Meneas’ initial suggestion is sound strategy, and that it didn’t immediately occur to Lina betrays either her woolly-headedness as to the practical side of things beyond the preparation of a careful tincture or encouraging a green thing growing, or else the softer side of her heart.
“I imagine they all but must be more bandits,” she considers, “just the poor sods stuck with the worst, most unrewarding part of the business. They might scatter if they see us come for the Stag Lord decisively enough.”
She has a bit of a better sense for smaller-scale tactics, and it occurs to Lina that, “And any spooked bandits who turn their backs should be easier to mop up as they flee, speaking of leaving things behind.”
In the morning, Brental prepares the spell that he had promised, as requested. He spends part of his morning meditations gathering some materials, and returns to the camp with a beetle on his finger and a bit of honey in a vial. He uncorks the vial and waves his hand over the beetle, his fingers tutting and dancing. The beetle glows briefly luminescent before sticking a proboscis into the vial. It seem to shimmy, invigorated, before it lifts up, wing buzzing, and flies off towards the fort.
"This could take a while," Brental says. "My little friend will investigate the fort and return to us with information."
Each scout that returns passes along memories of specific structural flaws, defenses, and alarms, granting you the ability to reroll one failed skill check per scout, as long as the skill check involves that specific location’s layout, such as a Stealth check to sneak in, a Disable Device check to silence an alarm, or a Perception check to notice a trap. If even one scout returns, you also gain a rough understanding of the building’s layout (at least, any portions your scouts could access). All insight (and the associated rerolls) fades 1 hour per caster level you have after the scouts return. Your insects remember nothing about creatures, and so provide no information about guardians or any conversations they may overhear.
As the group begins to prepare, Brental offers another possibility.
"Rather than waylaying the miserable-looking bandits that came out, we could approach them with an offer. If any of them are amenable to defecting, I believe that our offer of clemency could be more appealing than death."
A low growl emerges from within Meneas' hood at that prospect. "How would we enforce that on them, short of dragging them back to Oleg's? And who's to say whether they'll not make a ruckus to drag the rest of the fort into noticing us?"
He folds his arms, his shoulders tensed.
The time spent watching the fort, along with the group coming and going, turns Signy's opinions around somewhat.
"They're bandits, I'm almost certain. It's how the whole thing works. The Stag Lord and his people don't bother with banditry themselves. It more like a protection racket. The working bandits go about their banditry and hand over a goodly portion to the Stag Lord. If anyone deicides to freelance, that's when the Stag Lord and his people come out to bust some heads. The ones who came and went were delivering the Stag Lord's cut of their take."
"It may be easier to bluff our way in than we were thinking. We could say something along the lines of 'hi we're newish and another group of your guys told us how things work around here. We don't want any trouble so here we are to make nice."
"It should at least get us through the gate, which is about as much as we're hoping anything else can accomplish. It would save spells too. No need for trying to spider climb walls while invisible and so forth. When things go south with our con, we're fresher in that respect than we will be otherwise. Besides, who knows if they'll even worry much about us? We might get asked to dinner if they're not used to trouble and things have gotten sloppy, or they're stupid."
"As for the bunch that left. They're a great opportunity to find out about the place's insides, numbers of defenders, names, and so forth. They just came from there. We only need one of them for that sort of thing. The more the merrier, but if they insist on a fight, we just need to be sure to keep one of them in talking condition to get what we need."
"Thats not to say I can't go check the place out up close. But we'd do better, and at lower risk, to see what we get from the bugs and the one's who left before trying it. All it takes is my being seen and we've made things harder for ourselves."
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"I agree with talking with them. If we only tell them we're about to rid the lands of the Stag Lord, I'm pretty sure they won't be against it. No one likes to pay tribute. We don't need to say we mean to get rid of all banditry in the lands, just the Stag Lord. We're doing this at Oleg's request, and they'll have plenty of territory to rob. Hells, they might even agree to help."
A low growl emerges from within Meneas' hood at that prospect. "How would we enforce that on them, short of dragging them back to Oleg's? And who's to say whether they'll not make a ruckus to drag the rest of the fort into noticing us?"
He folds his arms, his shoulders tensed.
“Well, we could. Bind them, gag them, drag them around until we decide what to do with them,” Lina says cheerfully. “They’re bound to have split up again already, so unless we feel like chasing down each little band, there’s a risk that someone will come back at an inconvenient moment anyway.”
She’s rather appalled by Morof’s suggestion, but then he wasn’t party to the original charter: she’s not one to worry too much about such things, but being too lackadaisical about what one’s signed up for tends to cause more trouble in the end, and they are talking about some rather verminous bandits. They had their chance and then some for robbery, probably worse. If they can’t handle it when decent folk have had enough of their villainy, well, ‘You have what you hold.’
"As for the bunch that left. They're a great opportunity to find out about the place's insides, numbers of defenders, names, and so forth. They just came from there. We only need one of them for that sort of thing. The more the merrier, but if they insist on a fight, we just need to be sure to keep one of them in talking condition to get what we need."
She nods her agreement with Signy’s clarification. “Browbeat them into submission, or just without the brow-; scare them into never coming back this side of the Shrike, or make sure they can’t more … permanently. It’s up to them how stupid they want to be about it.”
As the adventurers mount up to track down one of the bands of recent visitors for (possibly enhanced) interrogation, she gives Brental and Meneas another look. “Shall we give them a bit of a lead? Just so any screaming and shouting would have to travel further rather than not, if it comes to that. You did say your enspelled beetle could take a while, Brental?”
She keeps an eye on the plants along the edge of their path as they go, just in case something useful crops up.
She also muses about refinements to hexcraft. She knows a bit more about shorter-lived curses, but like anyone, and especially as a budding witch, she’s heard the stories about proper maledictions. Weave the magic right, and it holds longer. Who knows when an accident might happen, hmm? The thought gives her an absolutely wicked idea.
Meneas turns a cold stare from beneath to Morof, remaining silent for a long moment as he masters his temper. "If you wish to lie to them, feel free to tell them to set up shop elsewhere." He says, voice even and words very precise. "But I swear to you, Morof, that if you make that suggestion in earnest, it will be at your own peril."
He turns back to the others, letting out a slow breath. "If you insist on negotiating with them, I will hold back and be ready to slay the most threatening one when the negotiations fall through."
Following the group of leather-clad individuals for a way through the damp roads as rain gently sprikles down on them the adventurers are able to get a good account of their numbers. The group numbers ten in total though none of them look like particularaly fierce fighters.
Lina also manages to lay eyes on plenty of mandrake and even some unblossomed stargazer lillies along the trail.
After a time the group stops and it seem as though two of the men are having an arguement.
The smaller man squwaks furiously swatting at the large man. "Idiot! I've seen that brute kill a horse! With a PUNCH. Just for spitting near him! What do you think he'll do to us if we don't give him his cut huh?! Moron?!"
The larger man bellows. "Ah horseshit! Even if he could do that once he's all washed up now! Pathetic! We could run the show around here!"
Meneas flexes his fingers as he looks out at the bandits. "I make ten or so of them. We should be cautious, especially if you intend to negotiate. Outnumbering us two to one will make them bolder than they might otherwise be."
Lina pauses for a moment to dig up a few apparently unremarkable plants by the side of the road, stifling an expression of delight a moment after as dismounting and getting closer also reveals some of the lilies Svetlana mentioned a particular fondness for. The witch pauses to get her bearings properly, and scores a shallow trail marker into the bark of the nearest suitable tree: it wouldn’t do to lose track of the windfall. She hopes it’s only a good sign for how the rest of the day will go.
Unfortunately, she’s far too excited by her discovery to really focus on much of anything else.
“How do we all feel about lip tint?” she whispers enthusiastically as the group gets going again. She’s not so thoughtless as to throw caution entirely to the wind, after all, and she wants to make sure that the others know she’s willing to share, even if she suspects… Well, Meneas is fey-touched, but she’s never seen him use obvious magic, and the glimpse she got of Morof’s spellbook while he helped her with the most recent additions to her own suggested that the wizard isn’t at all keen on the sorts of spells that mandrake enhances. And for the gentlemen generally , it doesn’t seem quite their style. Maybe if she pitched it as a form of warpaint?
Meneas' suggestion jolts her back to the issue at hand. “Why don't we try getting a bit closer? And if they spot us, or someone wants to take the lead, we can see how things go from there?”
"That many would make negotiation, especially for surrender, very tough to pull off. Maybe they need a good scare and half their numbers dead, then they'd be ready to talk sincerely?"
Signy is trying to be quiet so she just gives Lina a thumbs up on her lip tint idea.
“Valuable?” Lina asks quietly, as the group continues its approach, her eyebrows nearly shooting off the top of her head. “I mean, if you think you can convince them to go in first, and then leave the Narlmarches as soon as the dust settles, or register with that Kesten fellow or with us, but I wouldn’t trust them further than I could throw them, and all their lieutenants were probably born to be hanged, beheaded, or have their legs broken.”
Lina is many things, but she’s very obviously not built to be launching anyone through the air any distance, so the implication is clear. And everyone knows that you send the riffraff, mercenaries, and assorted scum in first, which is probably an easier sell when one’s actually dealing with mercs, and not slimy little bandits.
She sighs heavily. “It goes against the grain not to offer them the chance to surrender, but it’s probably not reasonable to ask anything less if they want to stay in the territory of our charter eventually. I have no objections to a show of force either, especially if we can make one less lethally, but I’d have to improvise for that.”
"You said they were arguing? So one of the them is arguing for sticking by the Stag Lord? Why don't we combine the two ideas here? Morof, if you can point out the one loyal to the Stag Lord I'll plug him with a couple of arrows while Meneas runs him through with his lance."
"Once he's very dead, we'll announce to the rest that it's their lucky day and we're all going to go take down the Stag Lord together. The dramatic death opener should be just what they need to see how very right we are, whether they like it or not."
"Then off we go, the whole lot of us to attack the fort. We'll work out surviving the aftermath with those geezers if we make it through the fight without them switching sides and turning on us in the middle of it."
"And of course if they still won't help us after that impressive opening death, we can either massacre them, or do something really convoluted like tying them up and crossing our fingers they stay that way or trusting they'll actually wander away forever if they promise to."
"OR we can hit them hard and take them all out except one or two for questioning. Then tie them up and not care so much about what they do if they get away because there's about one of them."
"Then we go talk our way into the fort pretending to be bandits since we have the password. Once we're inside we position ourselves well, hit them by surprise, and take them down."
"Then, without any extra crap to deal with we go back for a nice wedding."
If there's sarcasm in any of this, Signy hides it well.
"I'm open to whatever. All the time in the world right here to go to huge amounts of trouble if we decide to."
She doesn't do so well hiding her sarcasm with the rest.
Brental is quiet during much of the conversation, trying to key in to what the bandits are saying. He confirms Motof's report, though, and then adds his two cents.
"The small, twitchy one is the one who is afraid of the Stag Lord. The big one with the shaved head and the scar over his eye is our potential instigator of a coup."
Signy's general plans sound reasonable. "A show of force could be palpable, especially if it's a lead to an offer of an alliance. I don't think we can trust any of them, but I'm open to talking."
He looks at the sun and estimates the time until his bug's report for the others.
"We have time. Let's try it. Make a swift example of the other, and offer an alliance."
"Good." There is something coldly satisfied in the word as Meneas levels his lance. "I may get unlucky and leave him alive - or they may turn out to attack us if one falls. Be ready." Once Morof points out the would-be loyalist, he kicks Veil into a charge, his lance lunging forwards. The blow struck, he thunders past the group, already planning to turn Veil about.
Signy positions herself to follow up with a couple of arrows if the man is still standing after Meneas's charge.
I might need to work on my sarcasm some she thinks.
Lina wonders how leaders do it, as the conversation spins round a bit more. Of course, elves do a lot of talking, not least because they’ll band together (or maybe, even more horrifyingly chaotically, separately) against anyone trying to boss them around. A certain distance probably helps. ‘Sort it out,’ and the feet on the ground see that it happens - to mix metaphors terribly - while the powers that be get the luxury of not seeing the messy details.
Though the easily-distracted part of her is ready to continue her meditations on the finer points of negotiation, she gets her spear ready as soon as Meneas puts spurs to Veil’s flanks, and hares off after him as quickly as she can. She’s easily outpaced, which is fine, and she slows to a deliberate stroll before approaching the edge of the circle of the bandits’ gathering herself.
“Anyone else think sticking by the Stag Lord is a good idea?” she asks brazenly, as if a man being skewered right in their midst is an almost entirely unremarkable occurrence. “All of you keep your hands where we can see them, and today might just turn out better than you could ever dream: freedom from the Stag!”
She has to speak quickly, all while juggling downplaying the obvious ongoing threat of Meneas' looming presence and giving the adventurers room to steer the bandits in the direction they want, so striking the right balance proves elusive. As it is, her body language is probably a bit too aggressive.
Meneas turns slowly, his hood concealing his face. "Drop your weapons. We may yet resolve this peacefully."
Signy pops up with her bow at the ready.
"We're only asking once!" she adds.
Galloping down the path at a breakneck speed, Veil's hooves thunder along even through the damp earth of the rain. Meneas lowers his lance, death and vengeance in his eyes, and plunges the weapon through the unsuspecting skeletally-thin bandit.
He's dead before he even has a chance to cry out.
Slipping the corpse loose from his weapon Meneas turns Veil around and barks an order just as soon as the shocked nine remaining bandits reach for their weapons. His voice cracks like a whip and stuns the bandits further into submissions as they remove their hands from their weapons and back away slowly murmuring amongst themselves about their next course of action.
Finally the bald and scarred one steps forward and speaks for the group, "Wh-Who the hell are you people? And what do you want exactly?"
His eyes glint mischievously, "And what did you mean exactly by 'freedom from the Stag?'"
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Before Morof has a chance to say that the man isn't loyal to the Stag Lord, only doubts their group's ability to take him down, Meneas charges and kills him. He realizes he is a little bit too socially awkward to speak for the group, but he can't stay quiet and thinks quickly "We're going to take the Stag Lord down. Take your stance now, are you in our way?"
Brental likewise saunters up after Meneas' gruesome assault, his hands doing preparatory spellcasting motions in case this doesn't go their way.
"We are enemies of the Stag Lord, aiming to remove his head from his shoulders. We would ally with those willing to do the same. Are you?"
The de-facto bandit leader sneers at Morof seemingly unintimidated by the small half-elf. "In your way? I suppose we ain't, don't got no reason to be. That Stag bastard has been taking the majority of our earnings leaving us with mere scraps!" The man spits angrily at the ground and snarls at Brental.
"We ain't gonna stand in your way... but what's in it for us if we do help you with the Stag huh? Who's to say you won't just take his place? Or turn on us once he's dead?" The man chuckles and opens his arms wide. "Help me see the advantage here."
Meneas shrugs. "I don't think we need you, frankly. I'm only sparing you more death because my companions insist. Either way, we are not bandits, which I am reasonably sure cannot be said of you. Thus, rather than asking why you should trust us, we should be asking what worth you bring. Or would you prefer to have this conversation after more of you are bleeding out?"
"Alright, we've asked once. Can I start shooting now?"
Even though he’s mostly asking for the bandits not to do anything stupid, a chill runs down Lina’s spine at just how much threat Meneas is able to pack into those words. It’s very impressive.
Thinking quickly, she slips into the role of herald, and gestures to the menacing knight on his unearthly steed. “I would advise you not to trifle with the Hooded Prince!”
She hopes making up a soubriquet from the titulature of several Eldest won’t offend one of their followers, but she’s kind of on the spot here. Since Meneas and Signy’s hard line seems to have got the most promising response, she adjusts her own overtures accordingly, her smile sharper and showing more teeth than usual as she purrs, “But, we’re definitely taking the Stag’s place. We’re just not much interested in his … stuff.”
The scornful glance she joins to her words as she considers the bandits very definitely suggests she’s including them among the ill-gotten gains and other movables that the Stag Lord holds.
“Apart from anything magical,” she adds quickly, a thin, caustic sheen appearing on the hand that doesn’t rest lightly on the haft of her spear as she calls up the beginning of one of her cantrips to illustrate her point. “We’re mainly here to settle some old scores. Old Sneeg’s not lurking with him too, is he? But as for the rest … help us, and you can rummage through their pockets and bags for anything you can carry across the river, and stay off our turf from now on. Or you can leave now, or stay for a very long time six feet under it.”
"Or are you going to tell us that you don't know what came over you, and he twisted your arms, and you're very very sorry and will never do it again?"
Brental listens to the others' bluster and, like Morof, strikes as intimidating of a pose as he can. He also holds a hand up to delay Signy at least a moment longer.
"My companions have the right of it. The Stag Lord is a pox on these lands, both for those he steals from and those he claims to work with. As we have traveled across the Greenbelt, we have encountered many who have threatened our lives and wellbeing. We offered them the same thing we offer you now. Unfortunately most of them were too short-sighted."
Brental's eyes flash red at this mention. "We are not without mercy, but we are quite lethal."
The large muscular bandit with the shaved head raises his arms in a stance of surrender backing off slowly and smiling nervously seemingly intimated by the adventurer's dire threats, especially at the flash of red that came from the druid's eyes at the end. "Alright, alright now, let's all settle ourselves. We was only joking after all right men?"
A chorus of mumbled agreement comes from the other bandits, seemingly too afraid to dare question the orders of their new leader or of the strange band of men an women that had just slain the old boss so quickly.
The leader chuckles and nods his head at Lina. "Right, well, let's get back on the right foot here. How about we give you a little information, you give us some slack. We don't necessarily want to go toe to toe with the big guy ourselves, and honestly, I just don't trust you all to not kill us straight after you take on the Stag since you aren't interested in our line of work... But I can tell you lot that Ol' Sneeg is indeed held up there with the rest of the lot."
He lowers his hands and smiles revealing rows of blackened teeth. "See, now that weren't so bad no was it? A little quid-pro-quo huh? Now you give us some assurances and I can tell you much more, like who to watch out for, the password, a secret back entrance, or a hidden defense of theirs ye may not know of."
"In exchange, I want guaranteed free and safe passage out of here, if the government is coming on in we don't really want to be here anyways. So, you give us this and we can answer two questions of your choosin'. So what'll it be?" He sneers overconfidently.
Signy considers for only a moment.
"We'll give you what you want, safe passage out of the area. But we won't take half a loaf in return. You'll answer all our questions, tell us everything. After all, come tomorrow anything you've withheld won't have any value anyway. And we will check to make sure you've taken advantage of your safe passage out without delay. Better not disappoint us."
She would hate to admit it, but Lina knows a bit about desperate, and dealing with people she’d cross a river to avoid in happier circumstances. Mostly in a few particular ways, but so far it looks like it might not be one of the pointier ones just now.
“Like she said,” the witch says pertinaciously, head tilting briefly in Signy’s direction.
“We can guarantee you your safe passage out of this side of the river, and we won’t blame you if you’d rather just rifle your fellows’ pockets rather than stick around to take on the Stag himself, thems as aren’t clever enough to see the way the wind is blowing.”
Lina’s tone instinctively starts sliding a bit closer to the bandits’ in an attempt to soothe their wariness. “But we’re not heartless. At least, those of us who aren’t the boss. But if you’re worried about your ‘big guy’…”
She reaches slowly, unthreateningly, to extract a flask of tatzlwyrm venom from one of her pockets. “Every hunted tatzlywyrms? Fight well, and there could be more. Just something to sweeten the deal – not asking you to commit to seeing the whole fight through, take him on too. Now, about all those questions…”
She doesn’t mind handing over a flask or two of poison that she was thinking of using in the assault anyway as a show of good faith and confidence – handing over a particularly tricksy weapon, after all, basically – though she’ll hold onto her centipede venom for now.
She offers the flask as gently as anything, but the gleam in her eye is all too easily identifiable as witchy mischief as well as an alchemist's honest pride in her work.
"Riiiight," the man grumbles slowly taking the vial from Lina but with a healthy dose of skepticism on his face. It's easy to see he is dubious about this actually being the venom of a tatzlwyrm but then, he's never seen one before so how would he know the difference?
After pocketing the alchemical substance he nods to Signy. "Well, smart AND pretty now ain't we? Yes, my information is useless when we leave here but so am I once I've given you all you need to know. So how about this... I tell you two things now, then I leave you with one of my most pathetic men... and once we're out of sight he'll answer your other two questions that way we can be sure you wont try anything funny either?"
He smirks. "Sound fair to you lot?"
Meneas is quiet for a time as his companions - friends? - speak to the bandits. Hooded Prince, Lina? Really? He shifts in his saddle at the offer of safe passage, fingers tightening about his lance. I will make no promises.
"Generous of you. Who's your most pathetic man, and is he going to volunteer?" Meneas asks sardonically, casting his hooded gaze over the others. "I mean, if I were chosen to become what might be a sacrifice without agreeing to it... well, I might just betray my companions who were so willing to sell me out."
Signy sighs and shakes her head sadly.
"Why do you think you can bargain? Look, either you agree to doing things the way I laid out, or we've circled back around to us killing you all. I'm alright with that. This isn't about getting the information you have because we need it so badly, it's about us finding a reason for us to have some mercy."
"Look, this won't even be a contest. You're outmatched, it's okay to accept that. Your tactical positioning is crap. You're barely a bump in the road for us. Your trying to bargain is just dragging this out for no reason and boring me."
"Why do you even think you're in charge? Right after we killed that guy..." Signy points. "You just started talking like you are without any vote or agreement from anyone else. Maybe they all feel differently than you about things."
"How about we see. Anyone who's not alright with getting killed over having a leader dumb enough to think he can bargain without leverage, and whoever thinks they might be this oaf's 'most pathetic' guy, put your weapons down and step over to the right side away from the rest. You can go after we're done with the others. And yes you can take your arms with you when you go."
A light comes on in Signy's head.
"Or, wait a minute, after Menaes speared that guy, we got you acting the leader. Probably an improvement, but still irritating. Maybe what we should do is have Meneas spear you, and then we can see if we get someone even better next. And if not, well you what they say, third times the charm."
Signy lets her eyes scan across the group of bandits.
"What do the rest of you say? Should we just gig your talker there and try all this again? Maybe he's actually your most pathetic man?"
"To give you the whole story, on the way over here my suggestion was to wipe you out except for one, which is all we really need to get what we want. The others thought differently so here we are. BUT your clever leader has as much as admitted I was right, and even the most pathetic one of you all is good enough for our purposes. So, what do you say? Do we keep circling back to this? After all the last man standing will by default be his own leader. Or do the rest of you get to live also as gravy on the deal?"
Meneas is quiet for a time as his companions - friends? - speak to the bandits. Hooded Prince, Lina? Really?
The impasse stretches tight for a long moment as the most enterprising bandit holds out for a better bargain, and then snaps. As Signy lays down her amusingly ruthless logic, Lina can’t help but burst into a peal of laughter, juggling her spear into the crook of her elbow so she can add a delighted clap to her bow in the Caydenite’s direction.
In another moment, her spear is back in her hand as she adds, “It wouldn’t hurt for anyone feeling reasonable to start talking on their way over here. Passwords, back doors, traps, all of it.”
Morof looks the group over but isn't certain he can ascertain the level of proficiency any of these folk would have with magic at just a glance. None seem to be dedicated magic users at least.
As murmurs of discontent begin to spread amongst the other men behind the de facto leader of the group an evident bead of sweat runs down the man's scalp as he can feel the tides turning swiftly against him. "Alright! Alright!" He groans throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation. "You bloody win alright? I'll tell you lot everything you want to know and then I never want to see your bloody faces ever again!"
He scowls, "If ya take the main entrance into the camp I suggest you stick to the road, the whole hillside is infested with undead! Some kinda ancient curse... anyone who so much as steps a foot off the beaten path is a dead man... Oh and the passcode is 'A child scorned by the village will burn it down to feel its warmth.'" The man shrugs. "Kinda morbid if you ask me but it's better than the last passcode. Least this one actually makes sense... If'n I were you though I'd avoid the whole mess... See around the back is a secret entrance directly to the southeast of the fort, in a sunken section of earth... it's supposed the be a hidden escape route in case we got surrounded but it works both ways."
He then turns his head in Signy's direction and smirks, "Oh and there are plenty of fun characters in there Sneg, Akiros, Auchs, Ayles Megesen, Dirty Jeb Megesen, Cragger Kench, Fat Norry, Jex the Snitch, Topper Red, The Stag and his creepy old man in the basement... but you blondie... you I think will have the most fun with Dovan from Nisroch... he enjoys the fair haired ones."
He chuckles darkly, "Any of them sound interesting to you? I can tell you all about 'em but it depends how much time ya got."
"See? That's wasn't so bad was it? Now we're all fine with each other. We have plenty of time for you to introduce that rogue's gallery you named off. Tell us all about them."
While the bandit's added information regarding Dovan from Nisroch makes Signy's skin crawl, she's fully in and committed to the role she's playing.
"But whatever in the world makes you think I like fun? Don't make me gag."
Brental's ears perk up at the mention of Sneeg. That was one they were actually looking for. He wonders how many of them are truly loyal, and how many could be turned if given a chance to surrender. That was a dozen people that they might have to cut through, and potentially more.
"Is it just those dozen currently at the fort, or are those merely the toughest?"
He likewise encourages the now-cowed bandits to provide further information. The back entrance was sounding more and more promising, especially given the undead infesting the hillside.
Meneas shifts on Veil's back, considering the information they've received. Names, with descriptions. Useful, maybe, but not enough. The hidden passage intrigues him, though. It would be harder to take Veil through, but a surprise attack may well make it worth it.
He flexes his fingers absently. Though the fact he knows of it means he's probably higher up in the gang than he wants us to think. The temptation to start killing the men before they can harm others grows in him, even as his companions interrogate them more.
Lina’s mercurial mood shifts again as the bandit leader’s insinuations register. Her own tone doesn’t change, still easy, if brash, but a certain iron light settles behind her eyes.
“Is that so? Maybe we’ll see how well Dovan’ll get along with the Hag Queen,” she says smoothly. She’s not actually cruel enough to follow through on it – even Calistria can take things a bit far for Lina’s liking, though the Unquenchable Fire is the head of her people’s pantheon, and goodness knows Lina’s marked by her own experiences with certain carlins – but that’s not to say that she can’t sometimes see where Gyronna’s followers are coming from.
“But while we’re on the subject,” she continues (changing it abruptly, actually), “we don’t really care-”
Lina’s about to say, how any of them take their tea, but she can almost hear her former guildmistress’ displeasure even at this distance in space and time. Why on earth would you even hint at rejecting something so helpful in … our trade? “-about everyone’s taste in poetry, say. Maybe mostly what weapons they use and any surprises with them. Just so we can keep it sporting.”
That’s a barefaced lie. While she is interested in which of the bandits named might be lumpen thugs, and which might be the sort she’ll definitely want not to expose her back to, Lina has no intention of being sporting about it, though she would appreciate the fittingness of slipping a knife between the ribs of a footpad, and simply overpowering a brute by main force.
“And then we’ll be out of your hair, and you can be on your way to Not-Our-Problem.” She can’t resist carding her free hand through a hank of her own mane to illustrate her point.
The bandit shrugs, "From what I've heard I din't think any sane individual enjoys the kind of 'fun' that Dovan does... aside from maybe Auchs but that's different... he's just like a kid pouring water on ant hills."
"Being out of your hair sounds like what I'd prefer the most so I'll just let ya know that most the lads use swords and bows... Auchs has his club, Dovan one of them fancy rapiers, and the Stag himself prefers the bow."
He then turns to Brental and says with the biggest sharp-toothed grin. "I've told you about every single person in the camp right now. The rest have been sent off on some sort of a revenge mission while the Stag just sits on his drunk lazy arse... Now, is there anything else I can assist you lot with or can we proceed to sod off in opposite directions?"
“We can,” Lina nods gratefully, pointing in the direction of the river.
“You know,” she adds, with an overlay of sweet on top of the sour, “some unasked advice. They say the mustangs in the Kamelands are something to see – and tame. If you don’t feel like settling, trading horses is still less likely to result in sprouting a lance.”
She’s trying to be helpful, really. She worries that Signy and Meneas’ sword-arms might be getting even twitchier than her own. It’s a long shot, but if there’s even a chance that these goons could sort of, remotely, calm down before some other group of adventurers has to put them down, that would probably be a good thing.
But what’s really interested her now is the idea of cursed lands that leave the dead restless, and her thoughts go haring off in that direction as soon as she’s said her piece. It sounds like an interesting problem to look into, but unless there’s a loophole of some sort – well, it will be a long time until someone like Lina could hope to dismantle such a curse simply by throwing enough of her own magic at it.
"Nuh uh uh! Not quite yet. 'Some sort of revenge mission' is the kind of statement that makes me all sorts of curious. Let's hear every little thing about it. Who? Where? Direction? Distance? Days gone before they're returning? How many? Target?"
"Don't think there's any detail too small or unimportant to leave out."
Brental was about to hop on the same concern as Signy. Revenge? Against whom? As far as Brental knew, he and his group were the primary ones to agitate against the bandits in this region recently.
He listens intently to the responses, wondering both whether they're withholding any information and how accurate it is. He stands fast, but doesn't add any noise to the chatter.