Chapter I - Into the Wilderness

Fresh from the kill, Otto leaps over the fire to accost the wolf-headed man. Whether it's a wolf's head as a covering, or the bandit has an actual wolf's head, Otto cares not. The latter might terrify him, but such thoughts are useless, and he knows what he has to do.

But knowing and doing are two different things, and a misstep after leaping over the fire leaves him a little off balance. Otto sees the opening, a chance at the big man's ribcage, but Otto is a fraction too late. The great sword slightly deflects Otto's axe slightly with a metal-on-metal shriek, but Otto's raw strength wins the day. The blade crashes through the parry, enough for edge to meet flesh. The axe draws across the man's upper arm, blood visible in the firelight.

Otto's intervention buys Adrasta enough time to regain her footing. Her shield arm hanging uselessly at her side, she leaps forward with a raw, animalistic roar.

The wolfman tries to jump out of her way, but Otto's swing has thrown him off balance. Adrasta collides with him and they tumble to the ground in a tangled mess. After a couple of seconds of struggle, she rolls off of him, her xiphos' blade coated in blood.

Between a few belabored breaths, she grins at Otto and says: "Help a Lady up, would you?"

moarhair wrote:

"Help a Lady up, would you?"

Otto quickly remembers his manners, drops his axe, and extends both hands to Adrasta.

Otto smiles to Adrasta as he extends his hands to grab hers. "Thanks for finishing the job", he says, pulling her up. "Another swing of that cleaver of his could have wiped the smiles from our faces."

He looks around the camp, a look of consternation crossing his face as he observes the sprawl of bodies. "Adrasta...", he says with some hesitance, "are we entirely certain this was the right camp?"

Back on her feet, Adrasta wipes her blade on the flap of the wolfman's tent, then sheathes it. "It was where Puppy said and fit its description, so I'd say yes."

She takes as deep a breath as she can, then pulls her left arm back into its socket. She groans with the pain, then slowly lets the breath out. She closes her eyes and focuses her energy. Her hands begin to glow faintly and she passes them over her flank and shoulder. The itchy feeling of mending flesh and the pain of bones returning to their proper place lasts but a moment, but still brings tears to her eyes. She quickly wipes them away once the feeling fades. She moves her shoulders and stretches, then moves over to Otto to do the same. Then, finally, she walks to Naesala and treats her wounds with her Art.

"I'll try and stabilize some of the dying. It would be good to know if they have any friends on their way home. Maybe they can also tell us about what's around here. Someone tie up the dog before it gives us any trouble."

Remembering his hesitancy throughout this whole ordeal, she walks over to Ardan, then kneels next to the bandit at his feet. She rolls the bandit onto his back and begins to patch up his wound. Ardan's single, clean stab makes her job easier. The blade seems to have perforated the man's lung. She quickly manages to close the hole and stem the bleeding. She would have to check up on him later, but he would live. She smiles up at Ardan. "Congratulations, it's assault, not murder."

She gets back up on her feet, then walks over to the two Otto brought down. She starts with the one who only took one blow, but it soon becomes apparent that his rib cage was caved in. His lungs are filling up with blood, drowning him slowly. "I'm sorry," she whispers to him, not unkindly. She takes her xiphos and gives him a quick death.

She moves on to the other one of Otto's victims. She tries her best, but Otto's axe severed an artery. It doesn't take long for last of the man's blood to pump out of his body and the light to leave his eyes. She closes them with a bloody hand.

"I'm afraid these two are gone," she says as she stand up. She's covered in blood, like some sort of primal deity of carnage. The note of regret in her voice clashes with her gory appearance.

Otto tries to help with one of the fallen, but quickly botches the job. Thankfully, the bandit expires quickly. "I've no business with the healing, I fear. My hands are for carving, not sewing, it seems." He looks away, regretfully, then gets up from his knees.

Mayhaps we can recover some of the things taken from Emma and Ignacio, eh?", he says, leaning his axe against the large tent's entrance. He finds and sets aside the large man's bow, as if starting a pile for item collection. Otto pulls the tent flap, and begins pulling things from the tent into the light of the campfire. He eyes the tent, itself -- big and sturdy -- could be useful in this wilderness.

This time the fight goes the way Ardan knows it: defense is the best attack. Like a dancer he evades the attacks of his opponent and uses the moment of let down defences to have his blade strike like a viper. Once, but precisely.
Twice he strikes and two of the bandits lie to his feet in a puddle of their own blood. Ready for the next attack, Ardan realises that there are no more bandits coming.
He looks around and the scenery is infernal. Dead or dying bandits lie scattered on the ground, his friends are splattered in blood, impossible to tell whether it's their own or someone else's and the roaring fire let's shadows dance where no more movement should be.
He takes a few moments to process the image before him and then escapes into one of the tents. With alarm he sees another bandit lie in bed, but then realises it is the leader of the pack, with a knife in her throat - Naesala was here before.
He turns aside and starts going through the other contents of the tent to distract himself, avoiding to look at the bed.

The carnage is swift and relatively complete. The man that Naesala elbowed in the back of the head is still in the land of the living, as well as the man Ardasta shield-bashed. Ardasta is also able to fix up one of the men that Ardan downed. He'll be in bad shape and might be at the mercy of the Wilderness for a while, but for the immediate future he'll live.

The dog barks madly. It's understandably upset. It doesn't make any movements to attack or bite, retreating and growling any time that someone gets close.

There's also the bandit's remaining horse, which is spooked.

Now that he's no longer trying to kill you, you get a closer look at the bandit boss. His headdress falls off revealing a human face beneath the wolf headpiece. His face is scarred and unhappy. His skin is tawny and he might be described as conventionally handsome; the scars across his cheeks give him a rugged attractiveness. It's easy to imagine him in a gleaming suit of armor, riding on a horse with his head held high while flocking congregants shower him with flowers. But life lead him here instead, to a death at your hands.

The dog continues to bark and growl.

The dead woman turns out to be a dead elf. Even in death she has an angry expression on her face. She looks more annoyed than scared at the prospect of dying. Her eyes still seem tightly focused rather than staring off in the distance as they often do when mortal coils are shuffled and muscles relax.

You sweep through the camp, finding some rations and some leftovers from a recent hunt. Again, there's relatively little material wealth. You find a great number of skins and animal pelts - pretty much identical to what you saw at the trading post - used for bedding and blankets. You also start collecting weapons and armor:

- 1 mace
- 1 hand axe
- 1 great club
- 1 great sword
- 1 short sword
- 1 spear (light)
- 1 bow (large) with 20 arrows
- 1 bow (small) with 20 arrows
- 5 throwing blades (including the one in the woman's neck)
- 7 daggers
- 1 war robe (the boss')
- 4 linothoraxes
- 3 buff coats
- 3 small shields
- 6 pints of oil
- tents, backpacks, lanterns, waterskins, rations (mostly perishable), cooking utensils, sacks, etc.
- 20sp worth of simple jewelry

Once again there's curiously little material wealth until Adrasta pulls up the furs that the wolfman was sleeping on. She finds some disturbed dirt underneath it. Stabbing the dirt with her spear, she finds that it's soft and gives way easily. Another thrust results in a solid THUNK. Adrasta pulls away the dirt and brings up a small wooden chest about the size of a breadbox.

Opening it she finds coins, although many of the are copper pieces. There are some silver pieces mixed in along with a handful of golden coins. A quick count results in an estimate of 200sp worth of coins.

One golden coin catches her eye because it's hollow in the middle. Looking more closely, she realizes that it's a ring. Holding it up to the light, she finds a simple but pretty piece of jewelry with an inscription on the inner band: "To My Emma, with Love -Ignacio"

The dog barks until it's hoarse.

Adrasta pockets the ring. She could give it back to the couple when they next saw them. She carries the chest out of the tent and puts it down with the rest of the loot. "Found some coin. I'd say about 200. Found our former hosts' wedding ring as well. If we bring them what we don't need, I figure we can return it as well."

She looks at the messy camp, a touch of guilt. As far as she knew, all these bandits had done was extort some property from two upstanding civilians. Did they deserve to die? She shakes her head, packing up the thought and pushing it into a dark corner of her mind where she could forget it. Deserve was a foolish thing to consider in this cruel world.

"Otto, secure the prisoners. Ardan, get the horse and that dog to shut up. Nasesala, you and I can fetch the horses." The orders flow naturally from her. As a medic, she was used to issuing orders after battle when she was with the Phalanx and, reflexively, the aftermath of this fight had brought back that part of her.

She gives the others an embarrassed smile as she realizes how she must have come off. "Erm... If that works for you all."

Otto secures the prisoners. He cuts up his rope into 2-foot segments to secure their wrists and their feet.

Ardan gets the dog to shut up. Actually, within minutes the dog is literally eating out of Ardan's hand and wagging happily. Either the dog doesn't hold a grudge or Ardan is just that charming.

The horse isn't any trickier for Adan. He goes over and coos sweet nothings into its ear and it quickly settles, even nuzzling Ardan. Ardan takes it for a quick walk around the palisade and it follows him freely and easily, responding quickly to his instructions. Ardan judges it to be the finest horse of the lot, likely the wolf-man's personal mount.

While Otto gathers bodies and collects weapons, Adrasta and Naesala venture back into the forest to retrieve the other five horses. Adrasta lights one of the bandit's lanterns so that she can see the way. Naesala has no such difficulties and is able to scan the trees for threats.

They find the horses unharmed and, seemingly, quite happy. If anything they appear disappointed that their walking for the day isn't done yet. After a couple false starts, they grudgingly bear their riders back to the bandit camp. They definitely are easier to manage when Ardan is nearby and in the lead.

The horses are reunited and brought into the palisade, where they fight for Ardan's attention. The dog follows Ardan around, wagging the whole way.

Otto finishes piling the bodies in one of the tents to await their eventual fate. Just then the three bandits still living start to stir, groaning in pain and expressing alarm as they discover their bindings.

Otto notes Ardan's affinity with the animals with some satisfaction. "He'd make a fine wagon-master", he muses, remembering all the times his brother had mentioned unruly horses, and the valuable loads of cargo unceremoniously dumped on the coast road as a result.

If there is one thing that brings out the admiration in Otto, it's quality. Quality woodworking, quality basket-making, quality animal-handling, quality fighting...the 'what' isn't important, so much as how well it's done. His mind wanders from Ardan with the horses to the deftness with which Naesala, Adrasta and Ardan had dispatched...how many was it...seven? Eight? A fine haul of scum, for certain, and Otto is grateful for (and slightly in awe of) the quality of his companions. He counts himself lucky, and sets off to find a useful piece of wood for carving.

While searching for a fallen tree branch, or other sturdy stick with no rot, his face lights up with a fresh idea. Otto rummages through the items of the captives. "Ha!", he exclaims, grabbing the bow of the wolf-headed one. He positions himself by the fire with the bow and his whittling knife. He considers the bow carefully before setting blade to wood. "Must be very careful with this." He could hear his father's words as if just spoken, "Never confuse purpose with decoration. If an item's purpose is lost or damaged in the process of decoration, you've only served to create ugliness. Its purpose IS beauty, and the artist's own overconfidence in his skills can destroy that beauty. This is unforgiveable."

His carving is ever so shallow. Any depth, any deeper cuts, could reduce the strength of the bow. Where does the bow receive its greatest stress, its greatest strain? Where can he work with it, so that the wood will not separate as layers of an onion?

"Tension. A bow works on the tension of wood that refuses to stretch, not on its compression." He decides on the place, a fist's width of the blow's upper limb, just above the grip. He begins the work, not truly carving, but more of a light shaving into the wood until a shadow of a figure begins to appear -- a head of a wolf in the beginnings of a snarl, partially obscured by leaves, as if preparing to burst from the treeline on a moonlit night.

After the animals are calmed, the horses hobbled up within the palisade and the prisoners bound, Ardan stops to take a look around. The apocalyptic shine of the camp vanished and left a dirty and tired group of people. A heavy tiredness falls upon him.
"I propose that we set up watches for the prisoners and who or whatever might be out there and retire for the night. Tomorrow we can see what we can do with the survivors and send word to Ignacio and Emma.

Thelonius wrote:

"I propose that we set up watches for the prisoners and who or whatever might be out there and retire for the night. Tomorrow we can see what we can do with the survivors and send word to Ignacio and Emma."

"Some whittling before sleeping helps settle my nerves. Go ahead and get some rest, but before you do, we may position our guests around the fire so they cannot see each other. It looks like we have enough blankets for them, one for covering them, one for their heads."

Placing the bow carefully on the ground near the fire, Otto rummages through the pile of supplies for blankets. He bundles them, and sets one blanket to the right of each captive so they can put their heads down on something softer than a rock.

"We can talk in the morning, yeah?" he says to each, before checking their bonds for tightness. "Apologies, tonight may not be your most comfortable night in memory" he says, genuinely apologetic. To the last of them, he queries "So what brought you to thieving and strong-arming, eh?", but doesn't tarry for a response.

With the prisoners properly set for the night, Otto checks with his companions, wishes them good rest, and sets about to his whittling. He sits near the fire, with the captives in sight by the glowing embers. He throws another stick or two on the pile for a little more heat, and picks up the bow, axe sitting next to him at his right hand.

The three bandits slowly come to.

The bandit that Ardan stabbed coughs up quite a lot of blood. He wheezes and asks for water. His voice is weak and his strength is feeble. He makes no attempt to fight the bonds. His head lolls to the side and you wonder if he's dead. But, no, it's just his breathing is so shallow you can hardly see it. He whispers that he's cold (likely from blood loss) but you can barely hear him.

The other two bandits seem like opposites. The one that Adrasta pasted with her shield is a bit portly. The one that Adrasta knocked in the back of the head is tall and skinny. He's the same one who noted that something was amiss in the woman's tent.

The portly one whimpers and pleads and generally puts up no resistance whatsoever. The tall and skinny one curses and twists his wrists and has a rather foul mouth.

"Oi, fuckface!" he calls to Otto. "C'mere and lemme out o' these and I'll smack yer gob! How tall are ye? I didn't know they stacked shite that high! Don't mind me; I'm chuffed as nuts down here. Knackered are ye? Gassed after ye responded to me thieving and strong-arming with a WEE BIT O MURDER? Well, knees up, lad! Knees up, you great git."

He sees the dog following around Ardan obediently. "OI! THAT'S ME DAG! What cheek! Didja come here to STEAL ME DAG?! Would you like a cuppa too? Oi, I'd git the kettle on for Yer Highness but I can't be arsed at the moment." He grunts as he tries to stand but it's no use; Otto has his wrists and ankles tied tightly.

This prattle keeps up for quite a bit. You get the sense that if this guy isn't going to get any sleep tonight then neither will you.

Naesala approaches the garrulous fiend and crouches in front of him, seizing his jaw before he can think to spit at her, or subject her to more of his outbursts. "You live now by our graces and nothing more. It would be a simple thing to dislodge your jaw, remove your tongue, or snatch away the thin thread of life you now cling to. These woods are lawless by your own design, yet you have found the good fortune to fall prey to ones that hold firm to the tenets of mercy and principle; why would you seek to test us so, knowing well of what we are capable?"
She releases his jaw so delicately to could be taken as a threat to one who knows her unarmed capabilities. "Speak what you will, but choose your words and your manner with care."

Otto watches Naesala walk away after her little 'talk' with the captive. He reaches out with the bow and lightly pokes him in the back.

"Good thinking, mate. If you make her really angry, you won't have to worry about waking up in the morning. I have an idea -- keep yapping all night, disturbing everyone's sleep. That will have them in the best of moods when food is given out, too. No worries, mate. Somebody has to get the fresh bread, somebody has to get the piece with maggots..."

Otto goes back to the bow, keeping a little more of an eye on 'The Mouth', as he's come to name the bandit.

The obnoxious bandit grumbles under his breath but quiets down.

An order is set for the night watch. Otto will watch first while the others get some rest.

All in all, it's been an exhausting day. Two fights for Otto and Naesala, three for Ardan and Adrasta, all full of mortal danger. There were long rides on horseback for backsides not familiar with the experience. Now it's late and the adrenaline is winding down. Sleep comes easily.

Otto becomes lost in his carving. It relaxes his mind but also distracts it. The first notion that anything is wrong is a different smell coming from the fire. Otto finishes the flourish that he's working on then stands up to investigate. The Mouth has taken advantage of Otto's distraction and used the opportunity to burn through his bindings! The burnt ends of the rope that bound the man's wrists and feet are left at the edge of the fire where they continue to smolder and smell funny.

Otto spins around, momentarily panicked that the man is busy assassinating the others. He spots The Mouth on horseback, which is strange because the palisade gate is shut. What's he playing at? It becomes obvious when the man stands up on the saddle and, with a low laugh to himself, gets ready to leap over the palisade spikes.

"Oh, holy mother of hairy-assed women..." Otto mutters to himself, as he realizes what this lunatic is trying to do.

He grabs the frying pan sitting near the fire, rears back, and sends the pan sailing through the air. It hits The Mouth right below his ribcage with an audible *whump*, just as he started his leap to the palisade. The bandit's arms flail wildly as his leap goes awry, and with a sickening *squilch*, lands chest-first on top of the sharpened palisade wall.

He dangles there like some twisted meat-puppet.

Otto retrieves the cooking pan, sets it back down near the fire, and resumes his work on the handle of the bow, somewhat annoyed by the interruption. He just couldn't get the shadow effect with the leaves quite right, but...he looks up to the now-decorated palisade, at the shadows cast by the newly-perforated man hanging against the wall in the dim firelight. "Yes, that's it, use the curve of the handle like the curve of the palisade stake...", and with a few nibs of the blade's tip and a quick press with the flat, the wolf in the carving comes into stark relief.

Otto silently thanks the dead bandit for that little inspiration, then wakes the next watch.

Adrasta is reluctantly pulled from her dreams by Otto. She grumpily drags herself out of the tent she had claimed. "I hate watch duty," she mutters as she laces up her boots.

She makes her way towards the campfire, then stops when she notices that there are only two bandits lying next to it. "Aren't we short a..." she pauses when she sees the dead body resting atop the palisade. She frowns in annoyance. It wouldn't be easy to get it down from there without it splitting in two. She sighs. He probably would have lived he hadn't tried to escape...

She puts her fists on her hips and raises an eyebrow at Otto. "Palisade too high for your throwing arm? Try spinning him around the next time. Build some momentum before letting go."

moarhair wrote:

"Palisade too high for your throwing arm? Try spinning him around the next time. Build some momentum before letting go."

"You would have been amused. He tried a swan dive from the back of the horse, made awkward by the impack of the frying pan in his ribs. Ultimately, he had the height, but didn't quite have the distance", he says with a shrug.

"A fine effort, but came up a little short. Did receive a 10-point-oh from the Russian judge." Otto had no idea what that last bit meant, but he'd been told it was a joke, the meaning of which had been lost over the generations.

"I didn't want to wake the camp with clean-up, but it should be easier in the morning, anyway. Once he's had a little time to stiffen, we can just push up on his feet and pitch him over the fence."

And with that practical yet macabre solution, Otto sets the bow back on the pile, heads into a tent, and collapses in exhaustion.

<<Morning - Day 2 - Early Spring - Bandit Camp - Wilderness>>

The night passes without any more murders, intentional or accidental. No monsters emerge from the darkness to claim the corpses. If anything, it's the opposite: it's a remarkably peaceful night, pleasant even. Birds start singing before sunrise.

The morning breaks grey, cloudy, and cool. The overnight lows don't dip down to freezing but they're not far about it either. The layers of furs on top of you feel good. It's understandable why the bandits would want those from Ignacio and Emma, especially over the last few winter months.

The bandits have a reasonable supply of firewood that's been collected from the forest all around. It's easy to add some to the fire and get it roaring to warm up camp and to cook breakfast. The bandits have a pot of stew that's been simmering all night, or you can dip into your own rations.

You get a better look at things in the daylight. Otto judges the construction of the palisade to be competent. Not above improvement, but acceptable. Sturdy enough to skewer The Mouth, at least. The stream provides a ready source of clean water. It's not deep enough to be navigable but nor is it deep enough to be a barrier to crossing. All in all, it's a convenient supply of fresh water.

The bandit that Ardan stabbed and Adrasta saved is in bad shape. He's very frail and will need care for at least a week if he is to survive. He offers no resistance, mostly because he's physically incapable of any.

The other bandit, the portly one, cowers. He whimpers and recoils every time you walk by. Upon review, you find that he has a spectacular view of The Mouth's corpse. He must have concluded - not unreasonably - that the bandit was intentionally impaled there and that his own fate might be the same.

You ask his name. "Ned... Ned... Nedry," he gasps while turning white with fear. It's unclear if he's stammering out of panic or if Nedry is his full name and Ned is his nickname.

Otto busies himself with cooking in the cold morning air, and catches Nedry glancing at the tall bandit dangling from the top of the palisade. "Oh, sorry, meant to do something about that. It looks worse than it is, really. He tried to escape by jumping from the back of the horse. I threw a frying pan at him, and he fell onto the fence, poor lad..."

With that, he offers the bandit, who doesn't seem to be particularly bandit-like, a tin of stew.

"Would somebody mind tending to these boys, while I go dig a hole for ol' Bob hanging from yon fence?" he calls to no one in particular. Making sure that the portly bandit has nothing dangerous within reach, Otto sets to untying his hands so he can eat, and get a little relief from his bonds.

He grabs a shovel from the bandits' supply pile, and walks over to ol' Bob hanging from the fence. As expected, his legs are stiff as a board. Otto interlocks his fingers to make a stirrup, puts his hands under ol' Bob's feet, and gives one heave. The bandit's chest dislodges from the fence's pointed top, and Otto's lifting topples the tall bandit's body over the fence. He picks up the spade and his axe, moves the palisade gate, and steps outside to dig a hole.

The night had been too short, but at least Ardan was rewarded with the last watch waiting for sunrise. The air had been fresh and clear, it could have been a pleasant morning. Alas, Otto had managed to ruin it before it started with the impaled bandit dangling over their heads. At this rate they'd run out of prisoners fast.

After a quick breakfast of stew Ardan tends to the horses and the prisoners. He helps them get food and water and escorts them one by one to give them a chance to relieve themselves.

When the group eventually gathers together again he says "So, the bandit issue has been addressed, now what? We should bring Emma and Ignacio what's rightfully theirs and then?
This is a nice camp, but no place to retire. I say we continue our way."

Thelonius wrote:

"So, the bandit issue has been addressed, now what? We should bring Emma and Ignacio what's rightfully theirs and then?
This is a nice camp, but no place to retire. I say we continue our way."

"Mayhaps our bandit friends can tell us more of these lands before we travel. One bandit issue not yet addressed is what to do with them. I'm satisfied that we can leave them here for the day. Otherwise, we'd give up our mounts to the injured, slowing us down. Leave them here with some food, I say. How does that sit with you? It will be good to return their belongings to Emma and Ignatio."

Otto starts loading up the horses, starting with the draft horse.

Once she's done with her breakfast, Adrasta makes her way to the injured bandit and focuses her energy. She squats next to him, then lays her glowing hands on his neck, where Ardan's sword went it, and magically stitches up the bandit's wound. Never heal a prisoner in the evening, her master used to say, they'll only try escape. Besides, they'll be more thankful for the relief if they've had time to suffer. It was dark and cynical, cruel even, but experience had shown its wisdom.

She smiles at the bandit and offers him some water. "You should start feeling better now. Don't rush to move, though. Take your time."

She stands back up and listens to her comrades exchange. She smirks at Ardan. "I didn't think you'd be so quick to ditch a fortified position after our last encounter with the local wildlife. I'm all for exploring, I didn't come to the Wilderness to stop in a place like this, but it might be nice to have a wall to sleep behind. Might be worth spending a day or two cleaning this place up to use as a forward camp. Our former hosts can wait a couple of days."

She looks at the tent where they stacked the dead. "The cool night did us a favor, but it won't hold up for long. The smell will soon be impossible to ignore."

"As for what to do with the couple we got here? Well, that depends on how helpful they are," she says with a dark grin.

She looks down at Nedry. "I have a few questions for you. And don't think about lying, the elf can tell. Are there any other bandits from your band out there? What would the ones that were here prefer: burial or pyre? What's around here?"

The bandit reacts with a start at Adrasta's sudden healing. He looks like he's about to jump to his feet before Adrasta stops him and counsels him not to move. His eyes spin around, as if he's just woken up from an extremely realistic dream, or as if he's never seen the world before. He lays back down and studies Adrasta with a mixture of wariness and curiosity.

Despite her effort on behalf of his companion, Nedry looks terrified of Adrasta. He looks terrified of everyone. Maybe he's just terrified in general. He's not that old - maybe late teens or early twenties - and his black facial hair is somehow both shaggy and scrawny. He shakes his head to refuse the notion that he would lie to you.

"More bandits?" he asks, then nods. "Yes, yes, four more! But, oh..." He suddenly notices what horses are in the palisade with you, then comes to a conclusion about where you got them. "No, no, it appears there aren't any more..."

Adrasta brings his attention to the bandits stacked up like cordwood. "P... py... pyre!" he finally stammers out. "Animals will dig up the buried, unless you go six feet down or more. We have to hurry, before the griffins catch scent..." His body language edges away from the stack of corpses, as if the griffins might start swooping down at any moment. But then he comes to a realization. "But you have to burn the bodies quickly. If you go slowly, the griffins will catch the scent. It will smell like roasting meat to them. It must be quick, intense: lots of wood, lots of oil."

The question about what's around here seems to confuse him, or he doesn't seem sure how best to answer. He just starts blabbering.

"Um, some fish in the stream. Little ones now, big ones later in the year. Miners to the east, in the mountains. I hear there are fisherfolk along the sea and the bigger lakes and rivers. Small communities to the north. Sometime religious cults, sometimes convicts, penal colonies. Folks who were ostracized here. Ratmen, nasty little creatures." He tries to spit, although his mouth is so dry that nothing comes. "Trolls, big brutes. Animals, lots of animals. Herbivores, carnivores. The undead. Spirits, specters, especially at night. Mages studying ruins. Wells with no bottom, drums in the deep."

You get the sense that he'll just keep blathering on, hoping that as long as he's talking you won't start killing him. There's no way to tell how reliable any of this report is, although from his vocabulary you judge that Nedry's had a bit of education. He doesn't seem like he's from around here, if only because it's difficult to get so portly off a diet of rabbit stew and fish. So are these things that he's seen for himself, or stories he's heard from others?

Otto, from outside the palisade, hears some of the conversation and calls back. "Griffons? Did somebody say griffons?" His question hangs in the air for a moment. "What's a griffon? And does this mean we can skip the hole and commence with the firewood?"

The group hears the shuffling of feet before Otto's face appears in the slightly-opened gate. "If we need to make a fire, we best get busy...", he suggests, eyeing the pile of firewood in the palisade.

"Griffins," Nedry nods repeatedly. "They fly. Body of a beast but with talons and beak like a bird. They swoop in from the sky with a shriek and a cry. They smell the dead, but they'll take a man or a horse just as surely. They shake the ground when they land. Your best bet is to curl up in a ball next to the palisade wall, hope the spikes keep them at bay.

"Sages say they have golden nuggets in their nests. No one knows if they put them there or if they lay them there via their cloaca, like a hen laying an egg."

Naesala leans in to Adrasta as the bandit blathers on, talking softly.
"I have heard tell of griffons before, but never lain eyes upon one. It seems these lands truly hold as much wonder as promised, assuming the shaenir speaks true."

The medic recognises the Recurrent word the elf uses as synonymous with "whelp" or "greenhorn", a term used by the elves to connote both physical youth and a woeful lack of practical skills; it's one of Naesala's favourites when speaking of most humans. There is also a clear degree of cynicism in her gracious tone, as if she doesn't believe that there are secret ratmen warrens and wandering dead hidden behind every tree and that those who believe in such ghost stories to explain away the unknown are a the types to become gormless bandits. "A great assumption indeed."

Ardan follows the conversation with some interest. Once the question of the next steps and the fate of the prisoners arises he adds
"I still believe we should pay Emma and Ignacio a visit. They deserve to know we're alright and that the threat is gone. Plus we need to return their things.
After that... Well, I left, to get away from some interested parties in San Rouben. Now that I did, I'm kind of unsure, where I'm headed. Normally I'd find the next city and see what I could set up there. But, what are your thoughts?

Regarding these guys, I'd say let them go. We wanted to make sure they don't attack anybody in the area anymore, two of them are no threat anymore. And I figure they learned that doing bad things to others will come back and haunt you."

Ardan's voice carries over the fence where Otto continues his digging.

"Agreed, my friend, I have no interest in prisoners, and them mending their ways seems a better choice than dying out in the woods with their bandit chums. Did ye find out from whence they came, and how they fell in with such a lot as these lads? And what about these two exceptional individuals who seemed to be leading them? Do they have any odd markings about their bodies, or anything of the sort?"

The sound of further shoveling can be heard from outside the spiked wall.

"And if these gents could be bothered, send them out with shovels to finish the digging. The morning gets away from us, we should already be on our way."

Adrasta looks up. "You can stop digging, Otto. They said a pyre would be better."

She squats next to Nedry and looks him in the eyes. "Try to hurt any of us, and you'll end up on that pyre yourself, understand?" He nods emphatically. "Good." She starts untying his bonds.

"Ratmen, griffons, and all that other stuff. Which have you seen yourself? I've heard all sorts of tales from all sorts of people." She smiles at him ruefully. "I've learned not to put too much stock in them."

Once he's free, she stands back up and offers him her hand to help him get on his feet. "How did you end up in this place. You don't seem the bandit type," she says as she jabs a finger at his ample belly.

Nedry nods emphatically, swearing he would never hurt any of you.

"Ratmen, yes," he nods. "Vile little creatures. Nasty, brutish, short. About yea high" - he holds his hand up to his waist - "and ill-tempered. Clever little beasties, but disgusting and disreputable. Avoid."

He nods about the griffin too. "They're opportunistic. They'll scavenge when they can and will hunt when they need to. They fly so high that arrows can't reach them. Then they SWOOP down at amazing speeds. The impact will break your back. If it doesn't, they'll finish you off with break and talons. Remarkable creatures, but better admired at a safe distance."

His eyes get a little sad at the questions of where he comes from. "From the south," he says. "South of the Wall, that is. My family disowned me, ostracized me. I had to strike out on my own." He looks around the camp. "You look for protection wherever you can find it," he admits. "I'm not enough of a warrior to make it on my own."

Otto implies that you should be on your way, as the day progresses.

"You're leaving?!" Nedry squawks, his face confused. He can't tell if this is a very good thing or a very bad thing.

He gets to his feet. His rumbling mass could maybe bowl someone over if he managed to work up a head of steam, but it's clear he's no athlete and probably not much of a warrior.

"You can't leave us here!" he insists, grabbing whoever is most convenient. "It's dangerous! We'll die! As sure as if you cut our throats here and now! Except that it will probably be a slow, lingering death rather than a quick, clean death! Something will eat us alive! Or suck our souls out! Or, worse, we'll starve!"

His eyes are wild. Whether this is true or not you don't know, but it's clear that he believes it.

"You have to take us with you! Give us our weapons back to defends ourselves!" His eyes scan the skies in a panic, as if death might swoop in at any moment.

Tecumseh wrote:

"You're leaving?! You can't leave us here!"

"Actually we can and we will, if you don't get crackin' on that pyre, boys. Yer welcome to come along, we have no interest in leaving people to die in the wilderness, but yer whining and yer not working on the pyre is starting to piss me off. If you don't want to be left here, get busy. Get those first branches lit before gathering the rest. Start building the heat, eh?"

His tone is neither angry nor hurried, simply matter-of-fact. Right now, Nedry and his bandit friend are keeping Otto from his plans. The annoyance is unwelcome, but he prefers the annoyance to the unfortunate and bloody end of the tall bandit the night before.

"The food is going with us. If you want any of it, you'd best be ready to go once the packing is complete, eh? You're welcome to eat along the way."

Otto makes sure the former(?) bandits get to work before packing the weapons, tools, and tents onto the draft horse. "Those boys don't need to see where those weapons are stored" he thinks to himself, before covering them with blankets and a tent.

Nedry nods readily, seeming to grasp Otto's offer like a lifeline.

"Yes, yes, right away! Um, sir!"

He says something to his companion in Modern Vothian. The other man creaks to his feet, rather uncertainly, but follows Nedry's instructions.

Nedry goes about constructing the pyre. He's very deliberate about it, almost scientific. He and his companions start dragging bodies over to it. You note that the refrain from looking at the elf as they do so. They're actually unable to carry the wolf-man by themselves and look sheepishly to Otto for help.

"What's the big deal about this one? Leader? Crazy? Special powers?" Otto asks, pointing to the dead elf. He grabs the feet of the wolf-man like the handles of a wheelbarrow, and drags the body backwards to the pyre.

He's glad for the cooperation, not that he minds the work, but he'd rather not concern himself with what they might be doing when he isn't watching them closely.

"Her?" Otto asks of the elf. "She was like the lieutenant, I suppose you would say. Second-in-command. Very competent.

"An excellent markswoman, she could nail a chukar midflight. Chukars hide near steep stone cliffs and, when flushed, dive straight downhill, buzzing along with the contours of the land. In case you've never tried to shoot a bird zig-zagging downhill and away from you at a high rate of speed, let me assure you that it's extremely difficult."

Nedry gives a jolly laugh. His mood seems to be improving now that the prospect of starvation seems to have been postponed.

He continues: "Very quiet, she could sneak up on a mountain lion. And she had senses like a hawk. Elves see in the dark, you know. I never thought someone could sneak up on her."

He casts a nervous glance at Naesala.

"I guess it takes an elf to beat an elf."

The pyre is coming along nicely. Nedry seems to have a sense of what he's doing. He builds the pyre to face, end-on, into the wind. He stacks the wood in layers, alternating the orientation layer by layer to give it stability. It ends up about three feet high. He adds a fuel load of smaller bits of wood in the center of the pyre, keeping the spread of fuel as symmetrical as he can so that the fire doesn't burn lopsided. Nedry explains that a lopsided burn could collapse the pyre prematurely, and perhaps even displace the body. Then he adds oil, splashing it around liberally to expedite the burn. He steps back, admires the effort, then signals that it's ready to go.

Otto drags the bodies to the pyre. He releases the feet of the last body, and turns to look at the pyre.

"This Nedry pays much atttention to detail...", Otto begrudgingly admits to himself. He nods at Nedry, and for reasons unknown to Ned, he picks up a narrow log about four or 5 inches thick, pulls out has hand axe, and with a series of cuts, severs a disk less than an inch thick. Otto ignores Nedry's questioning looks, and pockets the disk. Whatever intent he has will remain a mystery to Nedry.

"Let's make it warm, eh?", as Otto gestures to Nedry to light the fire.

Nedry leaves a trail of oil to his position. He uses a tinder box to create a spark. The trail of flame ignites and the pyre ERUPTS in rapid flames. Nedry looks pleased with himself.

The smell is ... not great. You're ready to go. Like, now. Luckily the winds are blowing west-to-east so walking south won't be walking downwind.

While Otto and the bandits prepare the pyre, Adrasta goes around the camp making sure they didn't miss anything. From time to time, she catches glimpses of Nedry working and can't help but be impressed. He clearly knows what he's doing, his methods betraying the fact that he must have had some amount of schooling or mentorship.

Once the pyre is lit, she goes to stand next to him as he admires his work. "Have you considered a career in funerals?"

She looks him up and down. "Why did your family disown you?"

Nedry laughs nervously, unsure if Adrasta is making fun of him or not. Or, worse, threatening him somehow. Is he going to responsible for disposing of all her kills? Or is the end of his life nigh?

The journey back to the trading post begins. There are six horses and six people, but the draft horse is carrying all your stuff so... the bandit boys get to walk. Nedry looks like he could use the exercise anyway.

He huffs and puffs a bit while Adrasta asks him why his family disowned him. An astute observer might notice a flash of pain or discomfort cross his face. He tries to hide the wince with a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes.

"My parents didn't think much of me as their heir," he finally admits. "I mean, look at me. I don't exactly cut a dashing figure, do I?" This is true. In addition to his pudge, he has a lamentable bowl-cut haircut and unkempt facial hair that most closely resembles two fuzzy pork chops slapped on his face.

He huffs and puffs some more, his lack of physical conditioning showing.

"So my brother got the nod. He's dynamic, a good speaker, a good warrior, a good athlete. I think my parents are, ah, more confident that he can sire an heir." Nedry gives an embarrassed smile that has more than a hint of shame.

"My brother and I get on pretty well, actually," he says, brightening a bit. "I just have to, ah, outlive my parents, and then maybe I can return home. Be a trusted advisor, wise in the ways of the world, eh?" He gives a brave smile that betrays the fact that his life expectancy in the Wilderness is closer to days or weeks rather than years.

As everybody gets ready, Ardan gets the wolfheads horse ready for himself. It is a bit nervous and doesn't let everybody close, the events of the night before still too fresh memories. Ardan calms the horse again and again. "What's your name, eh? You won't tell me. I will just call you Wolf." he smiles.
His things are packed quickly, his spartanic lifestyle lets him live off what's on his shoulders and what he talks away from the people around.
For the most part of his life, he simply didn't have more, but now he appreciates living light. Less to carry, less to lose.
Once Wolf is ready and packed he calls out to the others. "Let's go, or we'll grow roots." His big smiles feigns enthusiasm and readiness for adventure, but it is mostly to hide his desperate wish to leave this place. This place of lawlessness, murder and the pyre. He glances over to the fire and shudders.

Otto rides behind the two former bandits, keeping an eye on them. After digging the wooden disk out of his pouch, along with his whittling knife, he shaves off the bark and smooths the disk. It's tricky on horseback. The slow pace means a lot of motion in the saddle, but he's not doing any detail work, just rough-cutting. One sliver and two cuts on his knuckles later, Otto manages to make his smooth, round disk -- a fine tablet for what comes later.

He calls to Nedry out front, remembering some of what he'd heard earlier. "Nedry, how do you propose getting your respectability back with yer family? Banditry seems like an odd way to go about it, yeah? Did you have other plans?"

He tucks the disk and the blade back into his pouch, and listens for Nedry's response to see if it rings true. Should he listen to the former bandit? He's unsure, but Nedry seems too out-of-place in that band of misfits. It doesn't make sense, and Otto seems determined to wrestle it until it does.

Nedry chuckles nervously, not sure where Otto is going with this line of questioning.

"With my family?" he asks. "I think that ship has sailed. Maybe if I conquered a kingdom, or even a profitable piece of land, they'd have me back. Sired a few heirs, led a company of knights into battle, that sort of thing." He laughs nervously again.

"It wasn't so much about banditry, was it? It's just survival, right? Just keep breathing. If I just keep breathing, just keep eating, just keep sleeping, maybe one day I'll outlive my ma and pa. And then, if my brother can find me, maybe then I can go back."

As you continue to walk, it becomes clear that Nedry doesn't have any other plans. It's not that he's unintelligent; he just needs a patron to guide him and - most importantly - protect him from the dangers of the world.

Otto looks down from his position on horseback at Nedry, but nods to the quiet man walking with him.

"How about this man? What can you tell us of him? Name, home.....err....situation, as it were."

Some time has passed, since late evening of the night before, and no one has spoken a work to or about this man. Otto finds this odd, even for a company of strangers. He calls the company to a halt, and dismounts. He unslings his water skin, takes a draw from it, and offers it to the silent man.

There's something not proper about being in someone's company, and remaining strangers, regardless of how you've met. Otto is no courtier, but there are rules about being civilized, even in the wilderness.

"Oh, him?" Nedry asks, even though it's clear that Otto is indicating the mute bandit.

"He's normally more talkative than this. I think a sword in his lung left an impression on him.

"He's usually an agnostic, a bit of a blasphemer even. But overnight, when he was under, he was whispering deliriously. Said there were dark shapes coming for him, silhouettes and shadows the size of a man but pitch black. Malevolent. It wasn't until she" - he indicates Adrasta - "brought him back this morning that he finally settled down."

Nedry shrugs.

"Could have been the fever."

Otto dismounts and offers the man water. He accepts it readily and drinks as if dehydrated. There's a sheen of sweat on him that suggests that perhaps he is.

"More of you classic bandit-type, he is," Nedry continues. "Uncivilized, recognizes no laws but the laws of nature. No god or man above him - politically, I mean, or religiously... he respects martial leadership - the sort that the Wilderness attracts."

It's a pleasant spot to rest. You've found a wide-open field in the middle of the forest. It's about a hundred meters to the treeline in any direction. It is green and lush and blooming with springtime flowers. The sun is shining down, warm but not hot. It's rather idyllic.

The break complete, Otto gets back on his horse.

Then, Naesala hears it it first: a rustling along the treeline. It's not long before everyone can feel the vibrations and hear the tree branches snapping and being pushed out of the way. A giant animal emerges, a lumbering horned beast looking like a cross between a rhinoceros and a triceratops. It doesn't look pleased to see you.

It stamps and snorts and generally puts on a territorial display. It seems quite belligerent, like it's looking for a fight. Then it charges at a speed that belies its size, the earth rumbling as it barrels down on you!

As the beast starts stampeding, Ardan reacts fast. He turns Wolf towards the beast, lifts his body straight and waves his arms, then, when he is half way between the group and the beast, he turns his horse to the side and rides away, hoping to have caught the beasts attention and drawing it away from the group. "Ride away guys, I'll try to lose this one elsewhere. Just move calmly so you don't catch its attention again. "

"Keratas..." Adrasta mutters the Brass Speech word when the beast emerges into the clearing. She had heard tales of the great horned animals and seen drawings in books during her travels. She frowns as she struggles to recall what she had read. They were highly territorial herbivores that could easily kill someone by trampling or goring them. If they retreated, it would probably lose interest.

Before Adrasta can relay any of that, Ardan drives his horse into a gallop, trying to draw the beast's attention. The keratas doesn't take the bait however, and continues to charge towards the rest of the group.

"Scatter!" she bellows, before leading her horse away from the group, driving her heels into its flank to get it to speed up.

The beast charges at the group. Ardan rides out to distract it. The beast almost bites at the bait - it snorts angrily and maybe takes a half-step toward Ardan - but ultimately keeps running forward.

The little head-fake gives Naesala and Ardan some clues: the beast doesn't have a lot of lateral mobility. It's quite fast in straight lines, but anyone on a nimble horse (who knows how to command the horse) should be able to elude it.

Unfortunately that leaves out Nedry and the nameless bandit. Nedry blanches and turns and runs (well, waddles) away at the greatest speed which his legs can manage. His speed is not great. He's following his instinct, which is to run directly away from the beast, but unfortunately that means that he's still in its path.

The nameless bandit doesn't understand what Adrasta says, so he follows Nedry. Except that the nameless bandit is quite a bit leaner and more nimble, meaning that he easily outpaces Nedry, who quickly falls behind.

"Straight for the treeline!" yells Otto, right behind Nedry and the other bandit. Astride his horse, he does anything but follow his own advice, zig-zagging behind the two, trying to obscure them from the beast's view.

He hates his own plan, but leaving the two behind to die sits poorly with him.

He keeps zig-zagging, each time obscuring the line of sight to the bandits, while moving slightly more to the right of the bandits' path. Hoping to lead the beast that way, Otto and his horse present the biggest target. If the beast takes the bait, he Otto hopes his horse can out-pace the horned monster to the trees. His heart thumps in his chest, as if trying to escape.