"By the gods! A ghost! It's a bloomin' banshee!" Ine of the bandit men calls out stumbling backwards to put some distance between himself and Lorna's exemplar. He turns to run before he is shoved roughly back by the hand of Kressle who sinply glowers at the spectral being and spits at the floor.
"I don't care if it'm bloody, Lamashtu herself. Any of you take one more step back and I'll personally send you to the abyss to join her!" She snarls and reaches into her pocket pulling out a small stone while approaching Lorna's exemplar defiantly.
"I don't know who the hell you are, how you know Happs, or what gives you the balls to think you can just walk into MY camp and threaten ME in front of MY idiots but I assure you... this will be the last mistake you ever make!" The woman snarls and tosses the rock violently at the exemplar's feet where it shatters and a deafening crack of thunder can be heard as Kressle raises the alarm.
Signy takes her shot at the bandit in the watchtower .
Meneas hefts his lance, leveling it at Kressle. "You are mine." He says softly before kicking Veil into a charge. Her hooves pound through the underbrush with supernatural ease and he leans forwards, his lance aiming directly for the woman's flank.
Brental waves his club around, chanting and intoning as it grows several extra knobs, looking like a much deadlier weapon.
He then looks at Vodnykel and nods at the nearest bandit, "Anfalla!"
Vodnykel charges 40 ft towards the nearest bandit (blue-red), trumpeting as he leans in with his tusks.
Signy's arrow flies fast but just slightly wide of the bandit in the watchtower who curses and clutches his hand to his head as the arrow whizzes past and buries itself in the tree behind him.
Meneas and Vodnykel, meanwhile find their marks as lance and tusk bury into the exposed backs of the otherwise distracted bandits. Vodnykel's prey lets out a terriffied scream as the hulking beast removes its tusks from the man's back and he struggles to keep his footing.
Kressle gasps reflexively as the lance impales her, coughing up a sizeable amount of blood. She pulls herself from the man's lance and turns to face her new foe. Drawing her other weapon she locks eyes with Meneas with a grim determination. "Maybe so reaper. But I swear by all the gods I'm taking you with me."
"By the gods we're under attack!" cries out the bandit on the far side of the river drawing his longbow to quickly react to the invasion of the campsite.
He rushed across the ford kicking up water and dirt as he goes and takes cover behind one of the large piles of logs and firing a shot at the strange entity which has appeared in the center of the camp.
The shot goes wide however and embeds itself in the nearby tree.
Lorna's exemplar howls out in rage as it descends upon on of the bandits near the center of the camp. "You were warned! Now it has to get ugly!"
The bandit only has time to give a short whimper of fear before the mighty exemplar's earthbreaker crashes down on the man's head and crunching it down into his shoulders. He collapses lifelessly into the dirt. Meanwhile Lorna pants and sinks lower to the ground feeling the draining effect of her exemplar.
The bandits across the river mutter curses upon seeing this horrific sight and draw their longbows. "By Pharasma we gotta help the boss!" They exclaim and take their shots at Meneas.
One arrow goes wide and dissappears somewhere off in the distance but the other strike true burrying itself in the shoulder of Meneas sending searing pain through his body.
Vodnykel continues his attack on his initial target.
Brental lets out a mighty shout as he emerges from the tree-line, charging for the other bandit currently flanking Meneas. He swings at this bandit with all of his might.
Vodneykel savagely gores the man before him yet again though this time his mighty tusks pierce through the man's ribs and into his heart, he's already dead by the time he hits the ground and Vod takes to stomping his target into the earth producing a series of sickening crunching noises.
Meanwhile Brental lashes out violently at the man before him striking him hard on the shoulder which producers a disturbing pop sound followed by wails of anguish from the barely standing man.
The bandit on the far side of the river up in his platform sneers and fires a desperate shot at Vod from his high vantage point.
But in his abject horror at watching his friend be trampled into a fine paste before his very eyes the man fumbles and actually manages to drop his longbow off the platform and onto the forest floor below as he stands there with wide panic stricken eyes. "I'm so dead..."
Meneas bites back a curse as the arrow finds purchase in his shoulder, but knows enough of battlefield medicine to leave it there for the time being - though he does snap a part of it off, so that it doesn't hinder him.
Dropping his lance, he urges Veil forwards, drawing his blade and slashing at the bandit leader. "Try if you can." He says through gritted teeth. Once his blade strikes home, he leans forwards as Veil lurches back and brings her hooves down one after the other on Kressle.
Meneas raises his blade and a swift slash is all it takes. Kressle's reactions are dulled due to her massive injury leaving her too slow to react. There is a bright flash of the sword glinting in the sunlight before it arcs through the air follows by a spray of blood.
Kressle stands there with a grimace clutchibg the wound on her necks her eyes still locked hatefully with Meneas for several seconds before her legs give out and she collapses to her knees. With her last breath she manages to spit a glob of blood at Veil's hooves then falls to the dirt lifelessly.
The bandit in the tree near the party goes pale upon seeing his leader downed so rapidly. But dutifully raises his bow and fires an arrow st the monsterous woman below him.
The missile finds its target but the projectile seems to fly harmlessly through the ectoplasmic manifestation which howls in laughter at the pathetic attempt to harm it.
Sweat dripping down his brow the bandit raises his arms high. "I-I surrender!!! Please don't kill me she made us do it!"
Since the main campsite has reached the mopping up stage Signy moves through the stand of trees ahead of Lorna and takes aim down range at the bandits by the creek. She snaps off a shot at the bandit she has best line of sight on.
Signy's bandit gasps and clutches the wound on his stomach where she had placed her shot. Through gritted teeth he grumbles, "Cheeky little bit-"
Meanwhile Brental's bandit glances about in a panic clearly not liking the direction this is headed and in a great deal of pain himself from the dislocated shoulder. He takes a careful step out of range of his three opponents and starts running off towards the northern tree-line.
Signy's bandit raises his bow with pure malice in his eyes as he takes aim at the woman before him. "Let's see how you like it!"
He lets out a triumphant cry as his arrow sinks into her thigh evoking fresh wet blood to run down her leg and into the dirt below.
Lorna nearly collapses to her knees as sweat pores out of her every pore. She tries to steady herself as her exemplar cries out in bloodlust and follows the fleeing man to the best of its ability. "You're not going anywhere other than straight to hell! Let me show you the way!
Two more bandits on the far side of the camp loose a volley of arrows at the party. The one behind the northern log aiming at Vod and the one on the ground across the river firing upon the recently identified Lorna.
Both shots aim if off however and fling harmlessly off into the woods before embedding themselves in the nearby trees.
Brental nods approvingly in Meneas' direction before letting out a whoop and chasing after the fleeing bandit. He viciously swings his club as he closes with the man, the club splintering a nearby tree at it misses the man.
He looks at Lorna's other self and then back at Lorna with deep concern. He hoped that she was okay. This looked painful for her. With Kressle dead, they had the battle in hand. But it was not wise to say so. Surely she knew her limits.
Meanwhile Vodnykel eyes the group shooting arrows and trundles towards the nearest ground-bound bandit, tusks first and menacing but unable to find purchase in this man's chest. But with his tusks fresh with the blood of their fallen friend, he presents a frightening visage.
The bandit up in the tree on the far side of the river hurriedly descends the rope from his post to grab his longbow below and then, perhaps even more rapidly, makes his way back up and pulls the rope up behind him ensuring no one else will be able to follow him up that way.
The arrow in Signy's leg causes her to stumble, but she regains her composure despite the pain. She sends another arrow into the man.
"Back at you m@!%!!~$*!~+!"
Signy then backs up to the tree line behind her. She knows when to not press her luck too far. It's time for a little self-care.
Meneas glances around quickly rides over Kressle's body, dodging trees and the tower, to bring Veil and himself over to the stump. He slashes out at Vodnykel's target with his blade, even as Veil's head snakes out to snap at the man as well.
Signy's second arrow guided by the Lucky Drunk and perhaps a bit of righteous fury flies true and scores a direct hit between the injured bandits eyes causing him to tumble backwards instantly in a lifeless heap.
Unfortunately for Veil the pile of logs is just too much a barrier for her to get her head over for a proper bite and while Meneas' blade connects with the man's shoulder it doesn't quite have the force needed to pierce his leather armor.
"Oh, s&&#, oooohhh f&!@!" the bandit whines as he staggers back from the unrelenting barrage and draws his short sword and slashes out defensively at Vod with it.
The cold steel lashes across Vod's face draw a bright red nasty scar on the beast causing him to trumpet out in pain which only makes the cowardly bandit scream out in terror.
The bandit in the tree in the main camp holds still with his hands up daring not to move lest he draw the attention of those attacking his fellows.
The party hears a cry of anguish as Lorna slumps into the dirt unable to maintain her concentration on her exemplar any further as she lay there limply. The exemplar claws at the ground as it can feel itself being pulled back to the woman. "No! No! Not yet! I'm so close! I want it! I want his blood! No, nooooooo!" And with that she disappears back inside the collapsed Lorna.
Seeing his opportunity the bandit that Brental and the exemplar had been chasing uses every bit of muscle in his body to fully sprint away as quickly as possible.
Meanwhile the other bandit behind the logs seems to decide that Vod and Meneas are too close for him to comfortably use his bow and thusly draws his short sword and runs about the valiant cavalryman to flank with his friend. His blade pierces through a gap in his armor spilling even more blood.
The chaos of the battlefield draws Brental's focus in multiple directions simultaneously. Vod, Signy, and Meneas all injured, Lorna fallen, and this closest bandit fleeing. Strange--he hadn't seen Lorna take any arrows. He curses but flicks his arm in a last-ditch effort to end this bandit's risk before he gets away.
Meanwhile the mastodon calf blares a deafening peal directly in his opponent's face before returning the favor of attack. His coat seems to limn with holy smiting rage, glowing and shimmering. He lashes out.
Brental feels satisfied that he has finally taken care of his quarry once and for all and charges to meet his allies in melee. He speeds past the fallen bodies of the bandits on the east side of the river, swinging his club around before bringing it crashing toward the man's exposed back.
Brental's club smashes into the fleeing bandit's back to a terrific snapping noise. The man lets out an elongated wheeze as he collapses into the ground and pulls himself forward for a few moments before laying lifeless and still.
Vod's bandit continue to shriek in shrill horror as Vod's holy tusks pierce the man and lift him off the ground before tossing him into the dirt. He screams continued only for a moment before they were replaced by a wet splorching sound as the mastodon ground the man into the earth.
Shortly thereafter the bandit's flanking buddy meets his end as well as Brental's club crunches down on the back of his head. Blood leaks from his wound covering his face as the man's eyes roll back into his head and he collapses to the floor dead.
The bandit in the tree then curses loudly looking about in a panic as he realizes he's the only one left fighting but in his uncontrolled state of fear he still manages to knock another arrow and fire upon Vod.
The missile buries itself in the calf's flank as the arrow manages to find its target this time.
This time, Meneas does swear as the blade cuts deep into him. When his aggressor falls, he turns away, sheathing his sword. "Only archers left!" He calls out, nudging Veil to move around the tree, giving him a clear shot with the longbow he grabs from her saddle. Unfortunately, his attempt to draw and fire the bow swiftly leaves much to be desired, and the arrow soars off into the trees beyond his target.
Brental watches with horror as an arrow pierces Vodnykel's calf.
"Vod!" he shouts. The wound looks deadly. Brental drops his bloody club on the ground. The magic seems to slip from the stick as it reverts back to its normal form, though still covered in blood. Brental reaches to his belt where a small sling remains loaded with a hefty rock, pulls the cup back, and lets it fly at the man in the tree.
Brental then shouts "Skydda!"
Vodnykel withdraws behind a tree on the east side of camp and takes a more defensive position.
The bandit coughs up a bit of blood as the bullet from the sling connects with the man's chest cracking a few ribs from the sounds of it. Nevertheless he raises his bow and fires upon Brental intent on vengence.
The arrow skims across Brental's necks sending a spray of blood behind him. An inch to the left and he would have been a dead man for sure.
Signu is almost right beside Lorna when she slumps over. Signy realizes Lorna is looking really bad, almost dead bad. Checking Lorna doesn't help much, Signy can't find any specific injuries so there's nothing to apply first aid to. She can only try magic and hope it works.
Lorna gasps to life as the healing energies flow through her. She grasps Signy's arm and offers her thanks beit elects to stay in cover and out of sight. Given how she still looks to be at deaths door this may have been a wise decision.
Meneas nudges Veil slightly with his legs, urging her to move closer to the stream running through the camp. Once they are nearly in the water, he aims his bow at the remaining bandit and fires another shot, this one much more accurate than the first.
Meneas' arrow flies straight and true. This time lodging itself where the man's right eye had been but moments before leading to his instant and soundless collapse.
The part takes a moment to observe their surroundings and hear a call from the top of the other watch post. "Don't shoot! D-Don't shoot I surrender I do. I'll tell ya anything you'd want to know!" The man stammers refusing to leave his perch. "You just gotta let me go after then you'll never see me again I swear on me mum!"
Brental sways at the significant blood loss from his neck, gritting his teeth as Meneas takes aim and ends the immediate threat. He manages a weary smile over towards the knight-errant before stumbling back towards the nearest tree. Vodnykel gingerly steps around, keeping weight off of the leg wherein an arrow is lodged, and gives a pained snort-grumble. Brental strokes his companion's face, his brow furrowed, and then kneels down to snap part of the arrow shaft off. He is less familiar with treating such wounds through mundane means, but knows that an arrowhead is intended to tear more on its way out.
"We'll take care of this soon, friend," he says tenderly, wincing at his own injuries. The cost of this melee had been significant, but they were all still alive after the fury. Brental looks towards Signy and Lorna. They all seemed injured, and would want to rest soon, but taking care of the survivor was his first priority.
As the remaining living bandit calls from the watch post, Brental looks up. He was not well-versed in the rhetoric of diplomacy or coercion, but he felt confident that watching eight of his comrades brought down in the space of less than half a minute by a force half their size was intimidating enough. "If you surrender, then throw down your weapons."
Regardless of whether the man complies, Brental continues speaking upwards.
"We may as well address each other by name. I am Brental. What should we call you?"
Name in hand, the Aasimar begins ticking through some questions that they had not had satisfactorily answered by Vlad.
"What was your group's purpose here at this camp?"
When Signy sees the fight is over, she leaves the last bandit to be taken by the others. There's something she needs to do, and the next few minutes are going to be really terrible.
She steadies the shaft of the arrow in her leg by laying it along a tree truck. With one hand she holds it steady in place to prevent it from moving about. With her other hand she starts cutting a notch in the shaft. The arrow's shaft does still jiggle a bit, which sucks. But compared to what it would feel like without any stabilization it's bearable. When she's cut about halfway through, she stops and pinches the lower portion, beneath the notch, down hard against the tree. She takes a deep breath and holds it while she breaks the rest of the shaft off by pulling it toward the notch.
When the arrow is broken and she exhales everyone around the camp hears a loud
The remainder of the arrow will have to stay in until tomorrow when she has some more magic. She wraps the wound, working around the nub of shaft still sticking out, and carefully limps over to see how the boys are doing.
"Laptev Svyatoslavovich." The man shouts from atop his post still too afraid to come down. He does, however, comply with Brental's request and tosses down his longbow, short sword, and quiver of twenty arrows.
"There I'm unarmed, no need for more violence then eh? As for what we were doin' here. Well, we work for the Stag Lord obviously we're out collecting his monthly tax. If we don't pay up the consequences can be... severe. So we tend to spice things up by giving the old drunk the best booze we can wrangle up." The bandit explains then looks around nervously. "Can I go now?"
Meneas turns Veil to face the bandit, keeping himself straight in the saddle despite the serious pain from the wounds on his shoulder and lower abdomen. "How many settlements do you 'tax?'" His voice is low, dangerous.
"Obviously," Brental breathes sharply in response to the admission of association with the Stag Lord. At least he isn't obviously attempting to deflect.
Brental burns with the idea of calling this racket 'taxes'. He was familiar enough with the taxes levied by nobles. They were not always fair, and many took advantage of those in their charge, but the intent was to provide more for the common good of those taxed. Whether it worked out that way seemed to rely on the whims and will of the taxers.
Adding to Meneas' question, he follows: "And what do these taxes get you in return, other than respite from severe consequences?"
The man chuckles sadly, "Pretty much just license to do as we choose in the Stag Lord's territory. We send a portion of what we recieve to him but we keep around sixty percent to ourselves... I've lived a much more comfortable life this way than in any city. And we only tax the Trading Post, other that that we vemand toll from the travelers through the area. Hunter, trappers, merchants, and refugees. You know the sort."
"Hmm."
Brental listens to Laptev's tale as anger continues to bubble within him, but his face remains placid. Dishonorable, delusional, and selfish. Confusing thievery with freedom. And this Stag Lord pretends at rulership: demanding tribute but offering nothing in return. The Stag Lord is taking advantage of these bandits as much as they are taking advantage of every traveler in these lands. Brental almost feels pity for Laptev, who seems taken in by this charade. Almost.
"Where is the Stag Lord's fort? And how do you get inside? We have heard that there is some sort of password."
The bandit snorts at the apparent obviousness of the question. "Well, you get in through the front door I'd imagine. The fort is due south of here on the northeast shore of the Tuskwater. As for the password... unless it's been changed recently, the current phrase is, 'By the Bloody Bones of St. Gilmorg, who wants to know?' And no, I have no idea who 'St. Gilmorg' is. Now is that all you want to know? Can I go now?"
Meneas flexes his fingers, eyeing the bandit suspiciously. After a moment, he speaks in a language he's reasonably sure that Brental will understand, but that the bandit won't.
It's hard for Meneas to get a good read on the bandit before him who looks confused and mutters about strange folk and their foreign tongues and why they can't just talk normal.
Brental's ears perk up to hear the fey tongue. "Se soglasuvam, iskreno. Toj ne se kae i može da bide povtorno opasen. Imam ušte edno prašanje, sepak."
"Tamp your eagerness a moment longer. Is there anything hidden here in the camp? Perhaps in the towers or underneath some bales of hay? I would like for you to retrieve such items for us."
Signy is feeling less generous and altruistic with an arrow in her leg. She keeps her thoughts to herself and lets Brental and Meneas handle the talking.
The man grumbles at Brental's request but slowly makes his way down the tower. At the bottom of the tower he pulls a tarp off some materials that were near the base of the tree, surrounded by firewood, tents, and other mundane items. Underneath is revealed to be a small treasure trove of ill-gotten gains including 321 silver coins, 190 gold coins, a set of silver earings worth 150 gp, a wooden music box worth 90 gp, three crates of furs and hides worth 50 gp each, and a polished wooden case of potent greenish herbal liquor containing 8 bottles of the stuff you value at 20 gp per bottle.
The bandit snorts after everything is accounted for and nods. "There used to be more but a couple of ugly little blue critters stole a few bags just yesterday when we weren't looking. We chased 'em for a while but they got away. Probably to their lair out at the Old Sycamore but we just let 'em have it. Those bags were mostly full of cheap rubbish and old trinkets anyways no one would care for 'em." He spits and then indicates to the liquor.
"That there is our special shipment to the Stag Lord, the man's an awful drunk and ain't half the man he used to be but still not one to be crossed. I've seen him punch a horse out for spitting in the yard I have. Not someone you want to get on the badside of, nor that old fool he keeps locked in the basement. Regardless if he doesn't get his booze you can expect him to get more agressive quickly. I can still deliver it to him if you'd prefer, it may save you some trouble. But then, of course, you'd have to let me go."
As Laptev goes through the hidden items, Brental keeps a close eye on him and on the items he uncovers. He not-so-surreptitiously retrieves his club and Meneas' lance from their places on the ground, returning the latter to the knight-errant with a slight nod. As Laptev finishes his rounds, Brental approaches him--almost too close--and looks down at him from his full height. His eyes flash red before returning to a deep, furious green.
"Is there a wedding ring among your taxes? Or did the mites take that, too?"
Brental lingers spitefully on the word 'taxes', his tone full of latent venom.
Signy had mentioned wanting to go after the mites. The Old Sycamore seemed like their next best destination after dealing with Laptev, especially if Lana's wedding ring was now with them.
And then there was this new tidbit that the Stag Lord has a prisoner of sorts at the Fort. Brental had half a mind to let Laptev continue to prattle on to see what other useful information they could wrench up.
It was tempting to insert his sugarsweet deathcap mushroom tea into this shipment of liquor, but letting Laptev go introduced other problems. The Stag Lord becoming more aggressive was not something that Brental minded. That would most likely affect those nearest to him first. The aggression could eventually spill out into additional taxing crusades, but missing a shipment of liquor from one cell gone missing was not likely to cause an unrighteous uproar. And if it did? Let the Stag Lord try.
Meneas turns his hood to his companions, before nodding his thanks to the druid as he picks up his lance. Locked in his basement? A prisoner. Maybe an ally? He sighs, one hand idly thumbing the hilt of his dueling sword, silently contemplating whether the others would mind him executing the man now. Best to hold off until he's told us the rest of his tale.