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Swinging a fist towards the one attacking Hamish, Jalros lands a solid blow before turning his attention to the one that's stabbed him, bringing his fist down like a hammer upon it.
*SPLAT* goes the oversized bug, it's guts spraying all over the big guy. Jalros shows no reaction except to look up and find the next one.
Jalros crushes the stirge as it passes him by, then splats the one attached to him.
Naomi slashes and kills another, but Thistle misses the attack.
Elgrin slashes and cuts his buzzing foe in half.
Guthlag's eyes go wide as he watches the lifeblood drain from his wolf. He steps forward with a sudden fury. Lips curling, teeth bared, he is every bit the brutal half-orc he was raised to be.
Cann twists and rips at the flying insect as well, her own teeth long and sharp as steel hooks.
Guthlag bats one of the creatures away - it hits a tree and falls down, lifeless.
Cann shreds another to pieces in a few seconds.
The two remaining creatures continue their assault - one manages to attach itself to Gubble, but the second one misses Jalros.
Focused on killing the stirge, Naomi heard the others fighting as well. Turning she sees that most of the bug-birds were down but one Stirge had latched itself to Gubble. Moving towards her friend she tells him. "Gubble stand very still!" Slashing at the stirge, Thistle snaps at it as well, trying to get it off the halfling.
Gubble does as suggested, knowing thrashing around while other slash and nip toward you is not an intelligent plan.
Not having to look far for another flying bug as one comes right at him, Jalros attempts to swat that one aside.
But this time, the brawler isn't so fortunate as the bug manages to dodge the backhand. Showing no signs of frustration, Jalros readies for the counter-attack.
Guthlag flanks with Thistle, attempting to finish off the last of the horrible creatures within his reach.
Cann shakes her caught prey, twisting her head from side to side so that it's corpse flops wildly.
Thistle rips one of the dastardly creatures away from Gubble, and crushes its windpipe.
Jalros misses his swat, but Guthlag comes to the rescue, flanking with the brawler and cutting the last flying menace in half.
Apart from the twitching of the creatures on the ground oozing blood and viscera, and the crackling of the campfire, everything around you is quiet again.
Seeing the bug-bird creatures go down, Naomi quickly looks around for the rest of the flock swarm.
Satisfied there wasn't a second wave, she Sheaths her sickle and bends down beside Thistle, petting the wolf. "Who's a good girl, Thistle, Thistle's a good girl." As she gingerly takes the dead 'stirge' from the wolfs mouth, "I don't think you want to eat that girl." tossing it in the crackling fire.
Standing back up she removes the bolt and returns it to her quiver, uncocking the weapon. Rubbing her eyes she asks, "About what time is it?" as she looks to the horizon, trying to determine if she can sleep a little more.
Hamish looks around for any further threats and finding none, lowers his blade. He swipes his shirt sleeve across his brow only to have it come away covered in blood and bits of the stirge Jalros obliterated with his fist. Turning a bit green in the face, Hamish begins scrubbing at the gore until he's certain it's all gone. After which he settles down next to the fire. The rush of being jolted awake and stumbling about in the dark while swarmed by birdbugs, insures little further rest for the evening so he simply joins the last watch, keeping the fire stoked and brewing coffee as the sky starts to lighten toward morning.
Elgrin is quite a talented sleeper and so after it's apparent that no more stirges are in the vicinity he drifts off to sleep until he's woken for the third watch
Realizing it was the middle of the night, Naomi heads back to her bedroll, calling the the wolf, "Come Thistle." as she lays down. Thistle, sniffing at the dead bird bug one last time heads back to her spot beside Naomi. Spinning three times she lays down beside her friend, tucking her nose under her tail and is fast asleep.
Gubble thanks amazing Thistle, tries to bit a recording of the alieness of the wicked little bugs, but is rather winded from being Drank from, so he goes back to bed.
Guthlag moved quickly from person to person after the fighting was done. He was in disbelief that all the foes had been vanquished, and remained frantic and panicky for several minutes. Cann chewed noisily at the Stirge she had caught, until Naomi scolded Thistle for doing the same. After settling down, Guthlag stared off into the woods for almost an hour. Firelight and shadow danced on his face, and he held his club close at hand.
When his watch ended, sleep did not come easily.
Once the bugs were all dead, Jalros calmly wipes the goo off of himself before moving to settle back down. Noticing Guthlag acting quite agitated, he moves over to him and places a hand on his shoulder to halt him for a moment, looking at him calmly. "Guthlag, what is the matter?"
”I slept unquietly,” Guthlag tells Jalros. The half orc has been in a somber mood, the stillness of the wood around them getting under his skin. ”And I am young to battle.” He looks Jalros over, noting the hard ridges of the bigger man’s knuckles. ”Were you unshaken when our watch was disturbed?”
Looking hard at the half-orc a moment, Jalros crosses his arms and takes a deep breath, his eyes focused on something beyond anything present - as if in deep contemplation - before finally cutting his eyes back to the half-orc and saying, "Get some rest, Guthlag, and do not be troubled. I will keep watch for the rest of the night." He gives him a pat on the shoulder before returning to his post, pulling out some jerky from within his pack and tearing a piece off with his teeth as the brawler continues with his watch.
Hamish listens to Guthlag and Jalros, his hands behind his head as he leans against his pack.
"I'm always pretty wound up after a fight, specially at night." The young swordsman says. "Rook used to always laugh at me saying I'd never make a good a true warrior if I couldn't fall asleep with a dragon breathing fire right over my head." He shrugs his elbows and leans forward to stir the fire.
"Guess I'm still not much of a warrior since I'm wide awake and all we fought were a bunch of bulked up mosquitoes." He snorts and chuckles "Can't say I'll be wanting to eat at the Stirge again anytime soon."
Hamish listens to Guthlag and Jalros, his hands behind his head as he leans against his pack.
"I'm always pretty wound up after a fight, specially at night." The young swordsman says. "Rook used to always laugh at me saying I'd never make a good a true warrior if I couldn't fall asleep with a dragon breathing fire right over my head." He shrugs his elbows and leans forward to stir the fire.
"Guess I'm still not much of a warrior since I'm wide awake and all we fought were a bunch of bulked up mosquitoes." He snorts and chuckles "Can't say I'll be wanting to eat at the Stirge again anytime soon."
Taking another bite of his jerky, Jalros angles his attention toward the Swashbuckler. "Who is this 'Rook' you speak of, Hamish? A mentor?"
"Rook. Aye, he was my sergant in the Riverwatch." Hamish says, he voice growing warm and bright as he talks of the old soldier. "Meanest, hardest son of dragon you'll ever tangle with. Fights dirty, talks dirty. Fought during the invasion, but didn't go off with the King's army and disappear like my pa did."
"But despite all his iron hearted talk, he saw us through more than a few scraps on the river. Orcs, gnolls, pirates of all stripes and a few sorcerous entaglements." That last brings a scowl to his face.
"Rook taught me more than how to fight, taught me how to survive a fight. Just couldn't teach me how to sleep after a fight."
"Does he still live?" Guthlag asks. The talk between Jalros and Hamish is calming his nerves. He sits by the fire, but can't stop glancing out into the shadows that surround the camp.
Listening intently to the man, Jalros cuts his eyes over at Guthlag when he asks his question before turning them back to Hamish. "With your talk of surviving the various 'scraps', it is obvious this sergeant of yours has taught you well. And the sleeping part is not that difficult. You simply have to close your eyes, find what it is that brings you peace, and ruminate on it." He explains plainly, looking back out into the landscape while keeping an ear open to see if the swashbuckler responds to the half-orc's question.
Hamish bobs his head and laughs softly at Guthlag's question. "Old Lady Death is going to have come herself if she wants Rook hanging about the underworld with her." He says. "He's still alive, although the Riverguard finally kicked him off the active duty lists. As far as I know, he still trains a few select recruits every season. Otherwise he's usually down at the docks fishing from one of the piers or emptying a keg or two in one of the pubs."
"Well now, maybe that's my trouble." Hamish responds to Jalros. "Can't say for certain if I've found what truly brings me peace." He leans back gazing up at clouds filtering the moonlight. "Maybe that`ll be something I discover on this little excursion of ours."
He looks over at the big brawler. "What brings you peace?"
Taking a deep breath as he watches the trees dance to the lead of the wind, Jalros finally looks over at the swashbuckler and answers in a candid manner with, "I'm always at peace, Hamish, because I've nothing to lose," before turning his gaze back to the scenery. "You will discover it, Hamish. In time."
Hamish nods his head slowly as Jalros turns back to gaze into the dark night. But the nod slowly stops as he stares into the fire, poking at some random coals to send a few sparks flitting upward like tiny fireflies dancing in the night before they wink out.
"Perhaps." The swashbuckler says cautiously thinking of all the folk back home. All the people he knew and cared about. His sister. His mother. Tabitha. Amelia with her constant prattling on about the gods and living up to the best within ourselves. Even Old Rook who he often shared a pint when time and funds allowed. He thinks of the boy they saved from the bandits just a couple of days ago. Remembers the emptiness growing in the lads eyes. The hardness that comes with losing everything. Hamish closes his eyes and gently shakes his head.
"I...I'm not sure I ever want to find that particular kind of peace." He says. "I think it would require me losing too much. Too much pain involved down that path. I'll just settle for the occasional sleepless night." He adds stretching and leaning back from the fire.
Hamish nods his head slowly as Jalros turns back to gaze into the dark night. But the nod slowly stops as he stares into the fire, poking at some random coals to send a few sparks flitting upward like tiny fireflies dancing in the night before they wink out.
"Perhaps." The swashbuckler says cautiously thinking of all the folk back home. All the people he knew and cared about. His sister. His mother. Tabitha. Amelia with her constant prattling on about the gods and living up to the best within ourselves. Even Old Rook who he often shared a pint when time and funds allowed. He thinks of the boy they saved from the bandits just a couple of days ago. Remembers the emptiness growing in the lads eyes. The hardness that comes with losing everything. Hamish closes his eyes and gently shakes his head.
"I...I'm not sure I ever want to find that particular kind of peace." He says. "I think it would require me losing too much. Too much pain involved down that path. I'll just settle for the occasional sleepless night." He adds stretching and leaning back from the fire.
Pondering the man's words a moment, Jalros looks back over to him, and says, "No, Hamish, you do not. And for your sake, I hope it avoids you all of your days." Returning his focus back into the night, "And I think settling for the 'occasional sleepless night' is wise indeed. It would truly be a boon." He tears another piece of jerky off with his teeth, chewing while he tends to his thoughts.
As the talk turns to loss and absence, Guthlag falls silent. He shivers. "I will take my leave, if you are not falling asleep." Standing, the half orc walks back to his bedroll. But he does not sleep, not yet. Instead, he lays in the dark and listens to the woods.
The conversation continues into the night, as some of the companions share bits and pieces of their views and perspectives on life.
The smell of the insectoid corpses around the camp is pungent, and the night is disturbingly punctuated by the occasional wing buzzing reflexively on one of the dead (or dying) stirges.
After some time, silence falls on the encampment. No scavengers seem to be drawn to the smell of carnage, or perhaps there aren’t any in these dark, silent woods…
Sistersdag, 25th of Mithrond. Drizzle.
Eventually, as some take to sleep, and others decide to simply lie awake, morning breaks, bringing with it a light but steady drizzle which threatens to put out the fire, and punish the adventurers in the worst possible way - with cold coffee. Resigned, you return to the road.
---
Mootsdag, 30th of Mithrond. Rain.
Even though at a certain point in time you may have started to doubt it, eventually two days after your run in with the stirges you reach the edge of the forest. As you move away from that disturbing place, gradually the normal sounds of nature seem to come alive again all around you, and you press onward.
By the 10th day of travel, you come to the intersection in The Tradeway which heads north, toward Fairhill. Again, and from afar, the most perceptive of you manage to scout the same red-eyed raven from before - coincidence or not, it is irrelevant for you as the path you are expected to follow remains the same regardless.
You follow the path and as night falls you see a farmhouse off in the fields, near the woods. Approaching the small dwelling, you notice that something is terribly wrong. The farmer — or what is left of him — lies in the front yard of the home, half eaten and missing one arm. His wife, and three small children lie in various contorted positions, the smallest boy completely disemboweled. Blood covers the hay in the yard, and a chicken pecks at the corpse of a young girl lying in front of the barn.
”That looks tasty,” says Guthlag, pointing at the chicken, and not the small child at which it pecks. ”Naomi, you have the crossbow.”
There was nothing Guthlag could do for the dead. Though he is young to battle, death is no stranger.
Hamish's face pales and he initially turns away from the grim horror scattered across the farmyard. "Tykee's Grace." The swordsman says quietly, clearly holding back the lump in his throat and his looks around for a horse blanket or other cloth large enough to cover the smallest bodies.
Seeing what the chicken was feeding on only moments prior, Hamish can't help but grimace at Guthlag's comment. He can only shake his head and plan to nibble from his own rations tonight.
"What foul creature could have done such a thing?" He wonders as he continues to search for a covering. "I mean I've seen a bit of death. Mostly bodies drowned in the river and washed ashore or caught on an unlucky oar. And of course a few battle deaths. But...but this...this is like the tavern tales about the old shrines or the horrors that lurk in Rappan Athuk." He rambles on a bit more. Ill at ease and rattled by such deaths brought upon a simple family clearly with little else but their land and each other.
Jalros quickly moves toward the chicken and scares it away in an effort to keep it from pecking at the dead girl. Looking down at the deceased child, Jalros's jaw clenches in anger as his eyes move from one deceased family member to another.
Returning to the others, "We need to learn what happened here. Somebody murdered this family and I'm going to find out who it was," he vows, sounding more determined and a little more passionate than typical for him.
”Perhaps it was my kinsfolk,” says Guthlag quietly. ”My father is long dead, but I have many cousins.” he watches Jalros scare away the chicken quietly, not saying anything. ”I do not think the Fancy Shield comes to these lands, but perhaps there is another, better one who does.” Perhaps they will think we did these things.
Gubble sags. His shoulders, his eyes, his entire being. Only holding the shaft of his bound flag is seemingly keeping him standing. "Guthlag, Naomi, could you check for tracks?" the halfling says sadly and softly "It looks like an animal, I've seen..." he doesn't continue, not wanting to remember.
His own bespectacled eyes try to find a clue as well.
Elgrin surveys the scene in horror, the sight of the kids' bodies affecting him the most. Seeing kids come to rough fates on the streets was part of life. But it shouldn't happen when they had a family to love and protect them.
Too late to protect them, Elgrin studies the scene looking for clues/tracks, hoping to prevent another family from suffering this fate.
With a cursory examination of the bodies you easily determine they were all killed with swords or axes, and that the murderers were enthusiastic in their work. The farmer’s corpse lies in front of his home. His wife’s body and two of their children lie just inside the door to the farmhouse. Their young
daughter’s body is inside the animal pen in front of the barn.
From the outside, the house and barn all seem to be in disarray, and several animals are running around - pigs, chickens, and a draft horse. In the trees a few hundred feet away are 3 cows.
Elgrin tries to look for traps but everything has been trampled by all the animals walking around, so he is unable to discern any particular tracks - his findings of course confirm there were others here, wearing soled shoes or boots, but not where they came from or left to.
Both Gubble and Hamish pick up the smell of food from inside the house.
Moving through the front yard of the farmhouse, Naomi wondered How many times her family had passed by here through the years. Not really hearing her companions as she looked from the bodies of the wife and little children, wondering if these were the kids she remembered waiving at them as their wagon went past. Moving past the bodies in the yard almost as in a dream, she heads towards the little girls body in the animal pen. Thinking to herself, this could be the little girl who waived at them.
As she knelt by the body she looked at the wounds, speaking aloud, as much to herself as to the others. "The dagger that killed this one had some sort of poison." As she stood, she shook herself, walking out of the pen. Addressing the others. "At last I assume it was a dagger, based on the wounds the others sustained."
breathing a sigh, she gestures towards the animals, "But what raiders would not have taken the only thing of value these people had?"
Sniffing the air, Hamish's face turns puzzled. "Food. I smell food. But..." He looks back at the bodies and then draws his rapier. "Can anyone tell how long ago this happened? Seems a might strange for the smell of a fresh meal to be drifting in the air, unless someone still lives."
He starts to creep toward the door of the farmhouse, but doesn't notice the badly rotted first step up. A loud crack echoes across the farmyard as his boot goes crashing through the weak wood.
Gubble's hope it was animals is quickly dashed, even by his own eyes. Which he finally pulled them away from the face of the little girl. He looks up at Naomi's and Hamish's questions. He looks at the wandering animals, his mind thinking most bandits would have taken them, for a meal if nothing else. "I agree, we should check the house, see if they looted anything at all." then he looks at the woods, "And we need a watch as we search... and bury. They might have set a scout to see if there was activity." he assumes if there was, the scout might have already slipped away while they took in the horror.
But they might be back.
Sighing, he looks at the others, giving whoever wants to stay outside an option to do so, worrying about what they will find inside.
"Naomi must be right. My kinsman would take the chicken." Guthlag himself watches the bird, which has moved to pick through the fresh dung of the wandering pig. He shivers, remembering the raven.
Guthlag also double checks that he cannot make out the direction the tracks left in.
Sniffing the air, Hamish's face turns puzzled. "Food. I smell food. But..." He looks back at the bodies and then draws his rapier. "Can anyone tell how long ago this happened? Seems a might strange for the smell of a fresh meal to be drifting in the air, unless someone still lives."
He starts to creep toward the door of the farmhouse, but doesn't notice the badly rotted first step up. A loud crack echoes across the farmyard as his boot goes crashing through the weak wood.
"Food?" Jalros follows after the swashbuckler, unconcerned with being quiet, especially after Hamish's foot buries itself within some rotted wood. Looking down at the man's foot before cutting his attention back to his face, Jalros quickly turns his focus to the door and makes his way to it, turning the handle and walking in, keeping a sharp eye out as he does.
'Smells food? So how long ago did this happen?' Raising an eyebrow as Hamish commented about smelling food, Naomi moved from the pen towards the house, Looking towards Gubble as he spoke. Nodding in agreement with Guthlag as he begins to search for tracks. 'Good hopefully Guthlag can find something.' As she neared the houses door, she realized Hamish and Jalros were headed that way as well. Pausing she turned to Gubble, "I can have Thistle guard the door while we check the house." Thistle hearing her name, stops trying to sneak up on one of the chickens and turns and looks at Naomi.
"خار بیا" As the wolf trotted her way, she uncocked the crossbow and returned the quarrel to her quiver. Kneeling beside her wolf she, she petted Thistle's head for a moment, earning a lick on her hand. Pointing to just outside the doorway she commanded "نگهبان خار." As she stood drawing her sickle, she watched Guthlag looking for tracks, pausing she hoped that Thistle recognized Guthlag and Cann as friends and would let them in the house if they wanted. Shrugging she turned to Jalros, Hamish and Gubble, "Whichever of you boys are going in the house, I'm going with ya."
Seeing Jalros open the door Naomi paused long enough to cast light on her sickle. Turning to the others, she looks at Gubble, "Shall we let Hamish follow Jalros and you stay between he and I?"
----------
The door to the house is wide open, and as he approaches, Hamish can see this is but a simple dwelling with seemingly little of value, apart from an old short sword hanging above the fireplace.
The fireplace is probably also where the smell is coming from - it shows signs of having been used recently, perhaps one or two days ago. Even though it is cold and extinguished now, there is still a large covered pot atop where the embers would have been. A quick look around shows that the table is also set - it would seem the family was getting ready to eat when disaster struck.
From the entrance both Hamish and Jalros see a second door out of the kitchen area, leading somewhere.
In the meantime outside, Guthlag is also unable to determine any further details about the tracks, and Naomi eventually approaches Hamish and Jalros, also taking a glimpse at the house kitchen.
While the interior of the house is inspected by the others Elgrin continues a wide circle around the outside of the house looking for the direction in which the villains went
Gubble nods to Naomi's suggestion, scratching Thsitle on the top of her head as he passes. His eyes look about, searching for anything will give them clues. "No ransacking, leaving a weapon even. This was just about slaughter?" the wizard wonders aloud.
Nodding in response to Gubble's question as his focus remains upon the house, "Yes, sir. And nothing more." Turning his attention to those that are with him, "I'm going to see where that door leads. More than likely to the back." Jalros proceeds to check it.
Hamish holds his peace. His jaw clenched shut and his knuckles white with anger as he gripped the hilt of his rapier. He follows Jalros through the door ready to back up the brawler if needed. He does his best to watch for any sign of trap or ambush, but he finds himself distracted as he tries to blink away visions of the slain girl.