Hamish looks at the hole he'd been digging and sighs. "Right. Fire. That does make more sense." He says groaning as his battered body starts to remind him that he did not escape the latest brawl without injury. Still, he does his best to help gather wood...and the bodies, so that the poor folk's souls can finally rest easy.
Elgrin helps gather firewood. Nodding to Hamish Wouldn't feel right burying these poor folks. I'd be waiting all night for them to rise again and dig their way out from the grave. Fire will help cleanse them and make them ready for the afterlife
Gubble lowers his head, sad about the fate these people had to go through, but resolute in making sure it didn't happen to anyone else, if he could do anything to prevent it, he would. He isn't particularly religious, so he keeps his words in his head.
As she looked toward her companions and their wounds, she realized the prisoner was still unconscious, which was probably good. Walking back to the wagon with the wood she collected from the farmer's wood pile, she asks. "Should we disarm the archer and tie him up?"
"Yes." Jalros pulls out his rope and does exactly that. He then removes any weapons the criminal possesses.
As the wood and bodies of the family are being piled carefully in the wagon, Naomi approaches Thistle and takes her flint and steel out of the pack. Nearing Jalros, she asks him, "If we're sleeping in the house, do we want to keep the prisoner tied up with us, or tied in the barn?"
Once he finishes restraining the man, Jalros rises. "We will keep him with us. We do not need him alone when he wakes, with no one watching him. And we will use the house as quarters for the night. Once I've gotten the layout of the house, we can allocate accordingly of who sleeps where." He explains plainly.
When the funeral pyre is ready Naomi holds up the flint and steel, looking at the others, her eyes landing on the religious Egrin. "Does anyone want to speak any words?"
Looking intently at the dead family, Jalros jaw clenches before looking over at Naomi and simply responding with, "No," before turning and heading toward the house, making his way inside. Once there, he walks throughout, drawing himself a mental blueprint.
When the funeral pyre is ready Naomi holds up the flint and steel, looking at the others, her eyes landing on the religious Egrin. "Does anyone want to speak any words?"
Yes...I will.
Elgrin offers his torch for Naomi to light. And then standing before the pyre he waits for the group to gather around (except for Jalros) before offering up a prayer to send this unfortunate family into the afterlife.
O Mother and Father of Justice and Virtue, we commend unto you this family whose lives were cut tragically short. May the love they had for each other burn eternally. We commit their bodies to be consumed by purifying fire so that their souls may be free to join you in the afterlife and bask in your Virtue and Blessings. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Amen and as he finishes with the prayer he lights the pyre and watches silently as the smoke takes their souls to heaven
Gubble pats the young man on his arm, giving him a nod of respect at his words. Listening to Jalros, he sighes. The house makes the most sense, though he can't help but feel like sleeping in their beds is a betrayal of sorts. "Standard watches?" he asks, going to where his pack was dropped and brining it into the house.
After some time, Guthlag recovers his senses and helps the others light the pyre. "I agree, Jalros, we should keep this one close." Guthlag remembers the archer's words just before Cann charged him. He waits quietly while Elgrin prays. "How many of us can fit in their bed?" He wonders tactlessly. He himself has no qualms about sleeping in a dead family's bed, though he has heard rumors that sleeping on soft surfaces can sap one's strength.
Gubble sets up his bedroll on the floor.
Pausing for a moment, she examines the prisoner, wondering if anyone checked him for weapons. Realizing the man had been shooting at them, she glances around for the archers bow.
Naomi does not see the bow nearby, but she realizes it probably dropped closer to where the man fell in combat - she can easily retrieve it (it is a shortbow).
Checking the unconscious man, she realizes also he seems to be very weak, after a lot of blood loss from Cann's bites - his breathing is shallow.
Not liking the idea of sleeping in one of the beds, she adds, "I'll sleep in the front room by the door. That way Thistle can help me keep a watch even while I sleep."
The house door opens out.
... she started 'shoeing' the chickens and pigs towards the barn, rolling her eyes as Thistle, thinking it was a new game, chased one of the pigs into a thicket.
"We can eat the animals ourselves, and give the family the gold you found on the archer," Guthlag says to Naomi. "It seems we must hasten to the tower, else we risk being locked out forever. Then more may die." Cann stalks behind Thistle, watching her with the eye of a hunter. "I don't think we shall see Fairhill soon."
Hmmmmm, the road would first take you past Fairhill yes, then toward the tower.
Should be about half a day from here - perhaps a tad more, but not much.
After seeing Snowbell snug in the barn with the other animals, Hamish tosses his gear on a free bed in the house and settles in for a welcome rest. The large puncture in his leg from the arrow was causing him some serious discomfort now that the rush from the battle and taking care of the bodies was wearing off.
When the question about the animals comes up, Hamish goes pale and shakes his head at potentially butchering everything.
"That would be a tremendous waste of good stock." He says. "There's probably another farm not too far up the road. I bet they'd welcome the animals and see 'em cared for. And when it is time for butchering they'll be able to get full use rather than the little we'll be able to cook up and eat tonight."
"Sure it might delay us an extra hour or two, but honestly, they've already got a full night's head start. And it seems they're already able to outrun us." He says thinking of how long the bodies had already been dead by the time they arrived. "If this necromancer's been tracking us all along, I've little doubt he'll reach this tower before us. Might as well see a few folk right and maybe make a friend or two along the way."
He settles back on the bed wincing as he lifts his leg into place before leaning back to drink a glass of the homebrew ale the farmer kept stored amongest in the larder. "Not bad." Hamish says smacking his lips slightly. "For heather beer that is."
From the floor where Gubble was settling into his bed roll, his voice says "The tower won't give up its secrets simply by opening its front door. Which is why this wizard wanted to create a band, each part providing a strength the other didn't, each able to depend on the others, creating a stronger whole to face the unknown." none of the whistfulness normally in Gubble's voice when he talks about Bands remains. This evening at least "Vortigern, I'd assume, went with mercanaries. Assuming by knowing no one in their right mind would send more than a moment with him without being paid or forced into it."
"I am convinced," Guthlag says. He helps the others herd the animals into the barn, then makes sure they have the food and water they will need for the night. When the work is done, he settles with the others, though he does not drink the farmer's ale. "They may even clear out whatever defenses there are inside the tower," he muses.
When Naomi asks about the watch, Hamish surveys the windows, or lack thereof, in the tiny farmhouse. He didn't relish the thought of standing out in the chill late autumn air, but duty demanded.
"Aye." He says reluctantly. "This place was built for keeping warmth in, not as a lookout post. Best we set up on opposite sides or corners in order to cover each others blind areas. No sense watchin' if we give 'em a way to sneak right up on us." He says digging out his heavy oil cloak just in case it decides to rain some more.
Returning to the others, he resorts to simply listening in on the conversations at hand.
After eating her jerky and drinking a little water, she laid out her bedroll near the door so when her watch was over she could get to sleep quickly. Asking Hamish, "Hamish, do you think both of us should be outside for the watch?"
When Naomi asks about the watch, Hamish surveys the windows, or lack thereof, in the tiny farmhouse. He didn't relish the thought of standing out in the chill late autumn air, but duty demanded.
"Aye." He says reluctantly. "This place was built for keeping warmth in, not as a lookout post. Best we set up on opposite sides or corners in order to cover each other's blind areas. No sense watchin' if we give 'em a way to sneak right up on us." He says digging out his heavy oil cloak just in case it decides to rain some more.
Looking curiously at them both, "Why would you do that?" he plainly asks. "They cannot sneak up on us if they have to go through a door or a window. They can sneak up on you if you are outside, or they can simply attack you from range. The house is beneficial for its walls and its shelter." Not understanding the thought process, and moving on from it, "I'll be near the back door."
The night is uneventful, and your sleep is not perturbed by anything apart from your own thoughts and memories of the past day.
Those on watch do hear the occasional noise far away in the distance - a wolf howl, or some unnamed screech. And every rustle of leaves or branches in the wind put your senses on alert. Yet there seems to be no danger, and you are able to rest.
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Manesdag, 1st of Blótmond
The morning is again grey and humid - the dampness does not help with the complete incineration of the corpses... In the morning they are still smoking, and it feels like the smell will take some time to go away. Which lends an even more macabre image to the whole situation.
While gathering his gear in the morning, Hamish finds a hidden compartment in the bed he slept in - inside there is a hand carved wooden box with leaf motifs, containing 22 silver and 45 copper pieces.
Surprised at the find, Hamish opens the box to discover the small family savings. After counting everything, he divides it up into equal shares leaving a few silver left over, and then drops everything back into the box.
"I found a bit of coin hidden under the bed. Divided among us it comes to 3 silver and 7 copper each with a bit left over." He shakes his head. "Not much to show for a lifetime of back breaking work." He says. Looking at the carved box. "The box could probably fetch more at the market back home." Thinking of some of the wealthy noble ladies his sister worked for and what they might pay for such a piece of handcrafted work.
He then heads out to the barn to ready Snowbell and the other animals.
Gubble nods as Hamish puts the money back in the chest, nodding again as Naomi lays out the details of giving the money to their kin. "Plenty of others in need if we can't find their family." he says softly, as he pushes up his glasses (perpetually slipping down his nose they are) and hefts his pack. "I doubt Vortigern will attack us again, but he might have others do so, or leave other... traps." the last word said as heavy as a stone in a deep lake.
"Aye, most goes to kin, if we can find them, else I'd suggest the local priest might know where it'd do the most good." He pauses, scratches at his side suddenly hoping that mites weren't infesting the farmer's bed. "Less the cost of a night at Fairhill's inn with a hot bath and decent meal." Hamish says.
The arrow wound in his leg still bothering him, it takes longer to get the mule's load set and balanced and to harness up the milk cow and other large farm stock, but eventually he's got all ready to travel.
'A small price to pay" Gubble swys about hauling water. He helps gets everything ready, then looks down the long road. "Let's hurry as much as we can." he wants to get where they are going as fast as they can.
Guthlag does not weigh in on the matter of coin. He knows only that the greed of his tribe members often led to their downfall. In the morning, he prepares healing magic. He heals himself and Cann first.
Then he heals the captured archer.
Barely.
Once the man has regained consciousness, Guthlag has questions.
The man does not regain consciousness, but his breathing seems steadier.
Packing up her gear, she remembered they had a prisoner. Calling back to their bouncer "Jalros, how's the prisoner?"
"Breathing but still unconscious."
Elgrin takes a look at the prisoner and debates the virtue of asking for his God's favor in healing this unworthy murderer. Ultimately he decides not to ponder (not his strong suit) on this too much and simply Lays his hands on the unconscious man and prays
Lord and Lady, if you see value in healing this man so that we may gain insight into our foes...Let thy will be done
Naomi is fairly sure Fairhill has at least a standing guard, and a corresponding Captain.
As Elgrin heals the unworthy man, his eyes weakly flutter open. He looks at the companions around him, but does not say a word.
"Many thanks Naomi." Hamish says gingerly putting a bit more weight on his wounded leg after she works her magic. Despite her efforts, the wound still aches and complains as he walks. "Blasted necromancers." He complains. A bit of worry crossing his features and he leans against Snowbell for a moment. "I hope the villain didn't coat some foul poison on the arrow or curse it with a sickness. Such things aren't unheard of with those who traffic with the undying."
Gubble nods in understanding at the logic of Naomi's suggestion, but then shakes his head "The man was party to the death of children. I would not like to seem him go free, no matter what he might tell us. But a band is not about one voice, but instead is voices both discussing and collective." Gubble answers for himself, but no others.
Hamish nods along with Gubble as the debate turns to the life or death of the bandit. Suggesting they take the conversation well away from even the possibility of the man overhearing, Hamish then states his stance.
"The man aided and abetted necromancy." He states flatly. "He killed innocents, including children. All hangin' offenses in my book, and by the laws of the City for that matter."
"I am all for letting the man think he has hope. For without it, I doubt he will tell us anything. But there is nothing he could offer, that would make up for his crimes. Were it my choice alone, the scum wouldn't see the outside of the barn ever again."
The man's companions abandoned him. Maybe he'd like to get back at them by telling us about them. Regardless of what he says, he needs to face justice. Since Fairhill is an option we can take him there to pay for his crimes.
Listening to the opinions of the others, Jalros simply responds with, "Agreed."
"What do we need a saddle for? The man has legs, I saw them work when he was running from me." Guthlag has not noticed a saddle, but he hasn't looked for one either.
Before they heal the prisoner, he communicates his list of questions to the others. "I am happy to ask."
Go ahead and ask away. Doubt we'll be able to trust what he says but it's worth a shot
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Naomi finds an old saddle in the barn - it is not in the best of conditions, but should be serviceable.
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"Hey! Hey! Pretty lady!" - your captive calls out to Naomi - "Don't know what you have been discussing over there but... Can we make some agreement here? I had nothing to do with this carnage" - he added - "I tell you what I know, and you let me go?"
Gubble poked his head around Naomi, whom he had been following for curiosity nothing more. "Had nothing to do, seems to stretch credibility. You were firing arrows at us." he cocked his head to the side. "Starting with lies does not give us a comfortable feeling that whatever else you tell us wouldn't also be lies."
He looks up to Naomi. "Do you agree, pretty lady?"