcome. Now, Miss Apology must Apology.’ she says with a curt nod, and then stir her horses in the same direction Derren went.
’Why would we not be in best terms Derren? Because you wanted to bed me and I refused?’ she asks.
"Oh no, Miss Apology. If I took offense to every girl who said no, I'd have even more angry fathers after me, and I imagine this isn't the first time a man has asked you. It did seem Bolys and Cyrioul were going to let your stabbing slide, though, until I came along and asked. Now Miss Sinicka knows, and she's got a kind heart, much more than you or me. She'll be on you just as much as she's been on me about what I said."
"It's true - a moment when fear took hold against my training. To be honest, I thought she might stab me next if I said anything."
Sorry roll her eyes over two grown man afraid of a little girl. ”What are we supposed to do then? Kiss’em goodbye and give our money? Read your chart. Put then to sword or rope, it says. Now, if you have a better definition of what that means, I’m sure I‘d want to hear it.”
Cyrioul shrugs. "It's possible that he may have wanted to repent of his ways. Doubtful, but possible. In either case, Derren is correct - I should have spoken up against you earlier, and did not. I will not fail to do so again."
"I didn’t kill the man. I just motivated him to cooperate. This is how things works, right? If he repented, it was just a matter of treating his injuries and sending him on his way. I don't see how using pain as motivator is worse than threatening his whole family and anyone with direct ties to the man." she says exposing her beliefs.
"The knife wound can be healed, the scar can be removed. The 'fear' is but momentary. Now, threatening all his loved ones can make a man paranoid. Fear don't go away, it's always there. You mark a man for life. How can that be better than just a knife wound?"
As Sorry, Cyrioul, and Derren discuss, Bolys says, without looking up, "Actually, I see no issue with either of your methods. Nothing we were doing was working, and something needed to be done. Thus, I thank you for your assistance, and would greatly appreciate if one of you could take the lead on interrogations in the future. Would you have any issue doing so?"
Carina mostly stays out of the conversation until Bolys finally interjects with a comment of his own, at which point Carina clears her throat and asks, "Actually, I would rather quite like to take a stab at the matter of interrogation myself, next time that it becomes an issue, if that would be alright? I should like to see whether I can achieve better results without threats or violence, and maybe even convince someone to repent of their ways. A reformed bandit is far better than a dead one, no?"