The bandit smirks and shrugs his shoulders. "No idea really. I believe there are about two dozen of em and they were headed north last I heard. Seemed in an awful rush to me." He sneers wickedly.
Signy sighs in exaggerated sadness.
"I'm disappointed you've lied to us. This changes things. Your terms can't be so favorable anymore. You can still leave and vacate the Stolen Lands. But we don't really have any trust in you anymore. Maybe you're also lying about leaving and who knows what else."
"You all can keep knives and daggers, but you'll be surrendering all of your other weapons to us before you go. That way if you do something stupid like not leave, it will be harder for you to harm anyone between now and when we run you down and kill you."
Meneas looks to his companions, his fingers clenching around his lance, before he rolls his shoulders slightly. Maybe they'll head north and get caught out by the Brevic authorities. Unlikely. Really... why are we letting them go to begin with?
"We should get rid of them." Meneas says finally. "They're clearly not trustworthy, and I'd rather not have whatever deaths they cause in the future on my conscience when I could've stopped them. Or rather, ended them."
Lina gets the feeling she’s missed something, which is often the case with the deeper roots of motivation and feeling and what makes shoots and people bend in the directions they do.
She resists the impulse to shrug. Bandits tend to be deeply unsatisfied with their lot in life, no? Feel owed something that’s been unfairly taken away from them?
The others seem to be taking the idea of revenge more seriously than she is, though, and she thinks vaguely of the theories they’d spun out after Tyg and Peri’s cryptic comments about the more human monsters in the woods. But then Signy’s saying the bandits to hand are lying, and Meneas’ patience is exhausted.
“The leaders are the worst, and the mouthy ones,” she says, as she thinks further back to the entanglements she’s gotten into most recently, and the young man being reformed at Oleg’s, and her softer side is touched, so she tries one last time to avoid an absolute bloodbath, even as her glittering spear almost hums for it in her hand.
“Run,” she tells the less assertive bandits, simply, catching one set of eyes after another. “Do as she says, and run.”
Lina half-turns to also catch, well, where she imagines Meneas’ eye must be under his cowl, at any rate. “They’re like leaves in the wind. You can spend days raking the very last ones out of the garden, but more will always blow in the next season, and in the meantime there’s other things that need doing that will do even more to keep everything healthy.”
She’s rather laboured the metaphor, she knows, so she adds more directly, “We can always track them down again afterwards. I’d be more worried about the more important villains catching on and slipping away once people stop coming back, since Sneeg and the other lieutenants and all are likelier to give us more trouble.”
With that, she looks warily at the bandits’ unofficial spokesman once again, resigning herself to the likelihood that this particular glade might see at least one more body hit its floor today. Bad day to aspire to leadership, it seems.
Brental sighs almost simultaneous to Signy, hand wandering to his sword. Why lie so blatantly? They had been coming to some sort of agreement. It might not have been perfect, but it was an opportunity for this to avoid devolving further. To break the cycle of this land and forge something new. And now they were throwing it away.
Brental's face darkens, and he swears for a moment that he feels the roots beneath them twist and beckon to be set forth on these miscreants. His patience was wearing this as well. He tries to calm his breathing, remembering the lessons of his mentors in the Green Faith. Violence and negotiation were both tools to be used as needed. Recognizing which was called for and being sufficiently proficient in their application was what he was called to do. Planting and uprooting, nurturing and culling, all in recognition of the balance. Brental had hoped that there were more like Vlad in these ranks, and that they might inspire a revolution. But that was the stuff of Taldan novels with trope-laden heroics. This was messier, and Brental had to accept that.
"This is your last chance to leave here with your lives," he seethes, "And best you stay on that side of the river or you'll wish you had earned a quick death on this day."
A thought crosses Brental's mind that might give Meneas a bit of peace. With any luck, these men would be foolish enough to try to cross the river, and Davik Nettles would secure his revenge on them.
The bandit leader spits derisively on the ground at Signy's request but begrudgingly complies tossing his sword and bow to the ground and urging the others to do the same.
"Alright, alright then... no need to get fresh with me love. You can't blame a bloke for trying to improve his lot in life now can ya?" he scowls.
"Well then... if that concludes our bussiness we'll just be on our way then. We have no desire to cross blades with the emmissaries of the... what did you say? 'Hooded Prince?' Something like that? May want to workshop that name a tad but regardless we'll be on our way now and hopefully we aint never gonna be seein' one another again... Got it?" With that the man motions for the rest of his crew to begin backing away from the others headed in a southernly direction.
Meanwhile Brental's beetle friends hovers lazily through the air. Its wings humming until it perches itself in Brental's outstreched palm and communicates its report.
Brental begins gathering the blades and bows into the group's bag of holding after the bandits leave. After the bandits are well out of earshot, he looks at Meneas.
"I doubt Davik Nettles will allow them to cross. He may kill them in the attempt."
He also relates his beetles' report. "Well we have a good sense of the general layout, and some information about the occupants of generally dubious reliability. This doesn't change what I would prepare overly much. So if we want to strike now, I am prepared. All that we need to decide is which avenue to press and how much sabotage we want to engage in."
Meneas growls low in his chest as the bandits leave, though he relaxes somewhat at Brental's point. "Well, hopefully he'll catch them out, then." He doesn't sound certain, though. "Assuming they don't know to avoid him."
Shaking his head, he takes a deep breath. "I think that we should scout out the retreat tunnel, see if it exists at all. Our informants weren't exactly happy to share what they did. Of course, assuming they were telling the truth, that means they are probably higher up in the organization than they wanted us to believe. Another reason to go hunt them down." One fist clenches.
"But... if the hills have undead, we know which way the bandits will attempt to retreat - or rather, which they won't. That could be useful if we are willing to split up... but I don't think we have the numbers to do that."
Brental shrugs. "We could even try to block the retreat tunnel to prevent their exit. But if we need to retreat, it may be good to have a second avenue."
The druid warily considers the mental map he has developed with his beetle's report. "They will likely have archers atop their watchtowers, and our approach will be easy to spot without some kind of diversion. If one or two of us makes a fuss out front, it could buy the rest enough time and distraction to sneak into the tunnel. Of course that could be more trouble than it's worth."
“It might be easier to decide once we find this secret passage, see how long it’s likely to be,” Lina suggests, trying to hold the image of the fort in her head and calculate some approximate dimensions. “And/or if we can time things right. As you say, if it’s not too tricky to move around inside the palisade, so we can regroup when we strike, get them off-balance…”
“I imagine Meneas’d be happier on Veil’s back,” she acknowledges, “and it might be worth a two-pronged assault that plays to all our strengths. My magic’s weaker against undead, and I only have one healing spell prepared, but if a couple of us or so are brave enough to try to draw the bandits’ attention while the rest get into a flanking position through the tunnel – maybe.”
Unfortunately, this sort of planning doesn’t play to her strengths at all, and Lina finds herself wishing her sweetheart, with her architectural sense, were here, not least because the general description of what’s inside the palisade sounds quite like some typical aspects of elven fortress design. She wonders if she’ll ever see Imvrildara in person, perhaps with her own knowledgeable Kyoni tour guide.
She shakes off the reverie that she knows she’s using not to worry about what she’s about to get into (mostly), and also Meneas’ mood. She can’t blame him, but, and then again, “There were rather a lot of them? Maybe it’s more that the Stag is smarter than we’re giving him credit for, making sure that if he has to leave in a hurry, he can take some men with him so that he wouldn’t have to rebuild from nothing. These that are left, though-” not least this Dovan creature, she thinks, “-probably absolutely need to be filled with steel. Save anyone else the trouble.”
“Except -” she adds, remembering Kesten’s instructions, “- for Sneeg, if we can take him living. We wouldn’t want to do anything to hurt Signy’s chances with her beau, when we report about his quarry.”
She can’t resist a bit of mild teasing, trying to make sure the mood doesn’t get too grim.
For her part Signy watches the bandits go without saying anything more. She's happy to be done talking to them and doesn't want to break the spell of silence. Afterward she helps gather the surrendered weapons.
Lina's comment is irksome enough that Signy feels it needs a response. But it's juvenile enough that the only thing Signy can think to do is stick her tongue out at her.
At least they've stopped bugging me about the seed stuff.
There is one thing Signy really must ask though.
"Who's Davik Nettles?"
"Some sort of undead that guards a ford over the Shrike. He's not very fond of the Stag Lord's bandits." Meneas answers Signy. "I think he wanted the Stag Lord's corpse? Head? I don't fully recall."
The knight-errant shrugs, before considering the tactical difficulties before them. "I'd rather not split up - with the number of bandits that our erstwhile informants have mentioned, and their advantages in having a fortification... I think that they'd be able to focus on one team and kill them quick enough that the other wouldn't have a chance to ride in to the rescue. While I would prefer to have Veil with me, I'm not certain which direction would be better."
"That said, I think one of us - Signy? - should check this secret tunnel. Maybe it's large enough that Veil can fit through if I'm not on her back." He doesn't sound hopeful.
|
Morof is a little worried for his new friends. He knows they realize the bandits lied, but they seem like they could easily turn just as bullying as them if they're not careful. Still, he doesn't know how to word this. He says shyly "I'm going to work on some scrolls to be better prepared for when we go."
Signy is surprised by Meneas's answer. "So is this undead guy a pal of yours or something now?"
"I think it's worth looking into that secret entrance, if it's really there."
Signy shrugs offhandedly.
"I can check and see. I do think it's better we not split up. But really if the back entrance doesn't pan out, we didn't learn anything that changes things much. I still like bluffing our way in as the next best option."
Meneas waves his hand. "Friend is a strong term. He didn't try to kill us outright, but he also denied us passage over the Shrike. If we'd insisted, I think he might have been even less friendly."
He looks at Morof as the man leaves, before turning his attention back to Signy. "It's not a bad plan, but I'd like to prepare for other options as well. Just in case." Flexing his fingers, he continues. "Now, the main problem is that if we bluff our way in, they'll know that someone's present. If we try sneaking in, then bluffing in isn't exactly an option either."
Brental forgot for a moment that Signy had been missing on her memory-lapsed possible First World sojourn when they had encountered the undead river guardian. "Nettles was a toll collector who ran afoul of the Stag Lord, and the bandit killed him. The grudge has persisted in undeath."
As the planning continues, Brental considers the others' contributions. Right, trying to Sneeg alive would be good. Bluffing seems risky, but promising if it lets them get past a line or two of defense. Splitting the party did not seem effective past an initial surprise. But the more information they could gather...
"Signy does seem the sneakiest of us," he says. "Morof, do you have the ability to render her, or any of us for that matter, invisible? We have a general layout, but the more we know, the more likely we will be to keep the tide turned in our way."
Most likely, a bit more reconnaissance, and then a frontward assault, whether through duplicity or slings and arrows. Oh, and then. "If we want to gather more, though, at least some of us should monitor the surrounding lands to watch whether the departed stay away or choose to return."
"Now, the main problem is that if we bluff our way in, they'll know that someone's present. If we try sneaking in, then bluffing in isn't exactly an option either."
“I suppose it depends on what we feel happiest with. I mean, obviously striking without warning gives us the sharpest edge, but if we’re convincing enough, we might be able to talk our way close enough for it not to make too much of a difference, especially if they’re kind enough to space themselves suitably while we make our introductions.”
“If at least one of us could be invisible, that would be convenient,” Lina muses, before shrugging, “But I’m happy to try most things, so just let me know where you want me. Though I honestly probably wouldn’t be the best as a lookout, left to my own devices.”
Morof is a little worried for his new friends. He knows they realize the bandits lied, but they seem like they could easily turn just as bullying as them if they're not careful. Still, he doesn't know how to word this. He says shyly "I'm going to work on some scrolls to be better prepared for when we go."
Looking around to invite the balance of stronger opinions , the witch notices that Morof’s wandered a bit further off, lookng maybe like he's thinking something over.
She doesn’t mean to hover, but this close to the fort, she thinks she probably should do the responsible arcanist bit and make sure the group’s other, proper mage doesn’t get so far out of sight that there could be trouble if more bandits come back.
Meneas flexes his fingers. "Wait." He looks at Vod. "While you're distinctive enough on your own, Brental, I'm pretty sure we wouldn't be able to pass Vod off as a bandit's pet. Even though we know the code, a mammoth is going to draw attention. I don't think that they know the faces of everyone in their group, but they'll probably remember not having a mammoth - or, indeed, an aasimar."
Signy circles the fort wide, what should be beyond anyone' sight in the darkness, and comes directly at it from the rear. When she gets close, Signy starts looking for any indications of a trail or path. If the mound is packed with undead, there should be a safe way to come out if they ever planned to use the secret exit, or if it really exists. She also looks for any sign of an entrance.
To the southeast of the fort Signy discovers, after much effort and woth the knowledge she obtained from the bandit leader, a slightly sunken section of ground that covers a seemingly forgotten trap door. After about 5 minutes of work she manages to clear the earth off of it. She finds opening the stone trap door to be difficult to do quietly, as the ancient stone hinge grinds. Once the door is opened, a 10-foot-deep shaft is revealed, leading down to a 5-foot-wide tunnel supported by ancient timbers.
Signy is pleased to find there is actually an entrance, but the initial 10' drop to the tunnel is a problem since she's alone.
If I drop down, how do I get back out for sure? How noticeable is the open door from up there in the fort?
Signy looks around quickly to figure out 2 things. 1. is there anything she can safely attach a rope to up above, or that she could quietly get a piton into to hold the rope? 2. Does there appear to be anyone watching the area at the back who might notice the open door?
Fortunately it seems as though actual guard duty at the Stag Lord's Fort is rather lax as Signy can't seem to lay eyes on anyone actively keeping watch.
As far as an area to attach a rope, Signy seems out of luck. However, it may just be possible to attach the piton to the actual palisade though doing so without arousing attention will be a tricky endeavor indeed.
Signy decides maybe it would be better to fetch some help. She'd look really stupid (if she didn't die, and she'd still look stupid) if she trapped herself down there. She also doesn't want to risk catching anyone's attention. Besides something has occurred to her and she wants to run it by the others.
She slowly and carefully closes the trapdoor and makes her way back to the others. Again she goes in a wide circle around the place to prevent being seen.
When she gets back she fills the others in on what she's found.
"So the tunnel is there! But there's a drop of maybe ten feet straight down from the trapdoor to the tunnel. I didn't have a way to fix a rope and didn't want to get stuck so I didn't go down to explore."
"Besides, something came to mind. What if that guy was telling about half the truth, or leaving some things out? If the hill the fort sits on is full of undead, maybe that's a tomb entrance? That wouldn't necessarily mean we couldn't use it, or it's dangerous. But it's an extra thing to keep in mind."
"Anyway, with a second person along to help with getting in and out, I could take a look inside. We'd need to go back right away while we still have cover of darkness though."
"I'd offer to help, Signy, but I'm blind out here and not sneaky to begin with." Meneas says dryly. "Much though I would wish it otherwise."
He considers a moment. "I don't think Vod or Veil will be able to go down a straight drop with any reasonable ease."
"Yeah, even if they could get down, it's way too tight for any animals to go in that way."
Signy is worked up now so she starts pacing. She's convinced the tunnel can help, she just needs to figure out how best to use it.
It takes Meneas pointing out the definite oddities of Brental and Vodnykel for the druid to recognize how strange he would be marching up to the gates. "You're right, of course," he admits. "I could transmute Vod into a different form--either a small stone figurine or another animal--to assist with the ruse. But believe it or not I am unable to affect myself similarly. I could change the color of my face and hair to be...less noticeable."
Brental keeps himself busy during the rest of the day with preparations for the assault, worrying about Signy's solo mission, and considering contingency plans. He still wishes that he had been able to convince the others to return to the trading post. The knowledge of the Green Faith could be crucial if Tyg and Peri's stories foretold what he theorized.
When Signy returns, he is relieved. Her assessment is interesting, and he immediately begins to retrieve items from Vodnykel's saddlebags: crampons, pitons, ropes, a hammer, and a grappling hook.
"I have plenty of items to help us climb," he says. Thoughtfully, he continues, "If it is difficult to find a place to safely attach a rope, then I believe I could summon an earth elemental to pass through any material and lodge some rope securely to the area. Unfortunately I don't speak Terran, so I'm not sure how effectively I could communicate our intentions with it."
He looks around at the others. "Does anyone speak Terran? Or have spells that could guide us in such communication?" It is, of course, something that Brental could do...tomorrow. But that doesn't solve their problem on this night.
If no one does, Brental shrugs. "In either case, a 10 foot drop is little, and I am a reasonably capable climber even without a rope. I could let you down easily with the rope, make my way down, and ensure our exit with relative ease. But I am not particularly prone to stealth as you are. If we keep a wide berth and manage to avoid detection, I am happy to join you."
He packs the items in a small bag. "I'm ready when you are."
"What about this? I'll sneak in alone through the tunnel and hide inside. Depending on how things go, like if I'm found, I'll say I came in with the bandits we just let go. I'll tell them they're a pack of losers so I decided to secretly stay because I want to join up with the Stag Lord himself. When the time comes, I'll open the gate for you."
Signy is quite pleased to have Brental as a volunteer.
"Let's go! I think it will be alright. Nobody seems to be paying attention to the rear. As long as you don't do anything that's positively loud, we should be okay."
"Oh! Anyone have any oil? I need to quiet some hinges."
"I'll do my best to be quiet!" he says, with more vigor than he anticipates at first. After a moment, he whispers, "I promise."
Unfortunately, Brental is fresh out of oil, animal fat, or anything else greasy that they could use. And gathering such material at this time of the night seems unwise, unfortunately.
"No, but I do have acid, if you want to melt them? Or soften them, I suppose." Meneas shrugs slightly. "How good a liar are you, Signy? If you get stuck in there alone, I'd rather you be able to talk your way out, 'cause there's no way we'd be able to fight our way to you in time."
While everyone keeps busy while waiting for it to get dark enough to try slinking closer to the fort, Lina spends her time processing the mandrake she’s found. It’s rather soothing: at this point, she could almost do it in her sleep - though that’s mainly due to ample practice and the simplicity of the task. It mostly just calls for maceration, some emulsifier, a bit of medium, a drop of honey to help keep things fresh…
After a bit, she has everything ready in a handful of more or less tidy little leaf-wrapped cylinders. She would be fussier about it if the stuff’s virtue wasn’t expended so quickly, but as it is, it’s not the sort of stuff that one necessarily wants to keep around after its more than aesthetic qualities have been exhausted. As any alchemist could tell you, reaching for the wrong tube at the wrong time could lead to very messy complications.
And then, it’s just a matter of cleaning up and keeping an eye out for any interesting developments at the fort.
She’ll have to think a bit about more practice and other things that might help if she’s going to be doing a lot more skulking about in future, Lina thinks ruefully. She’s normally more of a talking her way into, out of, or through it sort of sneak.
“I’ve got some oil,” she says, handing over a flask, “since I’m partial to lanterns rather than torches. And, of course-”
She offers a couple of doses of the fruit of her labours to Signy as well. “Just in case we want to make an occasion of it.”
As Brental and Signy approach the backside of the fort, Signt is silent as a mouse however Brental... manages to accidentally kick loose some rubble on the hillside causing a small rockslide to come tumbling down.
"Oi! Who goes there?!" A voice cries out from the other side of the palisade.
"Someone skulkin' around back here?"
Signy bites back a curse and throws herself to the ground, yanking Brenatl down along with her.
"Stay flat on your belly, face down, hands tucked in. Don't move a muscle until I tell you to. Not. A. Sound"
she hisses.
Signy flips her cloak's hood up over her hair and follows her own advice.
Why would they assume someone and not something? Brental wonders, holding his breath, and crouching down under his cloak.
Less than a minute later the two can hear the sounds of a man stepping up wooden planks which creak and groan at his weight.
They then hear the man's voice again, this time at a higher elevation. "Could 'ave sworn I 'eard somethin'."
The wood groans a bit longer as the man shifts his weight around then a minite or so later they hear a frustrated sigh. "Must 'ave been the wind."
The wood groans lower and lower until the hear feet on dirt growing more and more distant until they are completely inaudible.
Signy gives it another minute or two beyond the disappearance of the footsteps before she taps Brental to keep going. It's not enough for the man to look and see nothing. Extra time for his mind to wander on to other things is what dulls his senses and makes him complacent.
"Slow, quiet, and careful."
When she reaches the trapdoor, she takes the flask of oil and applies it generously to the door's hinges before opening it.
The door opens quietly and cleanly after the generous application of oil by Signy.
Brental slinks forward and pulls out the knotted rope to let Signy down. He braces to ensure that she has an even climb down.
After she gets down, he retracts the rope and climbs down on his own.
Slow, quiet, and careful.
"Be sure to close the door behind you."
Signy takes the rope down and quickly positions herself to look down the tunnel to see what's next. If needed she'll light a torch for Brental.
Brental closes the stone door, his eyes glowing lightly with his innate celestial darkvision.
"I'll back you up, but I worry I'm a risk now if they heard me on the approach. Maybe I should trail you as we go forward."
He sighs. He didn't like being a liability.
From where she’s watching with the others, Lina can only notice with some surprise that Signy and Brental seem to have disappeared. Elven vision notwithstanding, she gets too easily distracted to be much help in keeping an eye on things. With her plants and potions, there’s normally enough for her to do to quiet her restless mind so nothing quite gets away from her, but sitting still and silent…
She wiggles a bit, and tries to concentrate on being as ready as she can be for any unpleasant surprises.
The passage does not extend far underground. The shaft is dark and cramped but supported by ancient timbers that seem sturdy despite their age.
On the other side there is another small door leading into the fort itself. This door opens much more cleanly than the other and opens up under a set of wooden stairs leading up onto a platform above that they reason is what they heard the bandit ascending and descending before.
Other than that the two find themselves pressed into a narrow back area between the palisade and the crumbling stone tower to the north and a somewhat nicer and definitely more recent wooden structure under the platform to the west.
To the north they can here laughter and shouting of several men in revelry.
Here though, the smell of waste hits the two hard and immediately... it seems that back here is where the bandits choose to do their business as it's rather our of the way.
"What now, Signy?" Brental whispers, wrinkling his nose at the earthy, acrid smell. He's happy to let her take the lead in this little infiltration mission, whatever she decides.
"Wait right here for a minute. I'm gonna take a look so I know where we are compared to the gate and towers."
First of all Signy takes a moment to ask for the Lucky Drunk's help.
Then Signy creeps forward just enough to orient the tunnel entrance in relation to those features of the fort. She peeks at the group of men if she doesn't have to expose herself to do it, then retreats back to the tunnel and Brannart.
While the other two watchtowers are on the north-west and south-west sides of the fort she has to stand practically directly undeneath the final watchtower on the northeastern side of the forf in order to see the men.
Here a small, dusty yard separates the palisade from the inner structures. The ground here is of hard-packed barren earth. Dozens of barrels lie stacked against the inner wall of the palisade, each with a wooden or metal bucket sitting nearby.
There are two rather skinny horses directly in front of Signy and beyond them in the yars itself are three men casually loitering about, an older Varisian man with graying hair and an unruly beard, a soft spoken man with a calm demeanor, and another weasely looking fellow.