"Ok" - Cordell nods at Naomi's reasoning, removing the scabbard from the same one whom he got the sword from, and adjusting it around his waist - "We'll talk later..."
"No. You can't. Now do as Naomi says and put the sword down before you kill yourself, and help these people in any manner necessary. I won't tell you again," he says plainly to the wanna-be warrior, staring at him until he complies.
The man stares back at Jalros, but is unable to face the brawler's intensity - he finishes putting the sword in his scabbard, walking away with his eyes on the ground, and making himself busy assisting with the graves and recovering the cart. In fact, mostly everyone gives a wide berth at Jalros after this.
"Why would you say such a thing Cordell...?" - the older woman scolded him after an understanding nod to Naomi - "You know we can use your help getting to Bard's Gate..."
"I am tired of this. It is not over. I will fight back!" - he replied in hushed tones, moving away.
The woman comes back to Naomi and the others - "I am sorry Miss. He is stubborn and headstrong. He means well, but hasn't been the same since he lost his pa" - she added - "Seems like he is angry all the time..."
----------
'Later is better than now.' Noami nods to the man as he walks off. Catching the eye of the elderly lady Naomi nods to her as well before she scolds Cordell, 'I wonder if she's in charge or just wise enough to speak the truth.' Seeing the big bruiser walking up toward Cordell, Naomi furrows her brow. 'Not quite how I'd have handled it, but Jalros is right.' As the little man practically runs from Jalros, Naomi walks towards Jalros, speaking softly, "Speaking of putting the sword down, should we see if these bandits had any usable gear? We seem to be short on ranged weapons. I know how to use a crossbow."
Realizing the elderly woman was moving toward her, Naomi moved away from Jalros. Looking towards Thistle, "Come girl," She moved in the general direction of the woman. 'I wonder if he is her son.' She smiles at the elderly woman, responding; "It's ok, this is a very stressful situation. My name is Naomi." Raising an eyebrow, "Lost his father? Is that why your headed to 'Bard's Gate'?"
As they talk, Naomi gestures for the woman to follow her. She will begin moving to where the bandits fell or were dragged to search the bodies for anything of value.
'Later is better than now.' Noami nods to the man as he walks off. Catching the eye of the elderly lady Naomi nods to her as well before she scolds Cordell, 'I wonder if she's in charge or just wise enough to speak the truth.' Seeing the big bruiser walking up toward Cordell, Naomi furrows her brow. 'Not quite how I'd have handled it, but Jalros is right.' As the little man practically runs from Jalros, Naomi walks towards Jalros, speaking softly, "Speaking of putting the sword down, should we see if these bandits had any usable gear? We seem to be short on ranged weapons. I know how to use a crossbow."
Looking around a moment, "Yes. We might as well gather what we can and use it to our advantage. They've no longer any use for them. I will see to it." Jalros then takes his leave and does exactly that.
Realizing the elderly woman was moving toward her, Naomi moved away from Jalros. Looking towards Thistle, "Come girl," She moved in the general direction of the woman. 'I wonder if he is her son.' She smiles at the elderly woman, responding; "It's ok, this is a very stressful situation. My name is Naomi." Raising an eyebrow, "Lost his father? Is that why your headed to 'Bard's Gate'?"
”Well met to ye Naomi - I am Aiala” - the woman replies, leaning heavily on her quarterstaff - ”We are on the way to Bard’s Gate to try and sell some of our wares” - she explained - ”Grain and fabrics”
”Cordell lost his father two years back. To gnolls who happened upon his parent’s farm… A sad affair…” - she shakes her head.
While the others search the bodies, Guthlag finally notices that Cann has been stuck with an arrow. As soon as he begins to remove it, she yelps in pain, and continues whimpering for some time until the bleeding stops. Guthlag's own wound is thankfully not too deep, and is already beginning to dry. After setting up for camp, he moves to speak with Cordell, who still seems dejected.
"I myself lost my father, though in trueness I was too young to know him." The druid sits down beside the young man. He is half a child himself, but the wells of his eyes are deep with sadness. "Like you, I want to learn how to protect myself. But strength won't come easily. It takes time." Guthlag rolls his shoulders stiffly as Cann approaches. She laps patiently at the fresh blood around his wound, her tongue warm and rough.
Gubble's worn out. "Someone should write a paper on how digging centers the mind, specifically toward the goal of never having to do it again." he says with weary good nature.
As the gear is gathered he asks "A crow?" he feels it, flips it over, and thinks. "Common enough to use them for an emblem, for mercenaries or Bands, but bandits are not known to be together long enough or to live long enough to feel the need for insignias. Were they sewn on or just hidden in a pack?"
Nodding in agreement with Gubble's assessment about physical labor, Hamish mops sweat from his brow and drops down against a well placed log. Seeing the crow insignia, he tries to recall any simliar eblems used by other enemies of Bard's Gate or peace in general, but nothing comes to his tired mind. As he ponders he sorts through the crossnoe bolts pulling a few to add to his supplies.
Gubble's worn out. "Someone should write a paper on how digging centers the mind, specifically toward the goal of never having to do it again." he says with weary good nature.
Practicing swordsmanship can be just as tiring but a LOT more fun that's for sure. This is something I DON'T want to get good at.
As the gear is gathered he asks "A crow?" he feels it, flips it over, and thinks. "Common enough to use them for an emblem, for mercenaries or Bands, but bandits are not known to be together long enough or to live long enough to feel the need for insignias. Were they sewn on or just hidden in a pack?"
I dunno maybe a successful band might be together long enough to want some type of emblem. Doesn't seem like a smart thing to do in case the authorities started to take notice. I'd think it'd be smarter to be a nameless band. But who knows what scum like this think?
”Well met to ye Naomi - I am Aiala” - the woman replies, leaning heavily on her quarterstaff - ”We are on the way to Bard’s Gate to try and sell some of our wares” - she explained - ”Grain and fabrics”
'Sell wares?' Raising an eyebrow, Naomi asks, "Selling wares? Where are you all from?" Then she gestures towards the road, "And you all have done this before?"
"I myself lost my father, though in trueness I was too young to know him." The druid sits down beside the young man. He is half a child himself, but the wells of his eyes are deep with sadness. "Like you, I want to learn how to protect myself. But strength won't come easily. It takes time." Guthlag rolls his shoulders stiffly as Cann approaches. She laps patiently at the fresh blood around his wound, her tongue warm and rough.
"How do you know about my... Oh, it was Aiala wasn't it?" - the man shot back a look at the older woman, seemingly about to say something, but then stopping short, and turning to Guthlag instead - "All I have is time, and nothing has ever come easily to me" - he shrugged - "I am sick and tired of being a victim"
As the gear is gathered he asks "A crow?" he feels it, flips it over, and thinks. "Common enough to use them for an emblem, for mercenaries or Bands, but bandits are not known to be together long enough or to live long enough to feel the need for insignias. Were they sewn on or just hidden in a pack?"
'Sell wares?' Raising an eyebrow, Naomi asks, "Selling wares? Where are you all from?" Then she gestures towards the road, "And you all have done this before?"
"Most of us are from around here - random scattered small farms dotted around The Tradeway" - she shrugged - "We travel together to Bard's Gate for safety... But things have taken a turn for the worse in recent years" - she added, looking at the dead and the wounded - "Lone farms are now in danger more than ever... But what are we supposed to do, our stock and plots are all we have - should we abandon that, and go live the life of a servant in Bard's Gate..?" - it is almost as if she is talking to herself - "Maybe we should..."
Hmaish's face grows darker as the old woman tells her tale. Poking the crackling flames of the campfire with his stick, he leans back and stretches out his bandaged leg.
"An insignia. Running folk off their land or stealing their goods. Organized attacks against well guarded caravans. Sounds like we might have a new petty bandit lord trying to set up shop." He ponders. "Tell me Aiala, have there been giant spider attacks or infestations near or on the farms? Perhaps, accompanied by sorcery, or at the least, rumors of evil magics?"
"Have the farms been able to organize any kind of defense? Is there someone leading an effort we could speak to in order to learn more and see if there was a way to help?"
'To give up ones home?' Listening to Aiala, Naomi pauses and thinks of her own family and the home they'd made together. Shaking her head, "No, I don't think you should abandon your homes. Maybe there is some other way to get your goods shipped to the City."
Seeing Hamish take some of the quarrels, Naomi pointed to one of the crossbows, "Can I have a crossbow and ten quarrels?" As she lifted the crossbow, testing the string and lever, she moved to where they had set up camp. Realizing that Thistle had started to wander around sniffing she called to the wolf, "خار بیا"
Dropping her walking stick, the crossbow, and quiver by the spot she had selected, she took her Rucksack off of Thistles pack saddle, then took the saddle off of the wolf as well. Placing the gear near the fire where she had selected, she sorted out some of the dried meat for Thistle to eat. As Thistle lay down and started to chew on the meat, she Helping gather wood for the fire, asking, "Same watch as last night?"
"Hmm... a wicked dark mage wanting to clear out all the occupants to pave the way for a devastating ritual... or bleeding the land dry to fund an army of the spidery dead? Why Ravens then?" Gubble muses to himself. "It would make for an interesting first chapter for an aspiring band at the cusp of legends, as well as helping those that are in the most need."
The wizard sets up his bedroll and semi tent, after agreeing with Naomi's suggestion of watch order.
Maybe the tower can wait Mr. Gubble. Seems these people could really use some help. Farmings tough enough without having to worry about bandits killing ya on your way to sell your crop
Dropping her walking stick, the crossbow, and quiver by the spot she had selected, she took her Rucksack off of Thistles pack saddle, then took the saddle off of the wolf as well. Placing the gear near the fire where she had selected, she sorted out some of the dried meat for Thistle to eat. As Thistle lay down and started to chew on the meat, she Helping gather wood for the fire, asking, "Same watch as last night?"
Listening in upon the conversation, Jalros turns to Naomi and nods, simply responding with, "Yes."
"How do you know about my... Oh, it was Aiala wasn't it?" - the man shot back a look at the older woman, seemingly about to say something, but then stopping short, and turning to Guthlag instead - "All I have is time, and nothing has ever come easily to me" - he shrugged - "I am sick and tired of being a victim"
"I will be seeing you in the future, then, when you are strong." Guthlag points in the direction of Bard's Gate. "Will you live out here still, or stay in the city?"
--------
Maybe the tower can wait Mr. Gubble. Seems these people could really use some help. Farmings tough enough without having to worry about bandits killing ya on your way to sell your crop
"Could we few stand against an organized band?" Guthlag's doubt was plain on his face. "We should go to Fairhill. This tower may turn into something worse if it's left for anyone to take."
"I would suggest continuing toward our planned destination, which seems to tread already down the dark path these last two groups came from. If fate wishes for us to rest our mettle against the foul forces that plague these fine folk, then fate will do so." Gubble carefully takes off his glasses and folds them neatly in their case beside him. "And if not, we will be returning this way, far wiser and hopefully much stronger once we are done with the tower." he smiles at the fuzzy blobs that were once his compantions.
"Tell me Aiala, have there been giant spider attacks or infestations near or on the farms? Perhaps, accompanied by sorcery, or at the least, rumors of evil magics?"
"Spiders you say...?" - she ponders for a few seconds - "Not that I know of dearie. I have heard nothing about spider attacks, but then everyone knows not to get too close to the forest..."
"Have the farms been able to organize any kind of defense? Is there someone leading an effort we could speak to in order to learn more and see if there was a way to help?"
"No real defense no. Each is responsible for defending their own farms and crops, and there is no point in turning to the patrols - they are only interested in making sure those who pay them remain rich" - she grumbles - "So they only patrol the trade routes, either the road, or the river"
'To give up ones home?' Listening to Aiala, Naomi pauses and thinks of her own family and the home they'd made together. Shaking her head, "No, I don't think you should abandon your homes. Maybe there is some other way to get your goods shipped to the City."
"Mayhaps you are right... But between the hard labor, the cost to hire guards, and the dangers of the trip... I am not so sure" - she shakes her head.
"I will be seeing you in the future, then, when you are strong." Guthlag points in the direction of Bard's Gate. "Will you live out here still, or stay in the city?"
"There is nothing for me in the city. I will end up dead in a gutter, or etching a miserable life as a servant perhaps" - Cordell grunted - "And if I continue on the life I have now...Well..." - his eyes rest on the graves of those recently buried.
"If your group will not take me, I will need to find another who does" - he adds, just before getting up and heading to his bedroll.
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After the agitated and dramatic nightfall, the night goes by uneventful.
The caravan members are still jumpy though, and wake up frequently - in the morning they look positively exhausted. Still they begin preparations to depart, and Aiala brings you all fresh coffee.
After a while Cordell comes to you also - "Good morning" - his green eyes shift uncomfortably to Jalros, and then shy away - "I want to ask again - will you take me with you?" - he pauses for a split second, then continues before you can even reply - "I am good with a sling, and with traps! I can learn to use the sword. I am strong! My dad used to tell me I was built like an ox! - then stares at all of you expectantly.
Continuing to favor his wounded leg, Hamish limps over to store the extra bolts in his gear.
"Whereabouts is your farm Aiala?" He asks the woman. "And how many others are there in the area?"
While the tower was certainly a worthy goal, Hamish had some serious misgivings about leaving good folk such as this on their own after they've already suffered so much.
Gubble finishes his morning reading and gives Aiala a beaming smile of dawn's delight at the coffee. To Cordell, he says "We have responsibilities, a contract made to each other that involves each one of us protecting the other. Can you honestly say at this moment, young man, that you can protect someone like Jalros, as equally as he can protect you?" he is honest, though his voice is not unkind. "Train, and protect those that need you Now, and we will be back through in a passing season. If you wish to join us then, show us your qualities then. Trust in how you handle your responsibilities is one of the greatest. Thought the sword and sling parts will definitely have their place." he looks to the others, knowing that while he might have formed the group, he is just one part of the whole now. "Or so is my vote." he looks for nods of agreement or shakes of no, or with Words, of course, cause words are golden hummingbirds... hmm, maybe, hummingbirds though sounds too forced. Needs work. his mind bounces around the phrase.
the youngest of the group, Elgrin shakes his head in agreement with Mr. Gubble. He feels for the kid. But the open road is no place for a novice to begin training to become a warrior.
"We will not be doing any trapping on the road," Guthlag tells the young man, folding his arms. "Though you are well fleshed, the others need you more." He gestures to the remainder of the caravan. "Would you leave them behind?"
Trusting her companions at guard and her trusty friend Thistle, Naomi sleeps as well as one who is used to a soft bed can on the hard ground. Waking she bends and twists trying to crack her back, then takes care of her morning ablutions before she accepts a cup of coffee Aiala.
Hearing Cordell start up again with asking about traveling with them to learn to fight. As she packs her gear, she listens to the conversation looking from the angry young man to Jalros. As Gubble tries to sooth the young man, Naomi loads Thistles pack saddle onto the wolf and then ties her rucksack to it. Moving closer to Cordell she chimes in. "Cordell, we understand, really, we do. But Gubble and Guthlag are right. The task we've undertaken is dangerous, it's not the time or place to learn. But there are places in 'Bard's Gate' where you can learn"
She looks towards Elgrin and Hamish, hoping one of them could tell the young man about someone who could help train him.
Continuing to favor his wounded leg, Hamish limps over to store the extra bolts in his gear.
"Whereabouts is your farm Aiala?" He asks the woman. "And how many others are there in the area?"
"A few miles down the Tradeway, and then following a dirt road north" - she explains - "There are a couple of us... The Tassles, the Rembons, Huld and his wife and children... Samael, Hilda of course, and old Jeffers. Why do you ask?"
At Gubble's words, again Cordell lowers his eyes to the ground - "No I cannot protect him as he could protect me... I wanted to..."
"We will not be doing any trapping on the road," Guthlag tells the young man, folding his arms. "Though you are well fleshed, the others need you more." He gestures to the remainder of the caravan. "Would you leave them behind?"
"Well, like your companion just said, I am worthless anyway - they do not need me..." - his eyes remain on the ground.
"Cordell, we understand, really, we do. But Gubble and Guthlag are right. The task we've undertaken is dangerous, it's not the time or place to learn. But there are places in 'Bard's Gate' where you can learn"
"I understand..." - he turns around and goes to join the rest of the caravan members.
"Come then Cordell" - says Aiala - "Help me load this poor fella onto one of the horses, or he won't live through the trip" - she adds, pointing to the wounded guard - "Leave them adventurers be - your place is with us" - the woman finishes, patting him on the back.
Cordell assists her as he can, seemingly resigned.
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"A few miles down the Tradeway, and then following a dirt road north" - she explains - "There are a couple of us... The Tassles, the Rembons, Huld and his wife and children... Samael, Hilda of course, and old Jeffers. Why do you ask?"Continuing to favor his wounded leg, Hamish limps over to store the extra bolts in his gear.
"Whereabouts is your farm Aiala?" He asks the woman. "And how many others are there in the area?"
Hamish nods at the woman's directions and notes the names. But as the every effort is made to dissuade the boy from coming along, he senses the lack of interest from his companions in truly helping these folk. He sighs at the woman's question and his shoulders slump.
"It seems other matters will likely press us onward, but if all goes well, I may be back this way before the season is out. If so, I will offer what little aide I can." He says quietly. He then passes her his share of the bandit's coins. "Take it. It isn't much, but it probably belongs to your folk anyway. I've little else to offer, except when you reach Bard's Gate, seek out the Orphans of War Society and my sister Maggie. The society isn't much beyond noble ladies chattering like hens in a noble coop, but Mag's does good work with what little funds she can squeeze out of the tea and crumpet crowd."
He then walks over and helps Cordell lift the wounded man into place. "If you're really interested in learning how to fight, you look up Sergent Rook of the Rivergaurd. He's retired now. But you'll find him hanging around one o'the pubs down along the docks. He's an Arkanji like me and knows more about fightin' than the whole bloody Lyregaurd combined." He gives the boy a knowing smile. "And I ain't talkin' bout regulated fisticuffs fighting or military precision drills. He's the meanest, trickiest bas$%#@d that ever floated the river. Tell him that layabout Hamish Macrae, bets him a good gold harp that he couldn't teach a fish to piss better yet turn you into fighter worth carrying a riverman's blade."
He gives the lad a wink and pat on the back before seeing to Snowbell and heading out with the others.
Watching as Cordell sulks back to Aiala, Naomi finishes getting Thistles pack ready. Seeing Hamish approaches the angry young man, she listens as the swashbuckler tells him who to talk to in 'Bard's Gate.'
As the two groups get ready to go their own way, Naomi walks over to Hamish nodding towards Cordell. "That was well done."
Gesturing "Let's get underway." As she begins to walk, she shifts the new crossbow on her shoulder, knowing that if she wanted to move quickly she'd need to drop it. Looking down, she realized that Thistle was still nosing around the camp, calling loudly, Watching as the wolf trotted up, tongue lulling, giving a happy woof as they proceeded.
Ardsdag, 21st of Mithrond. Overcast.
Aiala listens to Hamish with attention - "I am sure we will manage one way or another" - she accepts the money - "But this will help, so thank you again to all of you - we will look for your sister Maggie if need be"
After the pep talk from Hamish, Cordell's anger and frustration seem to deflate a bit, the man almost smiling at the swashbuckler's description of the army veteran - "Sergeant Rook. I will look for him, and say I am coming from your part. Thank you" - he nodded, then joined the others.
The day on the road goes on by without further incidents, or even many encounters along the Tradeway, apart from a few sparse, well guarded merchant caravans here or there.
--------------------
Djinsdag, 22nd of Mithrond. Rainy.
About halfway through another drizzle drenched day, you begin to see the outline of what must be the Stirge Forest in the distance - perhaps it is because the weather is doing nothing for your spirits, and even Snowbell plods along with her head down, or due to the dark clouds which cover the blue sky, but from this distance the forest looks more black and grey than green...
About an hour later, you can see an approaching large group - they seem to be making no efforts to pass unseen, and walk right down the middle of the road apparently.
As they notice you, their pace increases somewhat, until they reach you. The lead rider wears well tended finery over a chainmail, and sports both a large steel shield at his side, and a longsword in its scabbard. He is flanked by two other riders not as well dressed, but equally well armored and carrying lances. The remaining of the group seems to be a form of infantry, garbed in leather armor and carrying longspears.
"Stand and be identified!" - the lead rider raises one hand and shouts in a strong voice without removing his helm - "Where do you hail from, what are your names, and what is your destination travelers?"
After the agitated and dramatic nightfall, the night goes by uneventful.
The caravan members are still jumpy though, and wake up frequently - in the morning they look positively exhausted. Still they begin preparations to depart, and Aiala brings you all fresh coffee.
After a while Cordell comes to you also - "Good morning" - his green eyes shift uncomfortably to Jalros, and then shy away - "I want to ask again - will you take me with you?" - he pauses for a split second, then continues before you can even reply - "I am good with a sling, and with traps! I can learn to use the sword. I am strong! My dad used to tell me I was built like an ox! - then stares at all of you expectantly.
As Jalros works to gather things together, he listens in as the others reply. Stopping a moment, he simply looks at the boy for a long moment stoically before eventually returning to the task at hand while giving no response as Cordell is keenly aware of Jalros's stance.
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Narrowing his eyes at the approaching newcomers, "Looks like soldiers, sir." When they arrive and start demanding things, "Sounds like them too, sir," he deadpans.
Dunno about soldiers but looks like about 10 of them. So yeah, hopefully soldiers and not bandits
"Sadly one doesn't know if that is a good thing or bad, I seem an emblem on one of their shields." Gubble describes it in hopes someone else might know what it is.
Ardsdag, 21st of Mithrond. Overcast
Seeing a young deer through a grove of birch trees, Naomi brings the new crossbow to her shoulder, squeezing the lever. As the quarrel flies true, through ribcage and lung, the buck drops. Naomi smiles. "We'll eat well tonight!"
Djinsdag, 22nd of Mithrond. Rainy.
'Stand and be identified? hearing the fellow with the fancy insignia on his shield boss them around, Naomi nods her head in agreement with Gubble. "Bossy isn't he."
Stepping forward, Naomi lifts her hand and takes off the damp wide brimmed grey felt hat so her face was visible. "I'm Naomi Chadwick, late of Bard's Gate. These are my friends, we travel to Fairhill. I have family there."
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"Come on Snowbell!" Hamish pleads as he tugs once again on the mule's reins. The action gets him absolutely nothing except further mud on his boots as he sinks a smidgen deeper into the soaked dirt at the edge of the narrow stream babbling it's way across the road. She doesn't much like crossing water... The boy said back at the stable.
Shouldn't be much trouble, he said. Hamish snorts in frustration, eyes glaring at the mule who simply stares at the trickling stream, ears flopped back as her tale swishes at the occasional buzzing fly.
The swordsman stomps out into the center of the stream, a distance of no more than two paces and stamps around in the shallow water, splashing it about. "See! Not deep. Not a threat at all. Barely reaches above your ankle."
*SNORT*
Is the mule's steadfast reply accompanied by a shaking of her long head and a single step backward. The move is quick enough and in the exact opposite of the hoped for direction that Hamish is caught completely off balance. Arms suddenly flapping like a duck on a hot plate, the ex-Riverguard falls into the muddy stream with a wet, sloppy *splat*.
It isn't until he pulls his mud covered, dripping form out of the murky water that the voice behind him registers.
"...your destination travelers?"
Cursing under his breath he sees the mounted men and the squad behind, although the mud dripping in his eyes prevents him from seeing...anything clearly at the moment.
"Heehawheehawheehaw!" Is Snowbell's clever contribution.
The man raises an eyebrow at Hamish and Snowbell, then turns to Naomi - "You ALL have family there?" - he asks flatly.
Cann watches eagerly as the deer Naomi has shot falls to the ground. Then she bolts towards it, stopping only when her teeth are around its neck. Guthlag is not far behind, pulling the wolf off the fresh kill and swearing loudly at her in orcish. "My apologies," he says, once the animal is again under control.
-------------
Guthlag looks up at the riders. As the Band had just observed, a group of soldiers here was in the wrong place, not helping innocent villagers barely a day's walk away. Perhaps they stay just far enough away to accept payment at the turn of each new moon. He moves quietly towards Snowbell, taking the reins and helping Hamish to his feet. "I don't," he told the rider. "My name is Guthlag." Fangor had called him Guthlag Hardfoot once, but Fangor was dead now. Gubble called me Hardfoot too. Wizard.
"The young lady indicated family residing in Fairhill, not the rest of us, sir. The rest of us are traveling With her. These roads can be dangerous at times." the halfling smiles "Lovely weather we are having, don't you think? Imagine how well the local gardens will be growing."
Gubble tries to be personable.
"Funny" - the leader of the group raised an eyebrow at Gubble, then turned to one of the riders at his side - "Fairhill...?"
"That small hovel sir. Beyond the forest and a few miles to the north of the Tradeway" - the man clarified.
"Ah yes, I remember it now" - he pondered - "Wasn't there a group on the road coming from there a few weeks back? Complaining about orcs or some such?"
"Exactly sir"
"Well..." - the leader focused his attention on the group again - "As you have heard, there have been some... Sightings of orcs it seems. On top of the recent problems with gnolls, and the usual loveliness of the Stoneheart Forest" - he seemed to speak to Gubble directly now - "Stick to the road, try to make camp at the Waystations when possible, and that's about it I guess. Understood?" - he paused - "Good! Now move along!"
"Thank you sir. The advice of the experienced is always welcome.". Gubble says respectful, then urges his companions to move along.
Trying not to chuckle at Hamish's misfortune, Naomi nods then the leader asks "Fairhill?" Smiling as the soldier describes the town her grandparents live in. Though hearing orcs had been a problem, she hoped her dad's parents were alright.
Hoping Hamish would be able to get the mule to follow the officer's instructions, Naomi looked down at Thistle telling the wolf, "بیا خار" she began to move forward, the grey wolf wagging her tail following along. As Gubble urges the others, she moves closer to the halfling, "Did you hear that Gubble, Orcs near Fairhill? Can we swing by and check on my grandparents?"
Hamish gives Guthlag and appreciative, if somewhat damp, nod of thanks. At the commander's order to move along, Snowbell calmly and compliantly steps across the stream where Guthlag can then lead here aside so the patrol can pass. Squelching with every step and with the jaunty feathers of his wide hat bedraggled and drooping, Hamish also clears the way for the patrol.
"Orcs. Gnolls. If I might ask sir, what do you mean by the usual loveliness of the forest? We've heard about giant spiders and sorcery from another caravan that suffered mightily from attacks by such creatures. Are there other threats we should be aware of?"
"Oh and you should probably add human bandits to your list. We just drove off a band sporting some kind of simple bird banner who were attacking a group of local farmers making their way to the Bard's Gate markets."
Guthlag stiffens and looks away from the soldiers. How many days back to Bard's Gate? I could make it. He leads Snowbell across quietly, not talking to her or anyone else while he pulls her off the path. Those bandits could be following us, they might pick me off on the way back. He keeps Cann close, staying quiet while everyone passes.
Maybe I don't need to run. The thought had touched Guthlag's mind before. There were five others with him now, and two wolves. He had killed another man not two days past, the deed still fresh in his heart. A smile spread slowly across the half-orc's face as he looked around at the others.