Saraon sighs as Bertha makes her intentions known.
"Those who eat the flesh of dead people walk a very fine line between survival and malice. Our companions are on one side, and it seems Bertha is on the other. "
He hops out of the wagon, curve blade drawn, and begins making his way to help Brindle.
"You are a fool, Bertha. You fancy yourself a predator, yet you have challenged a pack while standing alone."
The parties weapons slice and shoot into the crazed meat vendor and her eyes roll back into her head. For a moment, it seems as if she might fall. And yet, despite her greivous wounds, she soldiers on.
She swings at Saraon, a mighty axe blow slamming into the druid. She manages to splutter, "Won't...die...yet..."
Shaking his head at the foolishness of the woman, the tall cowboy reloads his musket, takes aim and fires once again.
Saraon roars with anger at taking the strike, and retaliates with his own blade!
Sprig peeks out from behind his wagon and slings a globule of acid at the axe-wielding madwoman. He then proceeds to duck under the wagon proper, hiding amongst the wheels.
Brindle breathes hard, disappointment creasing her brow as her first swings both bite only air. She swings hard again, twice, missing with the fore swing but redoubling her efforts with the backswing finding yielding cannibal flesh!
Full Attack: Flurry.
[+2 BAB, +3 Str, - 2 furious blows]
[+4 THF]
Brindle’s club finds vicious purchase on the underside of Bertha’s chin. It strikes her hard, and she stumbles and falls. She does not rise.
"Phew! Now that was a scare, you alright Saraon, Brindle? Y'all take a rest, I think th' rest of us can clean up this mess." Sprig ducks out from under his wagon, talking like he wasn't cowering in fear a couple seconds ago.
He keeps his distance from the downed Bertha, just in case.
As the corpse rests, Brindle crouches low, and pulls Bertha's head this way and that with the gunstock club. The gnoll nods to Sprig.
"Not eating that." she murmurs casually. Loping over to the meat wagon she stops short of its entrance, nose proud, sniffing. She does not enter, waiting for others to investigate.
Shaking his head at the situation, and a little at his own compatriots comments, Ralrae takes the time to load another bullet into his musket. "I'm half tempted to leave that wagon be for the vultures, but I think Brindle has the right idea - we should investigate it. I've not heard of a crazed madwoman killing people; she was either very good or very new. Either way, she shouldn't have picked a fight with all of us." Ralrae climbs down from the wagon, and keeping his musket at the ready walks towards Bertha's wagon, avoiding Bertha's body just as Sprig had. He also keeps a wary eye on the horizon, finding it a reasonable caution in the event that Bertha had backup or friends, strange as that seemed to him.
Sprig looks around for a nice, open patch of ground and chants a spell. The earth moves and parts before the kobold, neatly opening into a rectangular hole with mounds of the displaced earth resting by its sides. "There. Let's bury Bertha an' what's left of 'er victims here. We're out t' make th' road safe, right? Last thing a fella needs is undead prowlin' the roads. 'Sides, it's the right thing to do for the poor souls she killed."
Reaching into the main pocket of his pack, Sprig withdraws a shovel. He plants it in the adjacent pile of earth and carefully approaches the hopefully dead woman. Despite his efforts, the small kobold is just not strong enough to move her on his own. "Bas, yah got a minute t' help an ol' friend out? Yew always were th' strong un."
The party is able to put Bertha's body into the hole with a bit of effort.
The interior of the wagon is grisly. Racks of meat hang from the ceiling on both sides. While much of the meat is unidentifiable, some of it is unfortunately identifiable as humanoid. There is also a large trunk with a lock on the latch.
Once the psycho is taken care of, Casey reloads his musket and then moves to inspect the wagon as well. Shaking his head, "This ain't nothin' but sick. A part of me is curious as to what's in that trunk though. But there again, we may regret openin' it. Regardless, let's take it and burn the rest of this to the ground. I ain't leavin' this for nothin'."
He wiped the foul woman's gore off his bardiche and nodded to ol'sprig when he suggested they bury the woman. It wasn't the grisliest thing he had ever done.
At the sight of the meats and things part of him looked up to the skies.
"I've had a good meal or two from vulture, prime bait there, but we don't need to kill the birds for food I guess. We could put that trunk at the edge of the carrion pit, If its filled with gross things we just kick it in."
Saraon, recovering from the strike, says a small chant in Druidic and touches the wound with some holly and mistletoe.
Once he does this, he stands a little taller, even though the wound hasn't fully closed and looks a little tender. He moves to aid the others in burying Bertha.
"At least she'll feed the land, just as she fed on its people. And should she come to stand before the Old Gods...may their judgment of her be fair."
Brindle understands he group's intention to burn the food, though she does not agree with the waste. Still, she thinks, there will be plenty more when the job is done. She neither helps not hinders, just watches as they perform their strange rituals.
"Sh..Spr..ig." she begins, smiling to the wizard. "Doez putting the food in the ground make it not able to rize again as the walking dead?"
Ralrae agrees with Bas's logic, and offers a hand to accomplish the moving of the trunk. "Not sure whether or not this might be Pandora's box, but to be honest I don't care. I know ah'm going to be ever curious if we don't open it, and I don't handle that kinda stress well." There's a joking tone to his words, but Ralrae is completely serious about this: he's going to see what is in the box, even if he regrets it later. He doesn't have much opinion one way or another on burying the (many) remains; vultures or worms, they'll be taken care of one way or another.
Sprig reacts to Brindle's question with a hearty laugh. "Naw, we jes' get 'em outta th' way so they ain't botherin' anyone when they do get up. You'd need one of them religious types to keep 'em in the ground. Or so they say, that innit exactly my field of expertise. Now burnin' 'em tends t' leave the bones around, so th' best way to get rid of the bodies is to bury them... or eat them."
The much smaller kobold turns to look at the gnoll before speaking once again. "Say, Brindall, I think your bravery back there might have saved my bacon. I really gotta thank you for that sometime."
-----------
Once the identifiably humanoid meat was thrown in with the madwoman, Sprig makes his way over to Bertha's wagon once more and peer appraisingly at the five-legged ox. "Now this is a real strong cuss, able t' pull a wagon on 'is lonesome. We might be able t' fetch a pretty penny for 'em back in High Gulch. Lefty, think you can take 'im back to town on your lonesome? We'll split 'th money 50/50.
Once everything of value was taken from the wagon, Sprig starts soaking the cloth and wood with oil, using about two flasks worth. "Alright, she's ready. Anyone want t' do the honors?"
Lefty nods at Sprig and says, "Sure can boss." She then turns to Big Bill and says, "You're the one doin' the talkin' now. Well, unless Bill wants to." Bill gives a quick shake of the head, and Lefty and Big Bill share a chuckle. With that, Lefty starts prepping the ox and wagon ready for travel.
The party continues preparing to dispose of the remains, as a lone vulture begins circling overhead.
Saraon looks up at the vulture, tracking its movements.
"An omen, maybe?" he says to no one in particular.
Casey pauses a moment and looks up. Taking a deep breath, "Maybe. Let's get this thing opened. And you, pardner," he turns to Sprig, "feel free to go on and light her up and get it over with. The sooner the better as far as I'm concerned." He then proceeds to work on the trunk.
Brindle nods to Sprig and smiles.
"No pwroblum!"
Tracking Saraon's vision, the gnolls head cranes and she covers her eyes with a paw-like hand, straing at the lone vulture.
"Not omen. Only one. Maybe scout. Ralrae or Caszey szhould szhoot it."
Casey thinks he’ll have to either jimmy the lock or bust it open.
"Hm. Don't suppose any o' you can work a lock can ya?" he asks, looking around at the others. "If not, I'll just have to bust it."
Casey looks to the gnoll and then back up to the vulture. "It's just a bird. I figure it's probably wantin' what's in the cart or waitin' for one of us to die," he surmises, shrugging.
Saraon shrugs.
"It is just a bird in the same way you are just a man, Casey Jayne. But both of you are more than just a bird or a man...do you never look up at the sky and wonder what made you into what you are?"
Brindle blinks.
Casey ponders that a moment, his toothpick rotating from one side of his mouth to the other. Shaking his head, "Can't say that I have, pardner. Gotta be careful about lookin' up to often though. Too dangerous. Anyhow, that's just the way I see it. I'm just a man just like a bird's a bird. Easy enough."
Sprig digs around in his pack for a moment before answering Casey's query. "Ah'm no locksmith, but I find one of these tends t' work just as well."
He offers Casey a crowbar.
"That'll work. Better'n this handaxe." Casey accepts the crowbar and proceeds to use that to bust open the lock instead.
With a bit of prying, Casey manages to pop the chest open. There's about 300 gold worth of assorted coins, a finely crafted longsword with the inscription Harry's Special, a bag with four gems in it, and a half dozen carved wooden figures wrapped in a cloth.
Ralrae eyes the wooden figurines speculatively. "Now, I've no objections to taking the gold along, gems are always handy, and if someone wants to use that pointy bit of metal that's fine by me. Them figures, though... I don't think we want to bring those along. I've got a bad feeling about crazy people and meybe magical carvin's... I say we throw em in with the bodies. "[b] Looking up at the vultures, he adds [b]"Maybe the carrion eaters will know what to do with them. As for it being a scout... Why would anyone want to scout over a madwoman? I just hope for the birds sake madness isn't catching through the flesh." Ralrae takes a final walk around the area after helping with the trunk, and then swings back to the wagon, glad to have put the bit of excitement behind them. And to think - they aren't even dealing with bandits yet!
Brindle nods, though it isn’t clear why.
”Could be raider’s aerial scout. No way to know, only one way to be sure. Shoot it.” she murmurs, still watching the vulture fly ominously in the sky.
”Carved wood. Could be shtrange. Could be nothing. Shprig - you can tell?” she asks the kobold, obviously not understanding that Saraon might also have magic ways to determine and identify enchantment.
Sprig lit a stray branch on fire and tossed it into the oil soaked pit, lighting the piled bodies ablaze. When Brindle called him over, he set down his shovel and trotted over to the chest. Standing as tall as he could, Sprig leaned over the chest and could just barely reach one of the wooden figures.
"Hrmm, lemme take a look at that..."
The figures are entirely mundane, likely just a piece of art.
"Well, as far Ah can tell, these are just hunks 'o wood. If you wanna toss 'em in the fire, go on ahead." The kobold puts the figure he's holding back into the chest and picks up his shovel.
"Let's leave it t' burn down a bit, then push this dirt back into the hole. Shuddn't take more than a few minutes. Then we can hit those raiders if yer still keen to attack 'em by the midday." Sprig leans on his shovel, squinting in the light of the sun.
"Your plan is sound, Master Snaggletooth," Saraon replies. "I still have spells to spare, and the faster the raiders join Bertha in feeding the Earth, the less time they have to spread harm the way she has."
Brindle watches as ash, blood, earth and viscera join in a skyward dance.
”Raiderz will sh...see that. If the vulture wuzzent theirz, they’ll know shumthing is adrift by the plume...”
She crouches by Sprig’s shovel, nose wrinkling as the carcasses burn.
”What do we have to dishtract them with?”
Sprig looks at the gnoll beside him and idly scratches under his chin."Well, Ah originally bought them 'cuz I thought they looked like fun, but Ah do have a couple paper candles. They make quite a sound, might scare annywun particularly jumpy or at leas' draw their attention."
The kobold begins the burying process, pushing the piled dirt into the inferno below. "Village kids certainly loved 'em, but Ah don't think their mothers approved. If we set 'em up out of sight, we might be able t' get the drop on 'em. The fuse ain't very long though, we only got six seconds t' clear out 'fore they blow."
Saraon starts helping with the burying.
"Considering such a thing could take out a child's eye if they were not careful, I would not approve such things in their hands either...at least not unsupervised. But it would make for quite an entrance, and if they take out the eye of a raider, so much the better. I have some tanglefoot bags and alchemical fire as well...We could utilize them to set a trap. Set the bags, get their attention with the paper candles, prompting them to run into the bags and get stuck, whereupon we throw alchemical fire and arcane fire down upon them! That might even the odds!"
"Sounds like some sort of plan some of the more devious bandit's i've kn...ah come across would do. It would serve them right. If i recall rightly they go by Svedka's Slaughterers. Its uh said that uh its just a name. They are pretty green when it comes to the raiding thing. 'Least thats what I heard."
He added with a shrug.
Ralrae is impressed with the "paper candles". "I've seen those before good Sprig; I'm quite sure such a thing will be quite distracting. Brindle is right, however; if any bandits are watching then they will notice. It's up to you what ya'll do with the figures, but I"m not touching them. Now, are we ready to go?"
Ralrae is not really in any particular hurry, but is antsy to be moving. Standing still is too much like being a sitting target.
Sprig finishes burying the grisly remains in a matter of minutes. The lizard is flushed with exertion and takes a swig from his canteen. "Alright, job's done. Les' get movin'. Big Bill, yew mind takin' the reins, I need t' cool off a bit." Sprig takes a seat in the back of the wagon, near a stained table.
Fanning himself with his hat, Sprig speaks in a low voice to the other passengers. "A big plume o' smoke like that draws all kinds of attention. We ain't too far from the town proper, I think we're in th' clear. Either way, one o' us best scout ahead. Th' bastards might be waiting' t' ambush us on the road as well, jes' keep the guns loaded."
As if he just remembered himself, Sprig pull his own pistol and loads it as he continues. "If they're holed up, we set up the explosives an' take them by surprise. Heck, we might even drop a couple 'fore they can fight back."
Brindle nods, happier by the moment that her new friends are so resourceful and clever.
”Perhapz you are right, our prokshimity to the ‘Gulsh might blend any thought of dainsher. I will sh..skout ahead.”
With a last forlorn look at the wasted foodpit Brindle sets off at a brisk lope, arcing away from the road/track, keeping it in view but where possible keeping to rocks and other cover.
Saraon follows after the others to prepare for the ambush.
Casey hops back on his horse and follows behind the others as well.
Travelling on, the party finds the rest of the day passing and the shadows growing long. Night comes, and with it, a welcome respite from the heat and the sun. The party gets a fire going, and the supplies from Sprig’s wagon make the night pass by quickly. It’s an uneventful night, but morning comes early, as it always does.
It’s about midday when they start seeing signs of raiders. The charred husk of a wagon here, a few bleached bones there.
Brindle doesn’t see the camp itself, but finds what she’s fairly certain is the entrance to the canyon.
The darkness of night was a welcome change to Sprig's tired eyes. No longer would the sun's oppressive glare hinder his vision. He settled into his usual routine, pushing the lazy dogs out to do their job and checking on his inventory. A pair of bloodhounds lazily jumped free of the wagon they had been sleeping in most of the day. Sprig watched as they circled the camp, occasionally tossing them bits of food as encouragement.
Once the kobold ran out of treats, he resolved to leave them to their business and check on his goods. The small lizard reaches into his shirt pocket and withdraws his key, sneaking into a cramped corner of his wagon. With a slight creak, he opens a small chest and counts the coin hidden within. Satisfied, he checks his detector and locks it tight once again. As his watch ends, he recalls the dogs and feeds them before turning in to bed with a yawn. Being up in the daytime was draining.
Squinting through the sun's glare, Sprig isn't too happy to see charred wagons on the road. He'd sunk a year and a half into the one he owned, and there was no way some upstart thugs were going to take it from him. "Ah think we're gettin' into their territory now boys, we plannin' to hoof it from here?"
Having slept under the night’s blanket of stars, Brindle rises early. A quick scout defines the location of the raiders’ canyon.
”Walk in, yes. Or up? Mebbe you with barking ironz szhoot them from cliffsh. Sprig has flashy shtuff. Sh...Syary-on has tangly-bags and alkemikal fyre.”
Brindle seems at a loss with all the available options, and looks to each of you to help her understand the plan.
Ralrae is grateful for the nights sleep. He's been out and about enough to know it can be hard to come by, and has its own kind of value. As he gets up from his bedroll and clears it away back into his pack, his loaded musket comes into view from where it had been hidden all night - at his side, hand on the stock. As they discuss their options, Ralrae puts his view forward. "Perhaps it would be best to split into two groups? One from the top with flashy things and the long range guns, and another going in on foot with swords? If we parallel each other going in we can provide support. With a little bit of spellwork the topside group can get down to the bottom pretty quick." To make sure we don't get left out of the loot, he finishes in his head. Ralrae isn't too concerned about trying to split up the bandits loot - he trusts his companions that far. But for unknown loot of unknown quality? He's going to be there to provide feedback on what an equitable share might look like...
Brindle sighs, visibly relieved at this suggestion.
"Ralrae. Good plan!" she says loudly with a smile.