As the element of surprise is lost, Nidintu switches plans, charging the bandit leader while snarling a battle cry. "Victory or death!" As he nears Kressle, he brings his axe up and around, his strength bolstering its impressive momentum as it swings into her side.
Nidintu-Bel's strike almost lifts Kressle off her feet, but the woman is an experienced combatant; she twist, regaining her balance, and draws her hatchets with a snarl, ready to retaliate.
Eskra mutters a few words in Sylvan before they look over to Carageorn and smile, nodding slightly.
The flowers and thorny vines that decorate Carageorn's swords flare with eerie green light as Eskra says, "Go on, then, let's make these bandits regret the day they crossed us."
As his blades surge with power, Carageorn roars with delight as he charges forwards, long legs carrying him across the battlefield towards the enemy.
"Parasites upon the skin of the wild, honorless hunters, rue the lash of the thorn of the flowering vine!"
Roots Raises his Shield and Strides 50' closer (but behind the awful and brave Carageorn)!
Halrod lets loose a couple of arrows at Kressle, hoping to take out the leader before she can bring to bear those fearsome hatchets.
The bandits scramble for their weapons, jumping to their feet as chaos erupts in their camp. One of them babbles as he sees Carageorn "The curse! The forest's curse!" A fifth bandit stands up on the raised platform to the west, where he had been keeping lookout. Most of the bandits loose a veritable hail of arrows on Nidintu-Bel and Carageorn, while one of the bandits draws his dagger to come at the elf warrior in melee.
Kressle twirls her hatchets, grinning at Nidintu with bloodied teeth, and launches into a flurry of attacks. "O-ho-ho, I'm going to enjoy cutting you to pieces!" She shouts over her shoulder to the bandits. "Leave this one to me! Slaughter the rest." Her last strike is made with the flat of her blade rather than the edge - clearly she is trying to knock him out - but Nidintu-Bel raises his axe to block the blow at the last second.
The Forest's Curse INDEED!
Xavin shouts as they feel even more primal energy course through them, the bluebird feathers ringing their neck ruffles and stand on edge as Xavin and directs it at Kressle.
Then they take a quick shot at Kressle.
Roots seems prepared to launch himself into the thick of the fray! That is until the hail of arrows and flurry of daggers pierce and slice the elf like cheddar!
It looks like it hurts.
The Storm druid sighs!
You are sooo lucky!
The druid cast Heal on his bloody friend.
Roots then Raises his Shield.
Nidintu gasps in pain as the four arrows find their mark through the gaps in his armor, staggering back a step, but as his friend's healing magic washes over him, he rallies, laughing. "You say I am lucky, yes? Lucky to have a friend such as you? Indeed it is so, little one!" He shakes his head, returning his attention to Kressle. As he advances, he grins, spitting out a mouthful of his own black blood. "As for you, child, single combat is for fools or the outnumbered. Thrice-tenth, I've held a blade since before your grandmother could walk - you think I'm scared of you?" He turns and slashes at the orange-haired bandit who stabbed him in the back, then brings his axe helve up firmly into the bandit leader's face.
The bandit who had stabbed Nidintu falls, unlikely to ever get up again. The blow aimed at Kressle lands on her chin, snapping her head back as she topples backwards, unconscious.
Roots looks at Nidintu. Roots looks at the crushed Bandit lady. Roots looks back up at Nidintu.
Wat da f&##!
SURRENDER OR DIE! Xavin shouts. The Forest itself turns against you! Xavin motions at Roots and Carageon to do scary things!
Eskra strides forwards. Their voice takes on a rhythmic intonation as they begin to speak in a manner more like their fey companion, "And lo, did the hero Carageorn stride forth from the wood, bravely to face the brigands of the Ironwood. His blades shone like ice and cut like water, and their doom bayed like dogs on the hunt at his side."
As they speak, images of spectral hounds flicker in and out around Carageorn and the closest bandit.
As Eskra's tale of his old glories settles in, Carageorn charges forth, roaring, "Yes, yes! I am the curse of the wood, the vengeful hunter, the bloody briar upon the rose!"
He moves up to the bandit that Eskra had called out in their story, and slashes at the brigand with his blade.
"Wat da f&@~!"
Nidintu frowns disapprovingly at his diminutive friend. "Where did you-" He is interrupted as an arrow flies at him, narrowly missing his skull as he jerks his head back. "Where did you learn such language, little one? You are surprisingly foul-mouthed, for a child. Children should not say such words; Erastil doesn't approve, he doesn't - at least, that's what Ardeth told Vanrith and me."
Carageorn almost take the bandit's head off, wounding him grievously. Halrod advances, aiming to finish the job.
Another bandit comes running through the underbrush, looking startled as he comes face to face with the fey warrior.
The others loose a few more arrows before turning tail and attempting to flee.
Roots looks up shyly at Nidintu's rebuke.
I was taught Taldane by a foul mouthed caterpillar. What the f%*%.
The Root leshy giggles.
Seeing that two of the bandits were attempting to disregard the justice being brought to them, the Storm Druid begins casting!
Mud Pit
Roots then points at the now mud slogging escapees.
Somebody may want to catch those two.
Nidintu nods at Roots's statement, striding after the two escaping bandits and swinging the flat of his axe at one's head.
Nidnitu easily takes out one of the bandits, while the other is floundering in Roots-Sink-Deep's muddy pit.
Xavin lets the weight of the trees around him sink into his bow, focuses on the bandit in front of Carageon and fires two quick arrows at them.
* Gravity weapon on bow. (+2 damage)
* hunt Prey bandit in front of Carageon
* Hunted shot on bandit
Eskra continues spinning their tale, "And mighty were Carageorn's blades, and they shone and flashed as he fought the brigands of the Ironwood."
They take a deep breath, channeling power into Carageorn's strikes.
Carageorn strikes twice at the bandit in front of him, intent on finishing the fight and proving his prowess.
Xavin's arrows miss their mark, but Carageorn easily dispatches the startled bandit.
Halrod takes a few more steps forward, aiming at the one caught in the mud pit, slaying him on the second shot.
Only one bandit is left, fleeing westwards across the river.
Xavin rushes forward, nimble feet allowing them to get into a clear shot of the fleeing one and losses a single shot.
Roots pouts!
Nidintu dashes after the fleeing bandit, ducking through the forest as he chases his cowardly foe. "Hear me a moment, friend." When the bandit turns to look at him, Nidintu gives him a nightmarish grin, displaying his impressive array of knife-like teeth. "You're outnumbered, and I can run faster than you can. Now, I could run you down, knock your brains out, and carry you back to my friends, but you'll save me trouble and save yourself a headache if you surrender now."
The bandit briefly turns to look over his shoulder, screams and promptly wets himself. Unfortunately, he does not seem amenable to surrender, only to running even faster away from Nidintu.
Nidintu's grin vanishes as the bandit continues to flee. "Thrice-tenth, another runner! I overdid it there, I think." He turns and calls back to the rest of the party. "Eskra, Carageorn, Roots, tie up the prisoners before they come around. Find some new pants for Spineless here, while you're at it. Xavin, Halrod, if we flank him, he's as good as ours!"
With that, he sets off into the woods after the fleeing bandit. "All you're doing is making more trouble for yourself! Look - I'm not a monster, friend. I'm not going eat you or dismember you or anything of the sort, but you need to come back with us. The Old Forest is a dangerous place, and I doubt its denizens will give you the same assurances. Even if you get away, you'll be long dead before the Stag Lord has the chance to execute you for your incompetence."
Carageorn begins to laugh uproariously as Nidintu begins to chase the bandit, "Nay, I shan't leave the field while foes yet persist. We give chase, as the jackle-bear to the skittery beasts! Off and away, ruin and glory, fire and song!"
With that, he takes off running alongside the elf.
Eskra huffs before yelling at the now-sprinting Carageorn, "Some thanks for the tale would've been nice!"
They kick a tuffet of grass on the ground, "Him and his damn honor. Why do I even bother, sometimes?"
With that, they get to tying up the bandits with whoever stays behind.
Between the two chasing warriors the running bandit is quickly brought down and dragged back to camp, while the rest are tying up the few still alive. Most of them have been pierced by arrows and sliced by blades beyond any hope of survival. Only two are left alive, and Kressle their leader.
Under the wooden platform overlooking the campfire there is a heap of supplies covered by a tarp - tents, firewood, food, coils of rope. Hidden under the folded tents is a small chest containing their ill-gotten gains.
Roots waves to the pursuing Nidintu. The small Root leshy then begins walking about the captured bandits. Blue eyes weighing them each individually as definitely wanting!
You all are charged with unlawful banditry that shall be marked for hanging, beheading or buried to your necks in sand while patiently awaiting the eminent arrival of fire ants.
The Storm Druid pauses in mid circling of the trio.
Or all three depending on the actual availability of said rope, axe or fire ants. They all keep super busy schedules.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Backed by Carageorn, Nidintu quickly catches up with the fleeing bandit, laying him flat with a fist to the jaw. Without apparent difficulty, he hoists the recumbent bandit over his shoulder and unceremoniously carries him back to the camp like a sack of grain.
At the camp, as the group waits for the bandits to regain consciousness, he examines their ill-gotten gains. Curious, he uncorks a bottle of the liquor and sniffs it before wrinkling his nose in disgust. "This is hog swill, it is! If the Stag Lord drinks this on the regular, he must have guts of steel!"
As the prisoners begin to stir, the foul potables are forgotten as Nidintu moves over to the captured bandits. Seeing Kressle in the different light, he narrows his eyes behind his spectacles, tilting his head to the side as he thinks. "You there - Kressle, yes? You're Tianna's son Kavik's girl, aren't you? I knew your grandmother, I did, back when I lived in Mivon. You have her eyes - her jaw, too." He glances down and kicks at one of her hatchets. "Shame about that business on the King's Road, though. Back in the day, there were few I'd rather have by my side when the time comes to crack some skulls. You know, she would have given you an earful if she saw you using one of these little toys in a real combat - and you call yourself a bandit!"
The massive tiefling looks back up at the bandit leader. "So, Kressle, daughter of Kavik, son of Tianna, we have much to talk about. Your hand ripped Svetlana's wedding ring from her finger, and your hand will be the one to bear it back to her." He gives a grin like a small armory and hefts his axe menacingly. "You may refuse if you so wish - in that case, your hand will still return the ring, but it will not be attached to your arm. Furthermore, we need information - how many of the old camps flock to the Stag Lord's banner? How many captains can he muster against Restov and its forces?"
He begins to pace back and forth in front of the three prisoners, speaking to them as a group. "As for the topic of redemption, all three of you will be set free if you swear an oath on the Six River Freedoms that you will give up this life of banditry. Those too stupid to take this chance will die swiftly and painlessly. These are your two options - there will be no debate."
Kressle stares at Nidintu-Bel open-mouthed. After several moments, she regains her wits enough to answer. "I'll be damned! Grandma told stories about you!" She looks past the former bandit at the rest of the group. "So, you have your own gang now? Are you musclin' in on the Stag Lord's territory? Or what's your deal?"
Her expression sours at the mention of Svetlana's ring. "Don't have it. Damn gremlins snuck into the camp a few weeks back, made off with a bunch of trinkets. You want that ring, they live under the old sycamore tree, to the east." Her expression turns sly as Nidintu begins asking about the Stag Lord's forces. "So you are looking to take over this turf! Hah! Well, I don't mind tellin' you, as long as I can join up!"
She works her jaw a little, still sore from the blow that knocked her out. "He has three lieutenants with him, but it's hard to keep track of how many others.... Wait, what d'you mean, give up this life of- Why can't I join up with you? I was born and raised to this life! I was helping my parents shake down travellers since I was five! Well, before they got killed in that botched ambush..." She looks genuinely confused at what Nidintu is asking of her and the others.
Roots looks at the return of Nidintu with the escapee. The Druid joins the Elf in his interrogation of the leader.
Gremlins? Really? Sycamore tree to the East seem vague. Like there's only one. Join up?
Roots looks up at his friend.
Perhaps, a probation period is not without merit? Every kingdom needs a spymaster.
"Sycamore tree to the East seems vague. Like there's only one."
Nidintu raises his eyebrows, glancing over at Roots. "Only one that really matters, sure enough. You can't miss the Old Sycamore - biggest tree for miles, it is. They say it's haunted, or has a mind of its own. We'll want to be wary if we're to venture near it."
Nidintu looks chagrined at Kressle's response. "Excuse me, my friends, but could I speak with Kressle and the other two here for a moment?" Regardless of whether the others leave, after a moment of silence, he addresses the bandit leader somewhat sheepishly. "Look, I'm sorry about the whole 'off with their heads' speech just now. The other elves with me are highborn from Kyonin, and they report back to different highborn in Restov. None of them understand banditry as an Institution like it is here in the Stolen Lands. I do as best I can, but I think they expect all the bluster and threats." The massive warrior shrugs as he lowers himself into a sitting position facing Kressle. "Anyway, I'm no bandit anymore - after that horrible fire at Tanith's Point, I got Religion, I did - but I grew up in these parts, and I remember how banditry used to be, back in your grandmother's day. We robbed rich merchants and pilgrims bound for Mendev, sure enough, but we barely harmed anyone except those who were looking for trouble - so-called 'heroes' and the like - and we provided for the community. There's nothing wrong with the old 'road-fee' and 'bridge-fee' bits - we were the ones who maintained them, after all, so why shouldn't we charge for them? Young Nettles did that, true enough, and nobody's bothered him about it for twenty-nine years! People grumble, they do, but not as much as they do when the Rogarvian tax-men kick down their doors to count how many beans they have in their cellar."
The towering tiefling gives an admonishing look to Kressle before continuing. "The Stag Lord doesn't understand, either. Look at how his crew has treated Oleg and Svetlana! Back in the day, I knew every caravan guard on the old Holtaksen Road from dwarven lands - by name, mind you! Besides which, all this bluster about 'ruling these lands' is just that, and it brings down the wrath from Pitax and Brevoy quicker than anything else! That's what we're doing in these parts, after all, and believe me, we're the nicest fellows they sent out. The Restov highborn hired some ex-crusaders from Mendev, they did - you should be glad you didn't cross them! There's another fellow named Tartuccio - little twit, he is - who signed on with all these religious nutters, all talking about 'dust before Groetus' and 'the end of all times' - if they caught you, you'd probably end up disemboweled on an altar somewhere so some 'big cousin' of mine-" At this, he raps on one of his horns for emphasis. "-could hunt down everyone you've ever known. Look, there are many ways to 'not be a bandit' - I'm 'not a bandit' anymore, but I'm quite happy with mercenary work, and I have no problem with you joining us myself, though I'd have to check with the others, of course. I'm sure the highborn can call you all 'royal wardens' or some such once the Stag Lord's dead, but you can't keep murdering people and stealing everything they own! Thrice-tenth, when did protection money stop buying real protection?"
Xavin is more than happy to let Nidntu take the lead. They squat down and puts his hand on the soil, trying to understand the latest manifestations of their parting fae gifts. They'd never been a spellcaster but now there were all these... things they could do. It was quite amazing. Shaking themselves out of it they look at Roots. Roots. I'm finding myself being able to do these things.. can you tell if they are like the magic that you wield? I feel like I should understand.
Roots smiles up at Xavin.
May as well start trying them out. We will be here awhile...
Kressle throws back her head and laughs. "So, what you're saying, you're still a bandit but just don't call yourself one. Protection money is called 'taxes' now, am I right? I heard of something like this on the Inner Sea - pirates hired by one government or another, they call them 'privateers' and pardon their past misdeeds." Her expression turns shrewd. "I like it. Better than hangin', anyway. Alright, I'm in. I'll bust the heads you tell me to bust."
The other two bandits, frightened by Nidintu-Bel and Carageorn, are also ready to swear the oath and try their chances at more honest enterprises.
Nidintu grins at Kressle's words. "I'm glad to hear you agree! You'll all become mercenaries, and we won't have to hang you. When we pave the way for the highborn from Brevoy to make this a kingdom like they want, there's sure to be a place for those like us in the guards or some such. I think it'll take some explaining to the others, but I owe your grandmother at least that much."
He glances at Kressle before continuing. "Did she ever tell you about the time she saved my life? It was during those religious wars in Touvette, it was, when Boss Tanith and his gang ambushed a payroll shipment for the Pitaxans. There we were - Tianna with her battleaxe, Boss Tanith with his greatsword, and me with my meteor hammer, and the lot of us outnumbered five to one, but your grandmother..." The massive warrior trails off, clearing his throat and adjusting his spectacles. "...Likely a longer story than we have time for. Perhaps another time - for now, I had best talk to the others."
Nidintu gets to his feet and approaches the other members of the fae pack. "My friends, if I could speak with you a moment? I've had a talk with Kressle and the other two, and as it turns out, they hate the Stag Lord as much as we do. They aren't bad people, but they haven't had a chance to fight back against the Stag Lord until now. They can still swear the oath and all that - they'll be 'mercenaries' instead of bandits, so those Restov highborn don't get upset, and when this is all over, we can give them jobs instead of hanging them." He sighs, lowering his eyes so as not to meet his allies' gaze. "Look, I thought you might be against it, but Kressle's keen, she is - how else would she make captain this early? Besides which, I owe a debt to her grandmother, and I think the least I can do is keep Kressle from losing her head."
Xavin shurgs at Nidintu. We should speak on how much we serve Restov and how much we serve what is good for these Lands. But I have no objection to turning as much of this Stag Lord's strength against him. Since you have formed a bond with her, could you find out how many other of his followers are not very loyal to him, how much time we have before he figures out we are picking off his patrols, and anything else we can find out about his Fort?
For Root, Xavin demonstrates the various magic tricks they can do. The most unusual is the dancing lights Xavin can conjure, with a little bit of extra effort, Xavin's dancing lights come together and flash so bright that they dazzle anyone close to them. They don't just provide illumination.
At Xavin's words, Nidintu nods. "As you say, my friend. I'll speak with-" The massive fighter is interrupted, however, as Xavin demonstrates the four spheres of light for Roots - as the spheres converge with a burst of light, Nidintu's arm jerks upwards to shield his eyes, and he snarls out a curse in Abyssal. "Ḫiriṣ gallê lemni!"
He lowers his arm and scowls at Xavin. "You ask about magic, my friend? Believe me, I know such spells well, and you'd best be wary about how you use them! My father used that power, he did, and the things it showed him twisted him, corrupted him from a pious Desnan priest to a worshiper of dark things between the stars. Take care with such magic, my friend, or it may overcome you as well."
As the towering tiefling speaks, his yellow eyes flick nervously around the clearing, and his tail lashes back and forth in agitation - the topic of occult spells clearly unnerves him, and this is undoubtedly the most frightened any of his friends has ever seen the normally lively warrior. "Look, if you truly have the gift - if you can call it a gift! - for such spells, I can write to my brother Vanrith - he knows far more about such matters - but I warn you, there's something... off about him. He rarely speaks, and when he does, it's often about things that haven't happened yet. Even my father's disciples thought he was strange."
Xavin sighs. The Fae are capricious to say the least. This Light trick of mine certainly does not feel like the others. The others feel like they come from the forest. This one feels like my mind is splitting open just a bit, forcing the world to change.
If you feel comfortable enough to speak to your brother about this, then please write to him. And I will trust you to keep an eye on me to see if I start acting strange. Xavin ruffles their blue feathers. Well, strange in a a different way I suppose.
Eskra sees Xavin's magical powers, "Nice tricks there. The mind splitting open...well, there are stranger ways to get power. I barely understand how I do what I do, save for that it relates to my agreement with Carageorn."
As Eskra talks to Xavin, Carageorn gets to business of his own.
He kneels before the two lesser bandits, "So, wayward sons of the forest, brigands without cause, I hath a proposal to grant you. Forsaken, thou hast, to forswear banditry. What I offer to thee is the chance to become something greater. I would grant you the chance to become my squires, my men-at-arms, my protegees. I teach and protect you, and thou shalt serve me. Once a year and a day hath passed, you shall be free, made nobles in the kingdom this group is to forge."
Roots begins chasing the lights provided by Xavin around laughing with delight!
Erastil has granted me special abilities too! It's from the Nature!
The two bandits look at each other, considering. "That's... not a bad deal," muses one, adding hurriedly "sir." The other chuckles, "Certainly better job security than we've had so far!" They swear themselves in service to Carageorn as squires, and thus the fey warrior learns their names: Dalan and Ikke.
As the looted items are loaded or otherwise secured, the dead bandits have been buried and the live ones have sworn their oaths, night is falling and the Wildwood Band prepares to make camp.
Linzi has been busy writing down the description of the battle and making rather a lot of sketches of Kressle - the former bandit does strike a rather dashing figure with her braids and headscarf, large silver earrings and twin hatchets. Amiri has been helping with the inventory of the loot, particularly helpful when it comes to appraising the quality of the furs.
Roots considers their next move.
We've got a ring to find and some plants to gather as side errands, do we want to do that rather than head straight to the Stag Lord.
The Root leshy winks.
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
Nidintu helps to bury the dead bandits, and as night falls, he pulls out his cooking gear and begins to make supper at the camp's fire pit. At Roots's words, he glances at the little leshy. "I think we should find Svetlana's ring first, then gather Bokken's fangberries on the way back to the trading post. We've already got the moon radishes for Svetlana, but it would be best if we had something else to bring her besides."
As he cooks, the garrulous elf tries to make small talk with anyone who will listen, the raspy hiss of his voice barely audible over the crackle of the fire. "You know, I didn't know how to cook until I became a bandit. The first night I tried to make supper for the camp, Boss Tanith took me aside after he was done eating. 'Son,' he said to me, 'Gorum's got no greater blessing than a warrior who will eat hardtack without complaint, but he's got no greater curse than a cook who will do the same.'" He shrugs. "I don't know - I always liked it, myself. Never could understand what all the fuss was about. Anyway, he gave the job to Malicos the Butcher, a tiefling slave escaped from Cheliax. Twitchy little fellow, he was, but he was a nice guy - wouldn't hurt a fly. Everyone called him 'the Butcher' because he used to make sausages in Artume." He clears his throat before continuing. "Anyway, I watched what he did, and I took over again when he died trying to rob some pilgrims on the old Holtaksen Road." The massive warrior scowls. "Thought they'd surrender easy, on account of them not having any weapons. Didn't know they were Irorans."
Over a simple, slightly burnt stew of salt pork and parsnips with hardtack, Nidintu speaks with Kressle and the other bandits about a few of Xavin's questions. "Tell me, my friends, do any of the Stag Lord's other people feel as you do? Is it worth saving any of them, do you think, or are they all fanatics? If any of them are decent enough, we'd have to get to them quick, before the Stag Lord notices you haven't reported in." He tilts his head to one side, lost in thought for a moment, before a grin spreads across his face and he speaks again. "...This liquor's for the Stag Lord, right? That means you have to send tribute shipments to him or something. What if we take him his drink, tell him about all the mercenaries from Restov roughing up his bandits, and say we're reinforcements from Thorn Ford to shore up his defenses? We sneak in, separate out the fanatics from those too fearful or too smart to act against the Stag Lord themselves, and hit him where it hurts."
Nidintu spends the rest of the night joking with the party's more boisterous members , regaling them with tales from his time as a brigand. "Here's something I'll bet you didn't know, Kressle. You know the old 'broken cart' trap for merchant caravans? Your grandmother practically invented that, she did! Why, one time..."
"...and so she says, 'Look, Jessop, I'll do my part, and I bet your disguise'll fool them, but if you put the pitborn in that dress, you'll stop the caravan master's heart, you will!' Of course, it didn't matter, because as soon as I saw it, I punched Jessop so hard I knocked out one of his teeth." As the Wildwood Band readies their night watches, Nidintu volunteers for the midnight shift, as is his norm. "I don't need the campfire to see, and I don't mind having some time to look at the stars in quiet, I don't. Always helped me sleep when I was a boy."