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So scouting would be: Lydia, Jam
Aljohar is undecided, and I don't know about Uthar. Spoiler:
Aljohar would be inclined to go with the scouting party - it's more likely to need a healer - but she's anything but stealthy. Does that sound right? I would like to make a character for the other party, but don't know what to make yet. Is Recruitment going to be the scouting playground?
Rather than tell the elder Winehorn about the details of troop movements and plans - basic info he can get from others - she instead talks about how in-charge Karrn seems to be: keeping the younger subcommanders from running off and chasing ghosts in the wilderness, concerning himself with long-term plans as well as tactical moves. Karrn is keeping the army together and giving priority to supplies, but is willing to entertain good strategies for dividing the enemy, demoralizing his troops, and possibly luring away others. She pushes Jam's ideas and her own, about using amnesties, land grants, pardons, or other means to lure the able-bodied out of the bandit troop and into useful citizenry.
Right there with you. I only have five hours of work today, which is like a vacation.
Sorry about the delay in voting; the site was not my friend (or anybody's, I think) for quite a while! When I managed to read a post, I inevitably could not reply. I guess Dual is OK, even if it's a classic party error. We're not precisely in a dungeon right now.
I think Uthar and I should go try to infiltrate the group. They'd doubtless love to have a big fighter/smith and a healer. Honestly, I'm not sure what to do. Aljohar would speak against splitting the group and probably advocate infiltrating. If Lydia takes a group to follow the bandits, Aljohar could join them BUT is not stealthy and would probably be a left-behind healer. I'm not sure what Karl and Lino were going to do with intrigue/diplomacy. Can anyone articulate what they were thinking of doing and what they were hoping to accomplish/derive from their path? Aljohar was thinking that if they got in with the main group, they could spy out what's really going on, sow discord, and sabotage efforts. However, they could end up split into different groups, held for ransom, or killed as spies. There are definitely problems with her idea!
Oh man... Are you guys sure we want to split the party?
I thought we could infiltrate the camp as veterans disgruntled with peace.
The discussion about sowing dissent seems to have sent Aljohar off into her own world, as she mutters to herself and ticks off points on her fingers: "Fear of elven kingdom; useful work to do - land, family; amnesty?; recruit for guard troops; common enemy..."
Aljohar nods agreement. "The two prisoners who helped us may be glad to defend the village and earn a place here, if the folk will tolerate them. The third is in no way trustworthy. He's one of those soldiers who find their life worthwhile only in battle, like many of this cult. There seem to be two factions in the group. The main faction is lead by one they call Barabbas, who preaches the idea of isbrid hinafid, an elvish warrior spirit. One can attain that status by training hard and fighting in battle. And to do that, they need battles - lots of them." She grimaces. "Then there's a smaller faction led by one Martan, who sounds more sinister - blood and power and, by rumor, cannibalism. Life beyond death. I'm not sure if this is an undead cult or gruesome warriors. As if war isn't horror enough." "One more thing, my Lord, if I may be so bold. One of the cooperative prisoners is the brother of the die-hard. Their presence here might be disruptive, and execution of the one might make the other hostile. You may wish to ship them all elsewhere to be held and interrogated or... whatever. The villagers may be out for blood once they learn of the prisoners, and discipline here must be maintained. Forgive me if I presume, Lord Winehorn." Aljohar lapses back into silence.
Aljohar touches the wounded and returns their strength. She nods at Lino. "I thought we could protect them, but deferred to your mercy. There was reason to your action. It proved a good test, as well. Now we know better. Let's bind Pol again; he has forfeited all trust. There's nothing I can do for the dead, but his friends can at least bury him. And we need to catch and calm the horses who bolted." She looks up into the rain and sighs, letting the cool moisture bathe her heated face.
New keyboard tomorrow. Will resume posting then.
Aljohar says to Lydia in passing, "Good, keep clear of the beasts if you can. I must help the smith; we need him standing." She moves close behind the big man, drawing her gift from the village and tapping him with the wand.
Ooh, shiny!
Aljohar hisses as the stinging tentacle whips across her flesh. NOW I remember the not fun parts of war. She reaches out to touch Lydia with Dol Dorn's holy symbol, watching out for those tentacles.
Drawing her longsword, she moves back to a position to heal the group without helping the damned cat-things.
Still sick; please give me a day or two. Gracias.
Aljohar sees Lydia drop and rushes towards the fallen hunter, holy symbol in hand, and prays for healing before she even reaches her downed friend.
Aljohar surveys the situation and, still in her bedroll, grabs a nearby rock , and taps it with her holy symbol, chanting a few clear words. The rock begins to shine as if it were a lighted brand.
"Sleep if you can," Aljohar tells the cook, hefting her healer's kit and kneeling to check Pol's and Milkrun's injuries and give them better leeching than the quick and dirty first aid they'd been provided so far.
"It's ammunition. The more fighters we can pry from his side, the fewer need to be met in battle."
"Dol Durn blesses those who contend for the cause of good, but he does not countenance pointless wars or strife for evil's sake. Martan and his bunch sound evil, or heading there quickkly." Alikai ponders for a moment. "Does it strike anybody else as strange that a warband led by elves decides to strike at human lands just when those lands have been severely weakened by years of war?"
Aljohar shifts restlessly. While silently agreeing with her companions, she was starting to realize that Cass was neither a danger nor one who had to be persuaded. On the other hand... "Who is this Martan and his bunch? Cannibals don't sound much like glorious warriors. They sound more like hunters gnawing the hearts of their kill and painting their faces with first blood," she says to Cass, trying to get the factions in the enemy camp laid out like a map in her head. Let's see, there are those frightened to leave, those who know nothing but of war - they may be persuaded away or even rescued. Then there are the true believers in Barabbas' mythos, and this Martan? He sounds dangerous, she muses to herself.
"Raising arms against farmers isn't glorious, it's slaughter. That said, we are a farm town, and those who can raise both crops and blades might be of use. If you truly are disgusted with the life Barabbas offered, you may receive clemency if you swear to help stand against him." Alikai shakes her head. "I can guarantee nothing, of course. There were deaths. But many of us have had enough of killing." The jump of excitement she feels inside at the thought of glorious war makes her feel like a hypocrite speaking words of peace and forgiveness.
"That's twice now I've heard that term - isbrid hinafid. What is meant by it? Some sort of immortal warrior state?" Aljohar frowns. "Such things are not uncommon among those who misunderstand how the gods work, or think the gods simple creatures to be bargained with safely."
"Headshot? And why would you need keeping in line, hmm?" She scrutinizes the groom. "Perhaps we should make sure he doesn't go running off for help tonight. Why were you lot left here instead of going along with the rest?"
Aljohar draws Cass aside and speaks quietly to him. "Lydia and I have tended the wound as best we could in the field. He would do better where he could be well cared for. The wound is inflamed, but mortification has not yet set in. I'll watch him tonight and provide strength as needed, then we can get him back to the village. There is another healer there who may be able to do more for him, and rest and good food will certainly be beneficial. Before we ride out tomorrow, I will give strength to both your brother and your angry friend - what is his name?"
Aljohar checks Pol's wound for "poison", uncertain if Cass means it's infected or actually poisoned. If the wound was sustained in town, she doubts it's a real poison. People are generally not in the habit of strolling around town with poisoned weapons.
"Say, Lydia, can you come look at this wound and give me your opinion?"
"This seems as good a place as any to make camp. Any objections to staying here for the night? We should watch in twos, I think," Aljohar suggests, wanting to be sure somebody keeps an eye on their reluctant guests, "Tomorrow, we can head back to town." Aljohar will heal the wounds of Pol and the groom in the morning, not wanting them to be fit enough to run off in the night.
"It's tough to doctor someone who's trying to bash your head in," Aljohar observes wryly, "Will you, his brother and friend, help restrain him while I work?"
"I can help him, Cass - heal him and at least keep him alive, help him fight off any poison. It's up to you to keep him from killing himself by fighting us, though." Aljohar holds up her holy symbol as a token of good faith.
Aljohar nods. "Now you come quietly back to town. You give us information about the group of bandits you're in, help us shore up defenses, help us plan an attack. If you do, justice will be tempered with mercy. We have need of strong bodies and good workers to help with work around town. Too many of our own were lost in the war. We can use good men. And I think that underneath it all, you are good men. Now you have a chance to prove it, make amends to the town and to Dol Dorn, and make a life you can be proud of."
Aljohar continues the conversation with Trimmer. "No, I'm not alone. You won't be harmed if you don't fight. Why would I not speak of honor in a time of death and want? Honor the way we choose to meet whatever circumstances - life, death, need, plenty. There is honor in war. There's no honor in thieving or attacking unarmed civilians, even children. So tell me, why do you choose to meet your trials with cowardice and theft? You will face sterner questions at the gates of hell if you unwisely decide to die here."
Aljohar remains still, letting the flickering firelight play over her as she replies to the question, voice stern and authoritative. ”I am an emissary of the Sovereign of Strength and Steel, who bids me call you to task. You who have fought in honorable warfare now shed blood for the sake of greed, the blood of those who were unarmed and not at war. Have you left the path of right and honor, soldiers? Or does higher duty force your hand? You know the creed. Do you seek damnation? Whomever you may worship, once you set foot on the battlefield, you become subject to the leader of the Sovereign Host. Why do you now break His laws? Speak! Give an accounting of your actions, before He loses patience.” She stops to allow them to answer, if they will, hoping that there has been enough time for her fellows to get into place while her voice filled the clearing and concealed the slight sounds of their movement. Slighter than hers, anyway.
Aljohar freezes for a moment, wishing she had a small rodent to toss in the direction of the fire.
Aljohar continues north on the west side of the fire, aiming to get behind a large thicket.
Aljohar motions to and Syrus to stay put. She taps Lino on the shoulder and points to her, then east; then she points to herself and north, indicating a pincer movement. She creeps off towards the north slowly.
Aljohar secures the horses to a nearby tree, petting their noses fondly to keep them calm and quiet. She follows her compatriots, but her departure worries her horse, who whinnies after her.
Aljohar slides from the saddle and quietly takes the reins of the scout's horses, not venturing forward. She has no illusions about being a decent scout, and waits patiently for them to do their job.
"We may get the most utility from taking the small group and gleaning information. We can't throw our little scouting force against an entire camp, after all, and even if we gather a larger force, intelligence about the layout will be key to planning an attack," Aljohar suggests, "We already know where they're going, and the wagons aren't taking anything critical to the village. I vote to take and question the small group."
I'm certainly up for continuing! But of course, if the GM doesn't feel engaged, it's tough to keep running. (Said from experience). So up to you, TT.
Aljohar stuffs the last of a cornmeal cake in her mouth and nods. "Agreed. I said my dawn prayers and am ready. Many thanks to you, kind hostess, but we must hurry, as Lydia says," Aljohar concurs in a cornbread-muffled manner, "Ready, Lino?" She quietly takes Martha aside and offers her remaining 3 gp in compensation for their meals. "We've put you out terribly and don't have time to work off our debt. Please accept this, our prayers, and our sincere thanks for your hospitality."
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