Holy s%@#!!! Gio exclaims, suddenly, as the brilliant lance of searing light flashes past his ear!
Shae had readied another strike from her staff, when she saw the blast of light strike Vance full on, after Guiseppe’s brutal upwards slash. She smirks at the bandit as he falls and derisively snorts at him ”What he said.”
Then she unhooks her manacles from her belt, and gestures to Quen.
Care to fix him up a little? He’s worth more alive.
She looks over at the other bandits and nods to Gorum.
Have some fun with them, Gor! They don’t have bounties.
Io sees that searing light from the corner of his eye, and notes it's target. Holy sh#t indeed, dang Mender! He waits to see what the peons in the field decide to do.
It tickled at first...just for a split second. Then pure agony...infinite agony as the energy never ceased. Even well past the body's unconsciousness the holy torment endured, searing the soul with the unmistakable brand of the aasimar.
There was little left of the captain save his boots and crispy blackened flesh.
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Gio calls out, Gorum, do you need any help?
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, .
Ionnis' quarrel suddenly appears in the bandits upper thigh. While doing little damage, the fear of the man is apparent from his voice "Aaaaargh! Its in the bone..." Gripping the shaft, he appears to be about to turn and run...
Round 4:
Sha, Mender, Quen, Giu, Io, Gor <--UP
Enemies
"That's the price of evil, fool. Would you like to keep paying it?"
The bandit with the quarrel in his thigh suddenly notices the marked absence of Vance from up on the boat, and with his other 2 pals bloody messes...routing never looked so good. For f!@!s sake, even the dog... he thought, disengaging from the paladin the best his meager training could offer, slogging muddy tracks back to shore and the cover of the forest.
Really? Gio calls after him, You are going to run? It might be better for you if you give up now, eh? Or do di cities around di Moonsea hang bandits?
EDIT: Sheathing his sword, the Athkatlan checks on the dog, What do you think, eh, Alberto? Is dis one worth saving?
Mender follows the man from the embankment. When it's clear he's going to continue trying to escape, Mender bellows "STOP!", which is accentuated by a sonic boon that radiates out from his body.
Seeing Vance is beyond saving, Shae looks out over the river bed from the boat.
You should listen to him. He made short work of your friend here.
Whipingvthe mud from his eyes, Gorum sees the man start to break. ”Oh no you don’t! I told you that I’m going to make you eat this s%&@!” and the half orc moves to grab the man and plant him face first into the mud.
The bandit nearly slips free, Gorum's forearm slick with muck...but the gravitational force of 300 pounds of orc meat can't be denied. Sir Gorum, the civil, turns the man like a wheelbarrow, planting his face into the mud like the bulb of a spring flower.
Among the remains, you find about 25 pieces of gold along with their mundane equipment. Vance also carried a bag of silver dust in an ornate Turmish-styled cloth bag...perhaps an import from beyond the Inner Sea to the south. Slightly singed from celestial fire is also, as predicted, the rolled up wanted poster...listing him as head of the 'Nado gang'.
Searching the buildings, you turn up a smashed open strongbox...now empty. There is also a veritable feast of buttered trout.
Giuseppe, satisfied that the dog will be out for a while, carries it to where it was tied up and re-secures it.
Looking around, and not in any hurry, the swordsman pulls a strip of jerky out and tosses it to Alberto, then sits near the wall by Io, It is a good time for lunch. Fighting always whets di appetite, no?
Mender uses prestidigitation to help anyone who went into the mud clean up.
Io greatly appreciates the clean up, and will set about serving up that trout with whatever else he can find. He also scratches the unconscious pup's head.
Ionnis finds a little vegetable garden on the south side of Beryl's house. Quite overgrown, suggesting the bandits had made this their hideout for some time. Clearing away the crab grass produces a few onions and small potatoes, as well as a big bush of parsley that hasn't been plucked in god knows how long. It goes a long way to enhance the delicate flavor of the buttered trout, and soon everyone is warm and full.
The afternoon stretches on, and thoughts of crossing over to Buttergroves start to edge back into mind. Surely the village offers more security and better lodging for the night...at the very least some booze! It shouldn't take long to cross the legendary Elvenflow...
Gio hops on the keelboat and takes a pair of oars.
I can almost feel that soft bed and warm bath, can't you?
Io jumps in the boat, and thinks a little too long on that soft bed and warm bath with a happy smile on his face. He shakes his head. Yeah, let's get going! I picked some extra garden stuffs for the road, too, but it will be good to have a nice hearty meal.
Any carrots? Alberto loves carrots... Giuseppe grins, awaiting his companions.
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Quen, I understand your predilection for peace, but dis is an evil man, that preys on the weak. What does your goddess say about that? Giuseppe wonders aloud, not taking his eyes from the dangerous bandit.
Because of the eye.
About halfway across the mighty Duathamper, you spot a plucky brown beaver swimming along peacefully in the sunny afternoon. Suddenly, and without warning, it is besieged by a pack of...you guessed it...quippers. All it takes is one little nick of the beaver's flesh, just one drop of red there in the clear water, to send the swarm into a blood frenzy! Devouring the tasty creature in short order. As the swarm disperses, only the beaver's bones are left slowly sinking into darkness...
Soon enough (it takes less than an hour to cross) you reach the opposite shores. A rutted cart track leads up from the landing point, before crossing a rise and descending into the rimwood of the Cormanthor Forest. As you follow the trail, the trees part to reveal a well-tended swath of meadow with a single, gnarled oak at its center. Simple wooden huts surround this greensward, adorned with rambling roses, planted flower tubs and florid window boxes.
Several ruddy-faced men and woman are busily shelling nuts, churning butter, and cutting and drying herbs while goats and pigs wander around leisurely. "Hello, travelers" says a strong, robust middle-aged man. Wiping his hands on his leather apron, he offers a friendly palm in a manner of a hand shake.
"Stow your weapons: you won't be needing them here. We've nothing worth stealing, unless it's a barrel of barley stout that takes your fancy. The name's Cenric. Welcome to Buttergroves. What brings you to our humble little home?"
Gio takes the man's hand, despite the apparent disparity in social class, Well, we have come to see your little town and capture a fine night's rest in a local inn. Where would you suggest?
Then, almost as an afterthought, Oh, and the town constabulary, also.
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Gorum stands behind the others, not wanting his race to trouble the residents of this small town.
In truth however, the mud covered bandit, bound and gagged in front of the Paladin, Vance’s body resting easily over his shoulder, and the Eye of Ersatz oozing blood down his cheek, Gorum’s race is probably not the most concerning part of this party’s appearance.
Glancing around the hamlet, its hard to see anything that really resembles the standard shop or inn. Cenric was working on some kind of carpentry project, a rocking chair perhaps carved of butternut wood. Seeing the bound men he mentions to the side "Leofric, summon Ned will you, friend?" before turning back to you all "Come, speak with me a spell. Under that shaded bower yonder Ive a cool drink to offer. My own brew. The apples around here make the most rounded cider I've ever tasted."
This seems like a really nice place, so Io happily follows this fellow to that cool drink.
Sure, Mister... Gio leads, hoping to nudge the man for his name. Di name is Giuseppe di Firenze of House Firenze of di city of Athkatla.
Mender follows the man to the indicated area and says "I believe we are far enough away from your dwelling, should you wish to tell us the truth now."
Pouring glasses of cider, the carpenter abruptly shakes and spills a little at Mender's accusation. He sighs, gazing back over the hamlet with love in his eyes "We're a simple place. We're not big enough to have the troubles that Elventree and Elmwood have. We live simple lives here. We all have our roles to do, and our income covers our needs -- or at least, it used to......."
About this time a strong looking younger man rushes up, wielding a cudgel "...jeez. These the ones? The Nado gang?"
Cenric nods "So it seems. Now Ned I want you to lock him up in the storm cellar, look after 'em. You send word to Bourne of Candles, you hear?"
Turning back to the party "Bourne of Candles is our lord, by tithe. Reclusive sort, some 30 miles yonder. Ye'll get whats due for them gang, just might take a spell."
Wanting simply to get the man chatting and perhaps trusting of our gang, Io asks, A lord by tithe? How does that work?
Elventree? I would have liked to have visited that place... It is a shame what happened to it... You know, we ran into that terrible Cult of Fire? It was nasty business, Gio accepts a mug of cider and takes a swig before continuing. Why does it feel like we may have made life more... complicated for you?
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Nodding with a gentle smile to Ionnis "Ah, I forget how dif'frnt we are to the estates of other realms. See, long time past there was a great threat to the southern Moonsea, so they says...dragon or some such. No one really remembers what it was...but it started a group of watch posts along the south shore. O'er time these posts became akin to proper fiefdoms but we call the lord a 'Bourne'...aye, thats the word fer a short lasting stream running off waterlogged land. Some got taken up by Hillsfar or yer Mulmaster over the years, but we still have our Bourne of Candles. We use the word tithe instead of tax...he's a fair lord...10% of our harvests and workings. Also a sad lord, so they say...maybe a tale for another time."
At the confused looks of what could possibly be such a profitable harvest from this place, he points at the strange trees that make up the grove "Butternuts. Ever taste em? Make a fine paste, spreadable on some hearty bread like pumpernickel...taste lords and urchins delight alike. Ol' Teddy Tun Tatta is the principal 'nutbuster', so he likes to call himself. Ask o' him if ye fancy a taste."
He pats Giuseppe on the shoulder and looks him in the eyes "I assumed that's why you were sent here, no? But I'll let Mother Strala explain. Come...shes just through the glade here. I know you city folk don't like yer time wasted."
After your cider refreshments, he motions you to follow him some more.
Gio smiles, We all could learn from di country folk. Patience is a virtue that every man or woman could benefit, no?
At the mention of why we are here, Giuseppe, Were we called? I thought that we were coming to sightsee... Ah, Sha'Lea, my friend, dis is more of your work again?
EDIT:
Passing through the trees he just chuckles "Nay friend, you misunderstand. The Hexad have sent you to us, I doubt not."
Oh, it is said that the very same dragon destroyed House Battalia at Athakatla's edge, the swordsman muses.
Hexad? What is that? I do not remember dealing with any organization before we came here...
She shrugs.
Finding Vance was pure luck and coincidence. It happens more often than you think in this like of work. Tell me, Cenric, did this gang trouble you all greatly?
"Nay, heard the story though. 'Stonegaze' they called him...highwayman. The bounty's benefactor or one o' his friends passed this way, some moons back...Ches?" "Bald man, but had some fancy tattoos in place of actual hair...seaman I guess, wore the crimson of a Blood Sailor."
"But the Bourne'll set you straight if you mean to collect. Might be we could offer you the same price and ourselves get it from the Bourne later. Might be something to ask Strala."
As you chat away, you pass a flock beautiful emerald-throated canaries. They flitter about gingerly before settling on the carpenter's shoulders. Forthwith he produces a handful of apple peelings and butternut husks they pick at delightfully. About the same time you hear a woman's melodic singing in a strange accent off in the distance.