Iragha grunts and curses at all the right moments as Ralina minsters to the wound. She gasps a little as the bolt is freed, locking eyes with the halfling as she does so, almost daring the little one to laugh or otherwise make light of her discomfort. Ralina does not seem to want to betray a healer’s oath, and Iragha grunts again in satisfaction, inspecting the wound and assisting with the bandaging. Iragha takes a small sip of the brandy “for the pain” and slumps back, disconsolately staring at the fire.
She nods morosely, but rises to make a wan smile at the memory Ralina evokes.
”Aye, and you fought bravely too Ralina. On the morrow we clean this place out and, perhaps, do better.”
Taking a cue from the others, the half-orc produces her own measly rations and returns to staring into the golden embers of reverie. Her musings interrupted by the intelligence of the lost prisoner, Iragha shrugs.
”May he die of sepsis after piercing his foot on a thorn in the woods. Praise be to Shune...”
The old man, as the only one not wounded, busies himself with a more through search of the dead. Bringing all weapons and things of value to a pile near their camp. Including boots.
Then he eyes them, thinking about something, then returns to ask those with more wood smarts "Do we need to move them?" his head nods toward a body to state what the 'them' is.
Ralina nods at the old wizard's suggestion then looks over at Yriel. "It isn't the stink we need to worry about. At least not what we can smell." She says between bites of jerky. "But there's plenty of critters and beasts that skuttle, slither, and scurry through caverns like this lookin' fer an easy meal." She slices off another bite of jerky with her knife and points the blade and the mass of dead bandits. "A buffet of easy meat like that is bound to draw the attention of...something. I say we drag 'em into the far end of the eastern chamber."
She drags herself upright letting slip only a minor grimace of pain. "I'll help you Creeg."
Creeg nods at Ralina "Same for sharks" he said, explaining the reason he thought of it. Then he moves with the halfling to grab feet and drag.
Creeg and Ralina's search of the corpses reveals they all carried shortswords and shields, while some had also the small horns, six in total. Some of them carried some coins also.
Seven Short Swords
Eight Shields
Seven Leather armors
One chainmail
One Longsword
4 Crosswbows and a few bolts
20 gold pieces
150 silver pieces
A silver tooth
A cracked handheld mirror
An undersized pearl
In the western cave they both notice also the air is slightly less damp, replaced with the dry, musty scent of old parchment and leather.
In the center of the room, a large, ornately carved wooden chair sits facing the entrance - a throne of sorts. The walls are adorned with a collection of stolen goods: fine tapestries, polished weapons, and other valuable trinkets. A sturdy table strewn with maps and documents sits off to one side, and a simple bedroll lies in the corner.
The north side of the room is dominated by a substantial barricade, a haphazard construction of crates, furniture, and other debris, all reinforced with thick wooden beams. It completely blocks the passage leading further into the cave, and the bandits have obviously made it robust enough to keep out any unwanted visitors from the deeper parts of the cave system. Getting past it will require some time to dismantle it.
As they are dragging the corpses toward the east, Yriel's perceptive ears pick up a muffled sound coming from the tunnel leading in that direction, perhaps moaning mixed with scuffing or shuffling.
Ralina rummages through the bandit's belongings and finally settles on a reasonably sharp and well kept short sword along with half of the crossbow bolts. The other bolts she hands off to Iragha. Stacking up the coins, she is just beginning to divide by four when Yriel says something about noises coming from the direction that didn't have a barricade blocking the way.
"Of course they didn't block the right passage." She mutters and barely stops herself from kicking one of the bodies. "Bloody useless tunnel scum."
She once again grabs her torch from her pack. Stops. Looks around at the others to make sure nobody else has already set one alight. Seeing none, she jabs hers into the closest brazier and tosses it to Creed before taking a few seconds to load her crossbow.
Creeg catches the torch with ease enough, then moves behind the warrior with the shield, taking the second spot in the line since the other two were still bloodied.
She drags herself upright letting slip only a minor grimace of pain. "I'll help you Creeg."
Grunting as he stands, Yriel helps drag the corpses to the eastern end of the chamber.
Yriel, Creeg and Ralina crowd by the eastern tunnel - the sounds stop momentarily, then start again. Seconds later you hear a loud clatter of something being pushed around and perhaps tumbling to the ground!
Actions?
"Animal?" the wizard asks quietly to his companions.
Iragha yawns, much as a wolf will when anxious or unsure. Picking up and stowing shield and sword she painfully trudges after the trio, loaded crossbow at the ready. Falling in line behind the others she whispers.
”Though Shune of the milkless dugs sees fit not to bless me with healing arts for this day, I have other magics. Unless she fails me again, I can magic our weapons to be more…effective…should we find more foes…”
The rough corridor continues for about ten, twenty twisting feet, opening into another cave - scattered about the room are bedrolls and makeshift hammocks strung up between stalagmites. Personal belongings lie messily next to each sleeping area, a stark reminder of whatever lives these men led before they took up residence here.
The air is thick with the smell of burnt meat and old sweat. In the center, there is an almost extinct fire pit, giving off an eerie light and almost no heat.
There are two exits from the cave, one leading northeast and another southeast, where the sounds were coming from - they have completely stopped now.
Iragha nods in the flickering light of torch and dying firepit.
”Not yet. The blessing does not last long, but I will try to bless us each as the opportunity arises…”
Ralina crinkles her nose at the stink in the chamber. "Gods! Livin' like kings they were." She says shaking her head at the filthy camp and all the junk strewn about. But as her eyes linger on one of the hammocks, the pain and exhaustion of her wounds is evident. "Still, one of them hammocks might be a bit more comfortable than the cold hard ground."
Seeing the elf already moving down the southeast tunnel, she sighs, hefts her crossbow and follows along quiet as temple mouse.
Iragha scrunches her nose irritably. She’s seen orcs with more civility than what she sees here. Well, she hasn’t really, but she can’t imagine they would be *this* slovenly. Keeping a weather eye on their rear and the disappearing mouth of the northeastern tunnel she follows the others down the southeastern tunnel.
As you step into the dimly lit chamber, the flickering light of your torch reveals a chaotic scene. Crates and barrels lie scattered across the floor, some overturned, their contents spilled in disarray. Amidst the debris, you hear again the faint, desperate sounds of someone struggling.
Your eyes are drawn to a corner of the room where a young woman, bound and gagged, is frantically trying to free herself. Her blonde hair is matted with blood and tangled, and her robes are torn and stained. Bruises mar her fair skin, and her eyes, wide with fear, dart towards you as you enter.
She freezes for a moment, hope and uncertainty mingling in her gaze. Then, with renewed determination, she resumes her efforts to escape, her movements causing more crates to topple over with a loud crash.
The woman initially tries to move away scuttling backwards, but then seems to calm down somewhat and remains motionless.
All the while she keeps her eyes intently on Yriel.
Seeing the bruised and battered young woman, Ralina lowers her crossbow and offers the prisoner a friendly smile.
"Aye, the elf speaks true." She says calmly. "Assuming you were taken by those scoundrels fertilizing the tunnel back there, you've nothing left to worry about. Best hold still a moment while Yriel frees your bonds."
As she talks, the halfling tries to get a closer look at the prisoner in an attempt to see if she recognizes her.
Knowing her half-orc featured will play against her, Iragha tries her best to be as unobtrusive as possible.
Keeping one eye on events involving maidens in distress, Iragha keeps watch, crossbow held out.
Creeg steps out of the way of the others, keeping the torch up so they could see, but otherwise leaving them to it.
As Yriel removes the gag, the woman takes a deep breath, her eyes darting between each of you as she evaluates her situation. Her voice, though calm, carries an undercurrent of wariness. “Thank you,” she begins, then quickly follows with, “What’s your connection to Alaric? Do you work for him?”
The Church of Karameikos is a modern cult with roots in Thyatian theology and philosophy. It is the religion followed by the vast majority of Thyatian-blooded Karameikans, as well as by many Karameikans of mixed blood, and some Traladarans.
It is mainly a Lawful religion, even though its pantheon includes Immortals of all alignments. It basically teaches that the fate of each soul in the afterlife is based on its balance of sins. The Church provides rituals through which worshippers may free their souls from sins. As such, the beliefs of the Church of Karameikos tend to take the form of very detailed precepts of life, with the associated penances for each violation.
In this sense, the Church is much more dogmatic than its Thyatian ancestor -- which simply mediates between Immortals and mortals, generally letting every Immortals' priesthood set its own standard and preach its own doctrine, within a general framework. This policy was chosen by the founders to ensure a greater cohesion of the new Church, and avoid the periodic crises that affected the Church of Thyatis.
The Church of Karameikos is also bent on proselytising. Missionary efforts have been mostly directed towards the Traladaran natives, though recently clerics are being sent to the Five Shires as well -- though, once more, with no success to report.
Iragha’s eyebrows raise a fraction for some reason, but whatever that reason is the worshipper of Shune keeps it to herself. Suffice to say that whatever the woman’s business is, Iragha fears no especial threat. The half-orc continues to stay alert, inspecting the destroyed crates and other detritus.
Finally, Iragha speaks, half-turned from the now-freed woman, crossbow pointing at shadows.
”A priestess of Karameikos. Why are you their prisoner? Where were you taken from?”
As Yriel unties the last of the ropes, they fall to the ground, and the woman instinctively rubs her wrists, easing the tension in her shoulders. Though free, her eyes remain guarded, carefully assessing each of you. She listens intently as Yriel and Iragha speak, and at the mention of Alaric Wrenhold, a flicker of recognition crosses her face.
"I see. Alaric and I have spoken about these caves," she begins, her voice steady but tinged with regret. "I told him of my plans to investigate the area, but he wanted me to wait until he could assemble a group for safety. I... I was impatient. I thought I could handle it on my own, but clearly, I underestimated the danger." - she shakes her head.
Noticing Iragha's keen observation of her, she acknowledges the half-orc’s perceptions. "I am a cleric of the Church of Karameikos yes. As for why they took me... perhaps they saw me as a threat to whatever they were doing here. Or perhaps they had other plans. Either way, I am very grateful for your intervention." - you seem to spy the hint of a relieved smile.
Her gaze then shifts to the many crates scattered around, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. "Whatever is going on here, it has to be more than simple banditry. Have you found anything that might shed light on what these creatures were up to?"
As you all glance around the cave, you notice it is indeed filled with stacked crates and barrels, a makeshift storeroom of sorts. The air is heavy with the smell of damp wood and stale grain, mingling with the faint tang of ale and wine. Most of the containers are closed, but some, spilled open during the commotion of her attempted escape, reveal their contents - salted meat, grain, and cheap ale.
Creeg continues his watch, alternating between watching the woman's reactions to watching the exits to the room. When looking at the woman, his eyes do look down to her hands, after Iragha mentions being a priestess.
The old man has seen plenty of people throw on a robe and hold a symbol, coming to get 'donations' from someone like him. Older, alone, etc. But their hands often would give them away.
"Looks like supplies for an army." Ralina says, stuffing some of the salted meat into her own ration pack. "Or maybe a large raiding party given what's actually here. Or there are other stashes hidden in the hills. Still, meat and ale for men, grain for horses." She shrugs. "Maybe Lord whatshisname is right, and someone is planning to make a move against the Keep."
The halfling stretches, yawns and stifles a wince of pain. "Not much to do about it until morning. And a little rest sounds mighty welcome to me." She adds heading toward one of the hammocks.
Iragha’s face is passive, inscrutable. She shrugs.
”Hmm. Rest. Respite. “Caves of Respite”. Priestess, three of us are…wounded. Are you able to call on…Karameikos’ light….to heal us? I promise not to tell my mistress….Shune.”
The half-orc locks eyes with the woman, as if daring to make their different dogmas….a problem, however the crossbow held in Iragha’s hand lowers slightly as if to seem less threatening.
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Creeg has a thought, moving away from watch to the crates and barrels to look for any markings etched in them.
Occasionally ports or merchants will stamp goods as they pass through their hands, which most would notice, and wash off if they didn't want anyone knowing where they came from.
But also sailors notch tiny shapes to represent their ship, so other sailors would know the travels of this barrel or that crate. Boredom and curiosity.
As the woman rubs her wrists, Creeg notices her long, slender fingers. The hands, though graceful, bear signs of hard work - knotted and marked with the faint scars of old scuffs, cuts, and bruises. She listens attentively, and when Yriel mentions the name Brom, she shakes her head. “I don’t know anyone by that name,” she says, her expression thoughtful. “Have you captured him?”
Her gaze then shifts to Iragha, who had requested healing. A look of regret crosses the woman’s face. “I’m afraid I’ve already called upon the last of my divine magic,” she says, clearly dismayed. “But if I can rest for a while, and am allowed to observe my prayers, I will gladly assist you with your wounds.” She hesitates for a moment, then adds with a short bow of her head, “My name is Aleena… And once again, I’m grateful for your help, but I admit I don’t fully know who you all are…”
Meanwhile, Creeg moves to inspect the crates and barrels scattered throughout the cave. The containers look mundane at first glance, but upon closer inspection, he notices subtle markings etched into some of the crates. These are faint shipping marks, the kind often used by traders to track goods. Though worn and partially scrubbed off, Creeg discerns a few telltale signs pointing toward the town of Kelvin along the Highreach River.
"Ralina Biggins" The halfling says trying to stifle a yawn as she does her best to knock away any mites, fleas, or other bugs that could have taken up residence in one of the hammocks. "Formerly in service to the Lord of Underhill and now a free halfling working for Lord Alaric and in desperate need of a bit of some shut eye."
Stopping her own preparations for resting, she looks at the thin yound woman and walks over to hand Aleena a chunk of the salted meat and some fresh water. "I'm guessing those tunnel rats didn't feed you much. So best you eat a little something."[/b] Ralina says to Aleena. "I've a bit of cheese in my pack as well if you need. But ain't no sense trying to pray on an empty stomach. A rumbling gut isn't really music to an immortals ears, my gran always used to say."