[Pathfinder] Journeys.

[cn3wton]

Bacon and Flo continue the charade throughout most of the day. Slowly making their way back to their temporary home. Once they arrive Bacon begins to cook. The smell of food quickly reminds them of their hunger, and after waiting a respectable amount of time for their friends to return they dig in.

After their stomachs have long settled and their companions had yet to return they choose to pursue the men's invitation to meet with them at the Preadorion camp. They gather themselves quickly and set out.

As it grows late the shanties and haphazard construction take on a menacing air. The pair find themselves being overly cautious. Imagining that each shadow filled alley holds a crossbow aimed at their hearts. They make haste in an effort to avoid any unpleasantness.

After what seems a long journey they find themselves at the Preadorion camp on the northern outskirts. Their members unmistakingly garbed in a large variety of colors. Each different from the next, but somehow recognizable as a unit.

A wooden barricade encircles the entire camp, tops filed to sharp edges. A ditch filled with stakes topped with molten metal acts as the first line of defense. A single draw bridge lies across it on each side. Two men stand at its end with torches behind them. A tactical strategy so that any who approached would be blinded, while the sentries eyes remain accustomed to the dark. Men stand atop the wall paced out evenly.

While small the camp seems more fortified than the entire city. It appears ready for attack. From any side.

As they approach the two figures motion them through as if they had been expected. They enter cautiously under the gaze of nearly a dozen men. Once inside they marvel at its simplicity. Tents and buildings lie neatly organized throughout. Tents covered with small wooden canopies to prevent arrows from striking them unawares. Barrels of water lie dispered throughout to prevent any fires from spreading. Men and woman group together around fires, sharing drink and food. Gambling and other games are played. The mood is positive, but all seem on edge and alert.

Just as they begin to wonder how they will possibly find the men from earlier they appear. They wear a bit more relaxed clothing, though this still seems to require leather armor and weapons.

It is obvious that a messenger had told them of bacon and flos visit. The camp seemed to be a marvel of efficiency.

"Good to see you, a good opportunity to finish that drink we had begun." He looks to Flo "I am pleased that you are to join us as well. You are both my guests here and shall eat and drink your fill." He smiled and begins to lead them through the center of camp towards the northern perimeter. On their way they pass a massive catapult. Finely carved and decked with numerous banners of varying colors. Metal seemed to be cast upon it in areas that may come to harm. A truly impressive piece, almost like art. A few smaller machines flank it. All ready to rain hell down on any who sought to attack.

Once near the northern edge they come upon a large covered area. At its center a large statue. Upon closer inspection it can be seen that the statue is actually a chair, and a figure sits upon it, staring through the opened gate. The most likely point of attack on the city.

The statue is of a woman. Her race indistinguishable, either by design of a masterful artist or time. In one hand she holds a sword the other a scale. But unlike similar works she does not hold the scale so the weights lie even thanks to gravity. Instead she holds it by the cross beam. Turning her hand so that the plate holding only a few coin rests even with one stacked to the limits.

An obvious message.

The figure remains seated facing away from them, and the man motions for them to sit at a table, already filled with foods and drink. The group, now 5 strong sits and begins to eat and drink. Sharing stories. The men are brothers, known as the Harrik brothers. The eldest Aard, seems to be their superior. As the food begins to dwindle the seated figure rises, turns, then approaches the table.

He is a large orc, with hair and beard streaked with silver. He nods to the group and takes a seat at the head. He quickly pours himself a drink.

"Welcome to my camp. Aard speaks highly of you. Says you rushed to this one's aid despite the dangers lying around every turn in this place. I am Gronn. I will speak bluntly, what exactly are you doing here. Your early display quite gave you away. I would have the truth only."


Broan and oramac sit to eat. Oramac deftly thumbs through the pages of the journal hoping to find some last gem of wisdom from his friend. Though as he expected the majority of the useful information cleverly concealed in what appeared to be ordinary pondering in a merchants hand. It would take him some time to decipher it, if he could at all.

Almost when he had given up hope he noticed something odd about the back cover of the journal. He gently tugged at the leather stitching and it gave way. A note was inside.

Oramac,

I have penned this note numerous times before, and I hope that this one too shall meet its end in the fire like all the rest.

Moreso I hope that they will soon prove unecessary. That I find the courage to give voice to that which I have so often drafted.

I often think about our first meeting, and our preceding adventures. We have shared much, but my past is a water I rarely dare to tread. For it is dark and I fear that I will be sucked beneath it's waters, once again losing myself in the darkness.

A darkness you helped to lift. The subject of my family is one I have often avoided, but I would not leave it to mystery if something where to happen to me.

I once served in one of the greatest Dwarven armies, and had the honour of leading them in fact. With a life long friend, the heir to the great southern kingdom of Duhn, which now lies in ruin.

After a long campaign I returned home to find my family slaughtered, my friend and his guard standing above them with blades wet with their blood. I attacked in a frenzy, and ended up being mortally wounded. I'll never forget their faces as they left me there to die. As I literally held myself together I crawled hoping beyond hope that my family still lived. That I could save them.

It was not so, and it was there Arthur found me, on the brink of death. You see my friend had been long dead, controlled by the forces that now threaten the entirety of this world. It spread like a sickness through the populace. And now nothing is left of my home.

I tell you this not for your pity, but for the simple plea that you do kot let this evil change you as it did me. I have reflected on my actions since that day often over the past weeks. And I cannot help but wonder where I lost my way. When was it that the man I once was ceased to be?

Surely I sought to fight this evil, but was it solely for my own desire for revenge? Perhaps what troubles me more than anything, is that I cannot find an honest answer to these questions.

If you are reading this it is likely that I am dead. And I must apologize for not having the strength to discuss this with you in person.

Your friend,
Varren.

After reading the note and finishing their meal, the pair make their way to the militants camp. Located just to the east of the main city it is in commotion and dissarray. Tents erected haphazardly, no noticeable guards are stationed, and despite the time many seem indesposed by drink.

They are quickly recognized and many cheer and drunkenly raise glasses to them. As they make their way to the camps center their is some semblance of order, and a large tent rests upon a rickety wooden platform.

Guards stand around its perimeter, though they seem incapable of deterring any real threat. Upon seeing them one quickly dissappear inside, returning with a young elf. He puts on a fake smile and invites the two men in. They agree but remain on guard.

As they enter they see a large roughly carved table surrounded by what appear to be leaders of numerous races arguing about everything from strategy to proposed dress code.

One man, upon seeing the two men enter calls for silence. He is a giant, standing nearly twice the height of all in attendence. He seems ancient, with numerous scars and a leg in a makeshift brace giving him an awkward gait.

"Leave us." As the figures begin to leave some thank the pair, though many seem to resent being sent away in such a manner. Once the last leaves the giant motions for them to sit.

"You are quite the oddity. Humans taking down a Dwarven spy whow serves a ruler of a human only kingdom. A story one would find hard to believe in other circumstances. Though the dreads techniques leave much to be desired it has not lessened your popularity among those loyal to the cause. Of course most would gladly stick a knife in your back given the chance, and I have a tendency to agree. Most all of us have our own reason for hating your people, and many don't like people reminding us that not all humans are like the dreads..." He pours himself a drink, takes a drink and massages a cramp in his leg. "But in honesty a war now would mean heavy losses. The Men And Woman Here Are Are children. Drawn by old tales and ballads of heroic deeds. I would have them tempered a bit before battle. Perhaps you can aid us in this regard. I would have you think on it. It grows late, and I fear that your safety cannot be gaurenteed as the light fades. I would speak with you again tomorrow.

They exit the camp just as the sun begins to rest behind the mountains. As they near their temporary home they sense something wrong. The streets lie empty and quite. A few more paces and half a dozen figures step out from the shadows before them, while 4 flank from behind.

A man in front of them steps forward. They instantly recognize him as the torturer from earlier. He had a sick pallor to his skin and seemed to walk with a limp. He smiled. "Knew I'd find you. You aint as sneaky as you think. Some boys here caught on real quick."

Oramac sees the cat just behind the man. He looks to the cat then the man. Seeing this the man smiles and draws his daggers from his belt. He quickly stabs them into the man at his left. The confusion allows Broan and Oramac to draw aND enter the fray. Oramac and the man work together to bring down those in the front. While Broan single handedly deals with the rear. None are left standing.

The torturer seems uneasy on his feet and grasps for a vial around his neck. He quickly drinks and his form begins to shift.

Shortly after Varren stands before them. One eye now missing, most of the fingers on his right hand crudely severed. And his left foot and leg seems to have taken quite a few blows.

"About time I found ya, though I'm certain one of you may not be so eased, don't think I'd a made it much..." Varren collapses at their feet, obviously due to the numerous wounds he had sustained.

They are only a short distance from camp.

[DarK_RaideR]

The food certainly helped in lifting Bacon's spirit. Or maybe it was the process of cooking. Could have been seeing the satisfaction in Flo's face when she tried that first bite. Or maybe all of that. What mattered is that they still had work to do. Using one of the magical supplies he bought from the market, the gnome refreshes the magic that alters his appearance into a dark-skinned deep gnome, then winks at Flo. "Remember, don't give the cover away" he says with a smile, a stark contrast to all the times he's pointed out the same thing to the elf woman.

 

The duo walk down the dark streets and towards the Praedorian camp. The place looks disciplined, but it's the little tricks like the torches and canopies that really give the group away as professionals. What feels strange is their level of alertness. It's not the standard level of veteran awareness and it certainly isn't a facade to scare off strangers and display the faction's might. These people are prepared for an attack from the inside. Apparently things are ready to fall apart any minute.

 

Once the Harrik brothers appear, he nods at their suggestion of continuing that drink and overlooks their comment about Flo joining, thinking to himself with satisfaction that she earned her spot and made it a lot easier than he expected. En route to the tent, the catapult is another display of the faction's experience. They have certainly come prepared for proper warfare.

 

Bacon takes a moment to give the statue an intrigued look. Surely a take on the concept of justice. Lack of race must be by design, either to show it's indescriminate or that all races are welcome in this group. What's confusing him is the scale. Mercenaries, but with a sense of justice, that's his first thought. Willing to take a coin but make sure it won't tip the scales. Or is it supposed to be the wrath of justice, making things right against the corrupt?

 

Eventually the orc joins them, identifying himself as Hrogar. His words ring a distant bell inside Bacon's mind. Varren had said something about the Praedorians. They were the ones closest to the leader of the Rebellion and the hardest to penetrate, but had he also said that he'd see through their lies? The sorcerer is almost certain and either way, these people look professional enough to notice the loopholes in any story he might come up with about being a mercenary. Maybe if he was with the chaotic cannibals, but not these people. He might as well come clean, they may be on the wrong side of the war but they feel honorable enough to handle the truth.

 

Bacon drops the spell holding his magical disguise together, then stretches to his full height in an attempt to display confidence. "About time we stopped playing around" he adds in hope of coming across as someone prepared for this, instead of looking like a child caught stealing candy. "You look honorable enough to hear it and professional enough to understand why we had to resort to a little trickery in order to get here. Maybe a little too professional, otherwise I can't see how you could have landed on the same camp as those cannibals. Oh, and a bunch of rebellious children driven to desperation. You're too good for this, you obviously don't belong with such a crowd so I assume the money is good. None of my business, just pointing out the facts. Either way, you can't deny this is a very odd mix of an army. That's what kept me here, what spiked my curiosity to investigate. What brought me here were the usual tales of rebellion against injustice. I know that stuff is usually a tad further from the truth, but honestly I don't feel like there's a lot of people concerning themselves with setting anything straight. You're in it for the money, I just can't figure out what drives the masses. It just doesn't make sense."

[Oramac]

Sitting at the table with Bronan, absently turning pages in the journal, Oramac begins to wonder why Varren never told him about any of this code, or whatever it is.

 

Seeing the note in the back, Oramac pulls it out and begins to read. As he read through the letter, he had to start blinking back tears. It was a side of his friend he’d never heard. Never in his life did Oramac imagine that he might have helped someone else out of trouble.

 

Finishing his meal, Oramac hands the note to Bronan: “You might want to read this. I’ve no idea if you’ll care, but more information never hurt.â€

 

Pocketing the journal as he got up from the table, he and Bronan make their way to the Eastern encampment. It’s just as ramshackle and downtrodden as Oramac had come to expect in this place. He saw the men drinking even at this hour, recognizing him and Bronan, some cheering loudly and others clearly too drunk to cheer.

 

Having noticed the “guards†and been invited inside what appeared to be the Main Tent, Oramac kept his guard up. These people seemed friendly enough at the moment, but that could quickly change.

 

Walking in, he sees a giant of a man in front of him. Easily taller than Bronan, which Oramac didn’t think possible, the man certainly had an air of confidence about him. If any were able to give them answers, this man would probably be among them.

 

After everyone had filed out, leaving Oramac, Bronan, and the Giant Man alone in the tent, the man spoke:

“You are quite the oddity. Humans taking down a Dwarven spy who serves a ruler of a human only kingdom.â€

 

‘Hmm…’ Oramac thinks to himself, ‘I’m half-elven, but he doesn’t seem to have noticed. No sense correcting him just yet.’

 

As the Giant Man finishes speaking, clearly dismissing him and Bronan, Oramac thinks about his words.

 

‘Popular among those loyal to what cause? They like us but would still stab us in the back? He wants us to help temper them for battle?’……..

 

“Ahh,†Oramac says, as they come to a group of men led by the Torturer. “So this is how we temper the men for battle?â€

 

As he’s speaking, Oramac keeps a trained eye on the Torturer.

 

“Knew I'd find you. You aint as sneaky as you think. Some boys here caught on real quick.â€, the torturer said. Oramac, already on edge from the speech the Giant man gave, noticed Varren’s cat lurking close to the torturer. Either this was an incredibly stupid cat, or something else is going on here.

 

Looking up at the Torturer, Oramac’s eyes full of questions, the Torturer gives him a sly smile even as he draws a knife and thrusts it into the man on his left.

 

Still unsure why the Torturer would help them, Oramac didn’t waste time asking questions. Taking advantage of the confusion, Oramac pulled his daggers free of their sheathe and let loose a flurry of movement.

 

As if in a dance, Oramac weaved his way around the 5 men in front of him. Risking a glance over his shoulder, he was impressed to see Bronan single-handedly destroying the 4 men who had been behind them.

 

After the dust settled, the Torturer drinks from a vial around his neck and shrinks back to the form of a badly beaten and disfigured Varren. Oramac can’t believe his eyes. His friend, whom he saw dead and dangling from ropes, now stood shakily in front of him.

 

“About time I found ya, though I'm certain one of you may not be so eased, don't think I'd a made it much...†Varren said, as he collapsed. Oramac caught him and, with some effort, carried him into the tent. He laid Varren down on a cot, careful to keep his obviously injured leg straight.

 

He desperately wanted to question the Dwarf, to get answers to the many questions flashing through his mind. ‘Was this the Varren he’d known? Does he remember us? He certainly seemed like he had. How did he survive? And WHAT is with this damn cat?!’

 

But, near as Oramac could tell, Varren was in no condition to talk just yet……..

[Gainsdalf the Whey]

Bronan reads the note as they walk to the camp. "Shame, sounds like he knew he'd turned into a monster. At least he knew he lost his way. Hopefully death brings him peace."

Bronan takes in the giant's words. It seems he has found another of his opinion, that war needed to wait and every soul was needed. He nods when told he'd like to meet again tomorrow, and leaves with Oramac quietly. The giant is the first being he's actually liked so far since coming to this place.

When they meet the thugs in the street, Bronan sighs. As much as he enjoys a good brawl, such action is against what he's going for in trying to ready the world for what is to come. When battle commences, he focuses on leaving the attackers living. First he spins with a low backhand of his hammer, taking the first man from the fray with a shattered knee. Not having had time to ready his shield, he raises his left arm and takes a blow from a cudgel across his meaty triceps. That attacker’s momentum halted, Bronan throws his massive bulk that way and knocks the man to the ground, grabbing the cudgel and twisting it from his grip as he falls. He then turns back to his right to take on the other two charging men, flicking his hammer into the gut of one before he can reach him and bringing the cudgel crashing down on the collarbone of the other, crumpling him to the ground with his shoulder a tatter of broken bones.

With the first attacker sobbing and clutching his broken knee, the third trying to somehow breath after taking a hammer to the gut, and the third unconscious from the pain of his ruined shoulder, Bronan turns back to the second, who was just recovering his feet and is now weaponless. He simply motions to the other three with his free hand and raises a questioning eyebrow. The second attacker decides he wants none of that, and goes stumbling off with what dignity he has left. Bronan turns and kicks the hammer gut attacker in the face, sending him into unconsciousness to make sure he doesn't become a problem again. He then turns back to the other two, stomping his boot on the shattered knee of the first attacker to make sure that pain is all he can think about and he too does not become a distraction.

While the man shrieks in pain, Bronan watches Varren reveal himself once again. He gives a baffled laugh and shakes his head as the dwarf collapses. "He might be better off dead at this rate, won't ever be able to deadlift with that hand." he says as Oramac decides to take him back to the tent. Bronan doesn't offer any help as they leave the sight of the battle, he simply looks down to Shattered Knee as they leave, "Gonna want magical healing on that if you ever want to squat again." While Oramac labors his way back with the dwarf, Bronan keeps a casual lookout for any more silly brutes while he rotates his swelling left shoulder to keep it mobile.

Once back to the tent he sits on the opposite side of the room indian style, watching Varren, and waiting for him to wake. He had wanted the dwarf dead, but after the letter, is willing to change his mind if they followed some ground rules from here on out.

[cn3wton]

Oramac exits the tent to find some water, and perhaps something to eat. He hesitates for a moment, but is certain that Bronan was a better man than one who would kill an injured and crippled man.

A few seconds pass before Varren coughs, some blood visible in his beard. He rolls his head to the side. It is obvious nearly any movement causes him extreme pain. His gaze meets Bronans.

"You have not killed me yet, I must say I am a bit surprised." He coughs again, the movement shooting pain throughout his body. "Why?" He says while returning his gaze to the man. The tone in the question makes it obvious. He is not asking why Bronan turned on him, but why he let him live.

[Gainsdalf the Whey]

Bronan thinks a moment after Varren's question, then nods to himself as he decides not to be a sarcastic ass and give the barely living dwarf the honest truth. "Your friend out there showed me the letter you wrote to him. Before, you seemed to me one that is cruel, working with good people, using whatever excuse to kill when he could. Your letter however revealed you to be good, but gone down a dark path. More importantly, it revealed you as one who knows he has tread a way that is contrary to the dwarf he is."

 

Bronan shakes his head "I care not for all this good and evil talk however, these things matter not to me. What I care for is having the strongest, most numerous army possible for what is to come, to give us the best shot at saving this world." he gestures around with one hand as he says this.

 

"I don't know when I did it, but I seem to have dedicated myself to this cause. You can be a great assett to that army, but your killing is also taking possible assetts away. Should you stop the needless killing of potential soldiers for our realm, and be the leader your letter claims you to be, then you'll be more an assett than a detriment. That's why you still live, because I'm giving you the chance to be what you once were, what you seem to want to be again. If you can do that, then ours paths align. If you keep killing needlessly, instead of looking for the best path toward this end fight, then maybe I change my mind."

 

Bronan puts his hands behind him and leans back, stretching the stiffness from his chest and shoulders, and sighs, "Listen to me, big brute thinking he has a right to judge what is best for the world. But who else?"

[Terinatum]

Flo and Bacon retreat to their tent and brush off the dust of the shanty town. Bacon gets to cooking and Flo bangs out the crud from her leather and wipes down the armor with a touch of oil that she bought at the market. Not sure this is the right stuff, but my leather needs some attention. She seems content with the oil and pulls her sap from its alcove and touches it up as well. Haven't given you a workout in awhile, have I? Flo lets the sap slip in and out of each hand, feeling the smooth leather tight against the hardness underneath. She puts it out to dry a bit and removes her bracers. These too have seen little battle of late. The spikes are almost all silver. No blood stains, no skin stuck in the rivets. She replaces her items appropriately, placing the leather armor on the table. With a scowl from Bacon, she moves everything instead to a relatively clean section of the ground. She sets herself to wiping down and changing into less dirty undergarments. She had wanted to buy some linen, but couldn't find any cloth of worth so it would have to wait. She changes her hose and dumps the debris from her boots. She stands up, looking about and then settles.

 

Flo drops her guard enough to recharge her body with slow, easy movements - easing the stiffness and the bruises. Rogue... Fighter… Fighter? Rogue? Which came first these days? Flo slowly paces, using the aroma of Bacon's cooking as a grounding point to the world around her. What was it with showing your skin to any sword or arrow passing nearby? A welcoming sound from Bacon brings Flo to the table. Even with heavy thoughts, her body thanks Bacon with warm sighs and murmurs of delight. When did she leave the shadows and draw the bow and sword in reaction to the world? Flo finishes her helping and begins to redress, giving a small chuckle to Bacon's smiling request to leave him in secret. She finishes up, all items in place and body warm. She nods as they leave the tent. Still the thoughts are running in circles. Flo misses the advantage of cover and the highways. Although inspecting the roofs before her was like guessing which highway would fall in, or over, first. But eyeing the dark areas now was not for want of them, but the want was for great streams of sunshine to drop into them so she and Bacon could see their enemies. Empty shadows are likely quite rare in this place.

 

As Flo and Bacon arrive at the enclosure, Flo notices the barricades and guards are quite a dynamic change from the rest. She has no clue if these soldiers were going to be friend or foe or both, but she felt more at ease here than in the streets. She takes in the precision and the high regard for good work. They are a unit and yet they have their places. She enjoyed the military feel, for short periods anyway. She grins to herself and walks on to the covered space up ahead. Bacon's disguise is holding up and her disguise needed no assistance. She was what you saw. An Elf with few allegiances. Flo let her brooding inner conversation show in her steps and on her face. She wasn't here to impress or beg or anything. She just wants to fight. Granted she wants to kill the demon more than the foolish humans, but the tide could go either way here so she had yet to hold out for one side or the other. As Bacon lets his guise down and speaks to the leader about their methods, Flo becomes more curious. Keeping a slightly disdained look, she watches the leader as Bacon skirts the question nicely. Without a direct question to her, Flo refuses to talk, letting them assume whatever they wish about her presence here, with or without affiliation with Bacon.

 

 

 

(Spent -- 4 gps on food, 3 sps on oil, and 7 gps on 7 arrows)

[cn3wton]

Varren seems to ease at Bronan's response visibly relaxing into his cot. "Shouldn't say I'm surprised the boy found the letter. No matter." He looks to the ceiling of the tent, as if he is gazing into the stars through it. "I'll not deny that many have met their end by my hand." He pauses.

 

"But I have never found any joy in taking another's life. And is a world truly worth saving if we must rely on monsters to save it?"

 

Oramac returns through the small opening of the tent, carrying what meager supplies he could scavenge. Seeing him brings a small smile to the dwarves face. "Good timing, I'm about to starve to death." He laughs despite the obvious pain the action causes him. He props himself up and motions for Oramac to pass him something to eat and drink. When he does Varren begins to eat it slowly with great difficulty. 

 

"Tell me what have you learned so far." He listens intently, taking a sip of drink or a bite of food here and there. Once they finish he nods. "Your wise to avoid the dreads, there nasty bastards as is. But I feel there is something else driving their crazed actions. And the people..." He shakes his head. "They are what worry me the most. I have seen fanaticism before but this. Hatred does not even begin to describe it." He pushes the remaining food away, the missing teeth making it far too hard to continue on. 

 

"Arthur and I had hoped that the situation could be dealt with quietly. But sadly even if Hargull where to be dealt with, I know it is too late. These people would lash out, quite violently. So we must move to an alternative plan. We must find cultivate a suitable replacement. Someone who could ease the situation and, at the very least, extend the stand still until more permanent measures can be enacted. You have already met with The Giant. Though know being in his company may not be the safest place for you two. The militia have a deep seated hatred for humans. It sounds as if The Giant would seek some sort of peace. I do not know how the rest of his company feels about that course of action however... Perhaps it would be best to wait and hear from the others..."

 

 

Bacon surprises Gronn with his willingness to speak truth. It brings a slight smile to his face, one the others seem to share.

 

"You truly are out of place here. Allow me to be truthful with you as well. We are tied to Hargull by our own code, one that has existed since the formation of our band. Once a contract has been taken, there are only a few ways that it may be broken. I will not bore you with our laws, but we have only one option now. I must step down as the leader of the Preadorians, surrender all my earned trophies and heraldry, and start again anew. Though it is not the slight to my honor that I fear, but what this action would invoke from those within the city. For I am certain that if news where to spread they would seek to attack us with haste. Our ways are well known."

 

He takes a large drink from his cup before setting it down empty. "There is something evil here, it drives men to horrible deed. We must take action soon. You must remain here until dawn, I am certain that many saw you enter. It would appear odd if you where to leave now. It will also give you a chance to see the infamous leader of this decrepit city with your own eyes. He is scheduled to arrive early in the morning." He takes a bite out of a piece of salted meat then stands. "I must go, I hope to hear from you again soon." Once Gronn has left the brothers lead Bacon and Flo to a small canopied area with numerous bed rolls stacked neatly to a side. "This is where potential recruits stay. You should be able to see Hargull from here early in the morning. And him you. Perhaps it may provide an opportunity that will benefit us all." With that the brothers bowed and left them.

 

Early in the morning the commotion coming from the city could be heard, seeming to shake the very walls of the praedorian camp. Bacon and Flo rose just in time to see Hargull enter through the main gate. He was flanked by two men in splendidly polished armor, behind him nearly 20 dreads strode. It became abunduntly clear whom Hargull favored to lead his armies. Hargull himself lead a beautiful woman with dark hair by the arm. Her stunning beauty clashed heavily with his own appearance. He was so large that one could only assume any form of movement was difficult for him. He was clothed in find silks and materials and adorned with jewelry. The very air around him just seemed, wrong. Neither of the pair could put their finger on it but the desire to speak with him quickly faded from their minds. He was not the man they thought he was.

 

The man does not stay long, and the pair are glad for it.A short time later one of the brother comes to them.

 

"You must leave, you are not worthy candidates for recruits and letting you dwell here any longer will arouse suspicion. Do not take it personally, we do not doubt your prowess in battle. We have orders to continue to scout an patrol the forests to the north west. However we are to avoid the north east. He claims it is because it is already clear, but we have reasons to believe this is not the case. Perhaps this is something you will be willing to investigate? If you wish to speak with us again keep an eye on the place where we first met. I must be going and safe travels."

 

Bacon and Flo quickly make their way back to camp. They catch quick glances from all around and the passing comments along the lines of more recruits not being up to snuff and that the praedorians are "too picky". Indeed it seems their cover is holding up well. Once back at the camp they are quite surprised to see Varren alive, though he is certainly not doing well. He seemed to have taken some magical potion that healed him substantially, though he clearly states it has taken quite a few years off his life, much of his body is bandaged.

 

The group shares their info and decides to venture into the "off limits" areas of the woods. Certain they can pick up a trail they head out. Hoping their cover as die hard loyalists who turned in a dwarven spy, and praedorian rejects may provide them leverage in any potential negotiations. 

[Gainsdalf the Whey]

Bronan  sits back a bit as the dwarf shows his relief. It seemed they had a truce, at least for now.

 

is a world truly worth saving if we must rely on monsters to save it?"

 

Bronan thinks only briefly before nodding "Every world is going to have it's monsters. Maybe the reason the gods have the monsters exist at all is that sometimes you NEED them in order to save the world. Other times, it's all you can do to keep them from destroying it themselves."

 

He pauses and sighs as he comes to a surprising realization, "Right now, I'm wishing that a few that I've killed over the years would be avaiable for this fight to come now that I think about it."

 

Bronan sits quietly after Oramac comes back and starts catching Varren up, letting the two friends talk.He nods when Varren brings up The Giant. "I like him, he is calm and thoughtful, but there is a power and obvious presence to him. He's the best candidate for who I'd want to be a leader of this mob that I've run into so far. The most likely to be able to control this mob. But you're right, there is something evil here."

 

Once it is obvious that they are waiting on their friends' return, Bronan decides to bed down for the night. He takes off his armor, looses his hammer, and once again lies on the floor using it for a pillow as he has done for so long.

[DarK_RaideR]

Bacon listens to Gronn with interest and some relief that his honesty paid off. Of course, if Flo ever asks, this was totally his plan from the beginning and he was sure it would work. "Such is the issue with laws and codes of honor, good sir" he nods in understanding. "In theory they sound great, but they are by definition broad in order to cover every possible situation and eventually, things will come up in such a way that laws turn out to be nothing but self-imposed chains binding people into injust positions. That would seem to be your current predicament and of course it would be asking to much of you if you were to step down from leader of this group. Especially when there are other forces like those cannibals around. I understand your concern about their reactions, everything from the atmosphere and politics to the very setup of your camp makes me think that, in a way, you are beseiged by your own allies". Bacon stresses the irony in that last word. "We too sense this evil presence and it is not simply the way those Dreads carry themselves. People here are embracing something dark inside them. There is blood in the air and the crowds are rabid. That's not idealism, neither the desperation of poverty. Something doesn't feel right and that's what I'd like to look into."

 

Bacon finishes his drink, more out of courtesy, as he waits for the words to sink into everyone's minds. Once the meeting is over and they are shown to their beds, he settles in and covers himself tight. Still in his clothes, he is starting to feel the filth creep in. Slowly, he was turning into a weary soldier during some long campaign. Worse even, he was becoming like the ragged commoners or even the dreads. The very thought gave him shivers. Was Bronan experiencing the same, acting in such a way and delivering Varren to his death? Was Varren a glimpse of their future, having walked down a dark path for too long? And how was everything affecting Flo? She didn't seem to be very different than her usual self, but one could never be sure around rogues. "What am I even thinking" he wonders to himself as he places a hand under the cloth to feel the tattoo on his chest. "This place is tearing us apart. We must slay this beast before we ourselves become beasts."

 

The next morning, the ruckus alerts the sorcerer just in time to see Hargull enter through the main gate. It is not surprising that he favors the dreads, with thay aura of.... something wrong, surrounding him. The woman next to him looks proud. She is not a frightened slave dragged along. She looks majestic, which only makes her a different version of what Hargul stands for. Bacon has heard of temptresses and succubi, therefore cannot shake away his gut feeling that this woman is playing a role in the scheme of things. Perhaps she is the very source of corruption that turned Hargul into whatever he currently is.

 

 

 

When one of the brothers appears to send them away, the sorcerer finally has something to work with. North east. Right. "We'll look into it. Thanks for the heads up" he answers as an implied farewell.

[Oramac]

As Oramac is talking with Varren, he concludes that it is indeed the Varren he knew before.

 

Seeing Bronan sleeping in the corner, Oramac can clearly tell some kind of discussion happened between the man and Varrne, though he keeps his thoughts to himself. No sense bringing up grudges, if it can be avoided.

 

As Oramac gets himself ready for sleep, he thinks about his current situation, and how he got here. It seemed like another lifetime when Varren had met him in that ratty little tavern and taken him to Hon'ga's kingdom. How long had it been? Two years? Three? Is that all?

 

He'd learned so much in that time, and yet here he was worried that he would somehow screw it all up again. Nodding off to a fitful sleep, Oramac woke early and went to retrieve water and make breakfast for the group, hoping that Bacon and Flo would return soon. To his delight, a short time later while sharpening his daggers, he saw them walk through the tent flaps, and smiled openly at them.

 

“Welcome backâ€, he said. “The others ought to be awake soon. Help yourself to water and whatever food you can find. It's nothing like what you're used to, I'm sure, but sadly I never was much of a cook.â€

 

Once they'd all awoken and eaten their fill, they shared what information they had and voted on a leader for the group. Oramac knew he wouldn't make the cut, and was glad for it. Whether or not he was capable of leading, he felt that he hadn't earned it. Not by a long shot.

 

Were they to ask him, he'd cast his vote for Flo, feeling that she had the right amount of cleverness and skills to get them through most anything.

 

Once decided, he strapped on his armor with the rest of the group, sheathed his daggers, and followed them towards to North-East, wondering what was in store, and whether he would hate himself yet again when it was all over.......

[Terinatum]

Flo lets her respect for the Captain show clearly on her face and in her body. She stands taller and gives him and the conversation her focus. "You are acting on morals when the world around you crumbles? No disrespect intended, but how do you survive this cataclysmic juxtaposition?  Whichever way this battle goes, the survivors will need people like you to keep their lands safe from stragglers and bandits. You're not standing here with a simple question. I envy you not. There is no other way? Then it is what it will be. May your Goddesses have mercy on you and your troops."

 

Flo lets whatever philosophical thoughts bubbling up, die in their silent infancy. It is too late for more discussion, they have made their decision. It will be this way. She feels a sadness for the leader. Not that he's stepping down, but that he won't be connected the way he has been to his troops. He will feel out of place in the crowd.

 

Speaking to no one specifically, Flo lets out her decision. "The balance has tipped to that of action." She looks to the sky as they escort her and Bacon to their sleeping quarters. I must fight this evil with my whole being. It is too much for this world to handle. This cannot be how this world ends. She looks about the place before it's too dark in case there is reason to run in the night. She doubted it, but habits are habits. She settles down closest to the door and lets Bacon arrange himself as he likes. He doesn't like. Flo hears his restlessness while trying to sleep. Without comment, Flo moves to lay back to back with him, giving him at least one secure defense he can rely on. Once his breathing calms down, she lets herself drift off with her rapier in her hand.

 

The commotion wakes her up and her readies herself. She can't help but look at the thing they call a man. The woman was slightly more discreet with her intents. Flo sees common things between how the woman walks in a crowd and how Flo walks with a confidence and a secret to it. She takes note of any uniform look of the attendants. She also measures the man and woman and puts that in her mind's eye. Memorizing as much as possible. The guard comes to shoo them off. Bacon and Flo make quick work of the way back to their tent. She slides the flap open and is immediately greeted by Oramac and food.

 

She gets a thank you to come out of her mouth before laying eyes on a dead man. She pulls her rapier and strides up to Varren in one smooth motion. "Speak, what have you done to become such?" Flo keeps watch on him and sees the others stirring in confusion. "So you are the true Varren? I see. But why? Why come back to this, what is your intent?" Varren holds his own in what is likely not his first time explaining. She cuts him off after hearing his voice enough. "Enough then, welcome back. Have you eaten? Or moved a bit? Don't stay laying around, you'll seize up and we need to be on our way. Are you coming or staying? I'll not give you our destination if you stay, for everyone's safety." She sees Varren nod and then she turns to Bronan. Come here you delicious man. Flo gives Bronan a big hug and whispers, "I trust you to know when Varren reaches beyond his bounds. Please let us decide on any action together." She kisses him on the cheek and says in a regular tone, "Is that sensible?"

 

After a lengthy discussion of all the information they have gotten, it seems to Flo that they should head out to this protected place and get firsthand knowledge of what is happening. "I can get us there, quietly. I don't know what we'll find or what we can do to keep it from helping their side. Can you walk Varren? And how are we disguising you in order to get out of town?" Whatever they can find will have to do. They exit the tent for the last time and head to the east edge of town. Once they camp, they can start out in the morning with the sun at their backs and in the eyes of our foes.

[DarK_RaideR]

Hearing Varren's welcome, Bacon almost instinctively lashes out at him but manages to retain his composure at the last moment before speaking. So what if anyone overheard and connected the dots? If there was anyone spying on them, he would have already caught wind of things, especially seeing him and Flo stride into and out of the Praedorian camp. Once again, the sorcerer finds himself wondering how much of the surrounding darkness has crept into his soul and where his jovial past self has gone off to.

 

As he steps inside the tent, Flo is already over someone who looks like a battered version of Varren, her blade in hand. As the man explains himself with the resignation of one who has repeated the same words too many times lately, the elf lowers her weapon. Bacon can't help but have a smirk on his face. Sure, if anyone had been paying any attention, Varren being alive and reconnected with those who apparently gave him up as a spy was the nail on the coffin of any subtlety in plans. His gaze rests on Bronan, but his mind races over several assumptions as to what might have happened to get him and Varren not kill each other on sight again. Hopefully, they both learned their lesson on being reckless.

 

Chewing on whatever chowder Oramac produced, Bacon's senses suddenly overwhelm him with pain. Now that he's again somewhere feeling safe, his mind finally registers how everything about him aches. Might have been the sleep in a recruit's bed, maybe he's just been too tense lately, or maybe a combination of both. Ideally, he'd like to take a shower, put on some new clothes and get some rest before the group moves out. As he takes off his vest, Flo mentions disguising Varren to get him out of town when Bacon feels something odd while folding the vest. Checking to see, he finds the last of those little trinkets he bought from the market in order to magically alter himself into a dark gnome and get near the Praedorians. "That's got to be a good sign" he mutters before tossing the item towards Flo, who grabs it mid-air with the grace only an elven rogue could display.

[Oramac]

As they walk, Oramac remembers the pained look as Bacon was eating his chowder.  Thinking it was because of his dreadful cooking skills, Oramac sidles up to Bacon and asks: "Bacon, you clearly didn't like my cooking, and you're much better at it than I am.  When we have a bit of a break, would you mind teaching me a few recipes?"

 

'Hopefully', Oramac thinks to himself, 'we'll all still be alive later.....'

[Terinatum]

Flo catches the item that Bacon throws her way without warning. She smiles at him, knowing he likes to keep her reflexes sharp. Flo hands whatever it is to Varren, gently placing it in his shaky hand. "This will help us get you past the mob-like fiends in camp." She grins, but suddenly thinks. Umm. Too soon? She tries for a warm smile for Varren, but quite doubts it comes out looking like one.

Where have my gentle ways gone? I would have been taking care of Varren as soon as I saw him, friend or foe. Now, I just hope he is worth the trouble of carrying him around while he heals. Maybe he won't go? Nay, we will likely need his knowledge and that is worth the hassle of a broken body.

Flo starts to rub her hands together briskly, getting them quite warm. She strolls over to Bacon, kneels down behind him and places her warm hands on his shoulders. She squeezes his muscles. He is amazingly beaten up inside. She doesn't know gnome bodies well, but the knots she is feeling can't be a good sign. Not wanting to entice his muscles to defend themselves, she lets up on the pressure and leans in, her mouth to his ear. "I am sorry for your pain. If I can help when we set camp, I shall." She kisses the tip of his ear and moves away.

She suddenly flushes, realizing that she actually kissed Bacon. I have never done that before? Why now? Why at all?! Who is someone to you that you would kiss them? She felt warm inside which was much more than embarrassment. She hides herself in another bowl of chowder, thanking Oramac for his cooking with a nod.

[cn3wton]

Varren laughs "I fear I wont be able to make this trip with you. I'd just slow you down. I know not what you will find, and I expect it may take you some time. Do not worry, I have supplies enough to sustain me while you are gone. I only offer this advice, do not travel through those woods at night. Burn a great fire and you shall be fine." He nods then quickly situates himeslf to fall back into what sleep he can. But not before wishing Oramac luck.

 

The group chooses to follow Flo's lead through the wilderness. They travel for a time and set up camp off the trail a ways. They start a large enough fire to fill the small clearing with light, but not so large as to be seen from the road. They begin to share food and the mood is a bit somber, everyone caught deep in thought. It is unclear who shared first, but slowly one by one they begin to tell a handful of their favorite memories, deeds that even the closest in the group did not know. Here in the darkness beneath a red tinted night the group grows closer together, and for a time they forget the fears that itch at the back of each minds.

[Terinatum]

"There was this Cleric," Flo trails off, unsure. "I met a few years ago now." Flo can start to feel the warm heat of the memory enfold her. "The most beautiful person on this land, a shinning orb of love and healing." There was no easier choice in my life. "And in this darkening world, it was a haven to be in her presence."

"I was working for a trading company that wanted to set up in this big northern city-state. They told me the big bosses of the place wouldn't even let them in on fair-days. Said, they would send small groups of soldiers to harass the workers back into the forest. They wanted in, and legitimately at that. We'll that's not my strong suit, I warned them. I reckon they didn't care by the sniggers I heard in the back of the dim room. They paid me 300 silver, up front, and promising more after they were in." Last time silver ever makes a decision for me. "I agreed… Why wouldn't I?" Because, I didn't have the truth. Anger brews underneath Flo's ribs, threatening the warmth of her Cleric's image.

"I blackmailed 3 of the sitting council members, only needing one more to tip the balance. But I couldn't find… anything! The other four men were ghosts in the taverns, military barracks, and town halls. People knew their company names, but not a personal name. It surprised many people to realize they had no clue whom held the reigns of their home." They often didn't want to know.

Flo stared at the bonfire, toasting her bare toes and warming her face. She could see her clearly, even now. She would swear to anyone that she could hear her in the dreams that Flo begged for each night. "I got them in as legitimately as I could. But I took thirteen lives doing it. There weren't saints or even law abiding, but I wouldn't have gone about things the way I did if I had known." Flo digs her toes into the soft moss and pulls back the earth with a strong pull of both her feet. "You see, the ones wanting in had been warned several times that they could come in, but only after they changed their pricing policies. And improve their materials. 'Even if the hammer is cheaper, it won't last past the cycle of one year.'" I had the information I should have gotten long before agreeing.

"I stood on the roof top of a high storehouse, with the last man I needed to convince in my grip. 'Please, I'll give you anything. Don't take me to death's door. Please!' He begged just that once and then remained quiet while I stewed." It should have been an easy decision for me. "She stepped over from the dark side of the roof. I heard her coming, but the footsteps… or something, told me I had nothing to fear.

"'You need not torment yourself further my friend. His death is not the answer you seek.' Her voice melted my body, turned my anger to tears. "I absently dropped the man to the roof at me feet. I think I remember him scurrying away. Didn't matter." Her eyes were the lightest blue I've seen, and her mouth, her lips, were red. "She wore a simple rose-colored robe with the hood draped back. Her long blonde hair stirring just so in the breeze." Flo stops talking for a moment. Perhaps they had heard enough.

"She told me to leave the town and find the grove of trees in the south that only had birch in the middle. I went, she met me there. She prayed and -  She cleansed my body and spirit. We spent awhile there. She's an accomplished musician. The harp. Anyway, we stayed up late on the last night, not wanting to miss a single… star fall. Yeah, the stars are so fragile up there, always falling." Flo claps her mouth shut before she says anything she can't un-tell. She eyed Oramac, then Bronan. Looking for signs. She slowly turns to meet Bacon's eyes.

"It was a long time ago. I couldn't stay and she couldn't leave. It was a lifetime ago." Flo releases the dirt piled up underneath her and sinks her hot feet deeper into the cool dirt. She kept a close eye on an ember at Bacon's feet. She didn't look up to meet his gaze again. Unless he wants. She stared harder at the ember burning undisturbed by its surroundings.

[Oramac]

Thanking Varren, Oramac silently turns to leave the tent, eager to be doing something. 

 

Following Flo out of the camp and into the forest, Oramac strays to the edge of the path, trying to see any hint of whatever it is that inhabits this forest. 

 

After setting up a small campsite out of the way of prying eyes, and getting the fire started, they fall into thought.  Oramac isn’t sure when or how it started, but somehow they started sharing stories of their past heroics.  Fearing he might be asked to share, Oramac racks his brain for something, anything, that might not cause them to hate him any more than they already do. 'AHH!', he thinks, 'That time down south...'

 

Before long, Flo finishes her story.  A sad tale of death, and Redemption.  Oramac wonders how much he should read between the lines.  

 

As he's contemplating Flo's story, he notices the groups eyes turn to him, expecting him to speak.....

 

“I……â€, Oramac starts, not sure what to say.  Finally, he decides on the truth.

 

“Friends, my past doesn’t lend itself well to stories.  I was trained with a very, umm, specific, skill set.  It isn’t something I'm proud of, and I don't particularly enjoy talking about it.â€
 

Noting the looks on their faces, he continues his thought from earlier:

 

“But there was one time, way down in the most southern part of this land.  I was tasked with infiltrating a military base and gathering intel about their numbers.  It wasn’t as big as the place we’ve just come from, but it was close.  So I had my cover all set up and my clothes and everything picked out, and I get there, and it turns out everything they told me about the place was wrong!  So I had to just wing it.  My clothes were obnoxious compared to most of the people there, and I knew their commander had just died and been replaced, so I told them I was the long-lost 4^th cousin of their late Commander, come to pay my respects!  Ha!â€

 

As he pauses, Oramac takes a drink and continues.

 

“So here I am, in the middle of an enemy compound with no weapons or armor, pretending to be a guy that doesn’t exist, and somehow convincing the current Commander that I really was this guys 4^th cousin! They even invited me back for their Life Celebration Feast!â€

 

By now Oramac is happy to be talking and sharing.  He’d never before been able to talk about anything in his past; even with Varren he hadn’t shared things like this.  Looking around, he felt thankful for the people sitting with him.  Even for Bronan, with whom he knew he was on shaky terms. 

[DarK_RaideR]

Bacon hears Oramac's comment and waves his hand for a moment "No, it's..." he begins as he tries to chow down the food in his mouth. "It's not *GULP* that. Food's fine. Although it could use a little more time on low heat. And some onion to sweeten it up, but that's not the issue. I'm just... tired" he says, standing upright and stretching out as he pulls back his shoulderblades together. "Been ages since I slept in a proper bed and it's all coming out now but yeah, to answer your question," his eyes follow Flo coming closer with somewhat of a question in his gaze "we can do this cooking thing together next time. It's not often I meet others who bother with anything besides the basics of the aaaaaaguh!...art" His final word coincides with the feeling of Flo's hands grabbing his sore back and trying to loosen it up. "Holy mistletoes, thank you Flo. I feel like somebody roughed me up" he says, quickly adding "no offense, Varren". The elf woman leans in to whisper something in his ear. "Thanks. Maybe sleeping on the ground will set my spine str...hihihi, that tickles!" The sorcerer can't help but giggle like a child as Flo kisses the tip of his ear. Somehow, he doesn't want to turn and face her. Somehow he knows she'll be blushing. He's got a strange feling as well. It's been a long while since his more childish and playful side came out. On one hand he's thankful towards Flo for striking a spark of light in the bleakness surrounding them, but on the other... 

 

The following night, Bacon finds himself in the wilds, his companions sharing stories around the campfire. First he hears the tale of Flo, somehow resonating with her last few words. "I couldn't stay and she couldn't leave". Such is the adventuring life, drifters all of them and wanderers. The gnome's mind races ahead to follow that train of thought but the more conscious part of it knows where it leads and shuts that down quickly. Then Oramac speaks, his tale reminding the gnome of the way he bluffed his way into the Praedorian faction. Casting a side glance towards Bronan in case he wants to share some heroic exploits of his, Bacon feels the silence and expectation getting heavy. "My turn then? Alright..."

 

"Way back in a day, I used to be a hireling for seasoned adventurers. I could cook, I knew my way around the wilds and was slightly less talkative than the average bard. So this group shows up one day, led by a wizard. Weirdest one I ever seen, he was young alright but way too muscular for a wizard. Creepiest man I've ever seen too. He had short black dreadlocks for hair, his voice was raspy and his skin was grey and wrinkly as if he had aged before his time. At the time I assumed some powerful spell had backfired or something. At the time I didn't really understand, my own powers hadn't fully developed yet and besides I've never been quite the arcane theoretic. Coin was good and I was expected to stick to the rear, stay out of fights and provide three meals a day."

 

"So anyway, I follow those people into a swamp. Terrible place, mosquitos wouldn't give us a break and the moisture gave us a real hard time whenever we tried lighting a simple torch, let alone a campfire like this. I cooked for that crew and they were happy to eat more than their usual share. Guess the food was the only comfort they had in that dreary place. Three days and three nights trekking through that swamp, we finally come up to a hut of sorts. I'd heard stories back in town about a blind hag living in the swamp so I realized this was the target. Everyone was so tense about approaching that place that they never realized I fell behind, like I always did. When they entered the house, I expected to hear the sounds of fighting but all I heard instead was absolute silence. There was something eerie about it. Even the swamp bugs fell silent, as if the whole world stood still and held its breath for a moment. Next thing I know, that wizard leading the group walks out the door but he's changed. His skin looks less leathery. His movements seem less like those of a stiff corpse. He had his robes off and I could see his entire body was covered in scars and tattoos. I was frozen solid in terror for a second, then when he started looking around, I knew he was looking for me. Whatever had happened to the others in that hut, he clearly wished upon me as well. To this day, I do not know how long I had been running before I made it back to town and blew my entire mission reward on buying the first horse I laid eyes upon and getting the hell away from that cursed place...."

[Gainsdalf the Whey]

Bronan lies beside the fire, head on hammer as usual as he listens to the stories of the others. Oramac surprisingly the only light hearted one. "You two make me feel like I just failed a lift." He says to Flo and Bacon, ribbing them a bit and trying to lighten the mood. "I've got plenty of stories like that too, but how about something a little lighter?" he asks smiling, the look on his face showing that he is remembering something with a soft fondness, not the usual battle lust that comes with his memories. He shifts around to make himself more comfortable, his hands folded on his stomach as he stares at the stars.

"Soon into following that damned golden bird, I found that it had led me a bit toward home. At one point I had ended up in a village that had a goblinkind problem. They'd always had infrequent run ins with the goblin and orc tribe, but it had gotten worse over the last year or two to the point that a day or two before I'd arrived, a farm had been burned to the ground, and the body of the farmer's daughter was nowhere to be found. They'd asked a few of us travelers to get them some pay back, and see if we could find her body in the process and return her to be buried with her family."

He grins, "Turns out I wasn't the only Brobarian there. A friend of mine from childhood, Glutia, was there as well. Gorgeous warrioress with a real knack for handling a spear." he looks to Bacon here and winks, trying to make the gnome blush. "She and I linked up with a human illusionist named Barthose who used something like what bacon does and hid us all behind a guise that made us look like orcs and he a goblin. We managed to get into the tribal dwellings, an extensive cave system in the hills a good bit outside town, with the story that our own tribe had been wiped out. Glutia and I had to beat the snot out of a few of their champions to make the case that we were worth the food, but we managed just fine."

"We got in and found that the girl was still alive, and they'd taken her back to be a sacrifice for some spell summoning a fire demon of some sort that they'd come to worship. Barthose explained it all, some complicated thing about needing young human blood for the magic. Anyway, they had started the ritual, drawing blood with a nasty gash on the girls arm, but leaving her alive for the demon when he arrived. He had a nice surprise when he came through the portal though, my hammer crashing into his face when he reached for her. Barthose started spouting about how the tribe now worshipped some rival demon then followed it up with a spell that made fake cheers from the crowd. This sent the demon it into a rage, spouting fire balls all over the place. In the chaos, Glutia grabbed the girl while I mowed down a path to the exit tunnel, which the illusionist collapsed behind us." he laughs at the memory.

"We got the girl back to town and healed up, then headed back to make sure the tribe wasn't going to exact revenge. Took us while to get back down into ritual cavern, but all we found was charred remains of about half the numbers we'd estimated, and that the others had all packed up and moved on. That demon did a better job than we'd ever have managed."

"We got paid pretty well, and Glutia accompanied me following the bird for a time as it was leading me the same direction she was going. By the time she'd left me, I learned just how well she handled a spear time and time again." another wink at Bacon here. "I ended up going home for a time a while later and bested her in battle." he says with a smile, fingering a deep scar across his deltoid. "Made her my wife, and left her with a belly. That was almost 2 years ago now..."

[cn3wton]

As the group sets out from the town Varren lies within the cart, wincing as each bump sent searing pain throughout his body. With shaking hands he pulls a small object form a pouch hidden within the folds of his clothing. "Wake me when we get there." he says before quickly swallowing what could only be some kind of medicine. Within a few short seconds he quickly passes out.

 

The adventurers make quick time, taking Flo's lead as they make their way down the path. Ever scanning the treeline for hidden attackers. They stop just short of nightfall, their intense concentration leaving them drained. They slip of the road leading the easy going ox from the path and making their best attempt to hide any sides of their detour. As the group does so they notice the tracks left by other travelers. They seem relatively fresh, determining that they are not far behind a rather large group. While they are unsure of whom they follow, based on the tracks many appear to be bound in some way.

 

Varren stirs as the group begins their tales. He listens, smiling to himself as he watches Oramac. The changes in the man where evident. Surely recent events had caused much turbulation, but Varren could not help but hope that Oramac would find a place among this tightly nit group. As they finish their stories he lets himself sleep once more.

 

That morning the group prepares to move out, planning an apporach and what they should do with Varren. At this point he cannot help but chime in. "You need'nt worry about me. Surely I am safe here, and I will be nothing but a burden from here on out." He places his back to the trunk of a tree, the cat quickly jumps into his lap. Varren places his maimed hand upon the feline. "See, its really your own safety you should be worried about. Please take care of yourselves."

 

After bidding farewell they make their way on foot along the path. After a short time they come upon the camp of those whom they followed. Refuse was spread about the place, broken drinkware and the place reaked of alcohol. The group was easily twenty strong.

 

After a short investigation of the camp they make their way through the trees in pursuit. They find them within a few hours. Five men stand upon a ledge carrying weapons. Mostly spears but one man holds a crossbow. A rickety rope bridge spans the chasm, Across it two more armed men stand. At their feet stakes are driven into the earth. From them ropes hang, and upon these ropes both men and women. Slaves, obviously they had been chiping away slowly at the cliff side, though now they cry in fear.

 

Bolts litter the cliff side around the slaves. On this side of the chasm the man with the bow reloads and takes aim. His bolt finds its place in the back of one of the hanging slaves, who screams are quickly cut short. The armed men laugh and one across the ways quickly severs one of the ropes hanging from the stake. The slave clutching the rope screams as she plummets. The other men look to him, the one nearest him yells out "You cut the wrong un y'idiot!" before bursting out into laughter again.

 

Just below the two armed men much has already been cleared away, revealing an entrance, a rope ladder leading to it with a pair of torches nested just inside.

[Terinatum]

"Friend? How can we comfort you? Do you have another tincture to aid travel?"

Flo questions Varren after the group speaks their mind about what to do with him. She can't see how bringing him further was wise, but she plans to go with consensus.

"You need'nt worry about me. Surely I am safe here, and I will be nothing but a burden from here on out. See, it's really your own safety you should be worried about. Please take care of yourselves."

Flo's opinion of Varren rises.

"Thank you, Varren for your understanding and bravery. It is my hope that you heal well and quickly."

She packs up the rest of her things and cleans up the camp for Varren. She leaves him fresh water and some rations. She turns to the group as they finish readying themselves.

"Come, let's makes ground."

She watches the sky through open patches in the canopy of trees. No unusual weather makes her confident they can get a good time. She stops the group quickly enough as they come upon the unknown party that they had been following. Nothing about the camp suggested anything good or organized. The reek of spirits, and not good ones, made Flo wrinkle her fine nose and curse whatever they may come across further ahead. The majority of the persons still seem to be gathered together in an unhealthy manner.

"Prisoners likely. Which side, I have no idea. I am interested in finding out. Come let's move."

Flo keeps the pace light, but purposeful. Combat or conversation will need them all alert and ready. There was no telling how much of a lead they had. She watches the sunlight slant further along the leaves as the hours pass. Then as suddenly as that, they come across the group. Nowhere had Flo seen such disregard for life of the helpless. The screaming was heartbreaking. She points to the far edge as another points out the crossbowman and the others on the closer side.

"What shall we do? I'm unsure how far the other edge is, but I'll wager I can get enough distance out of my arrows to create some pain for them instead of the folks hanging below."

Flo watches the scene, trying to figure out how to get closer or find a good vantage. Their drunkenness will help tremendously, but it won't do all the work for her. Arrows still have to make it over the chasm without hurting the captives.

Plans are murmured and set. They nod as a single unit and bust into action. Flo ducks into a shaded area off the path, letting Bronan and Oramac head to the ridge closest unhindered. The limited cover will get her a few extra benefits, but the distance isn't helpful. She looks to Bacon.

"Bacon, I'm going for the one with the knife."

She shifts her feet, planting them firmly in the rocky area and takes aim, pulling back hard as her rage boils to the surface. The man with the knife shifts to his right and Flo lets loose her first arrow, nocking the next with focused killer intent. The shield troubles Flo's next few shots, wasting arrows against it with none hitting their target.

"Damn shields."

Flo follows the man's movements, taking a deep breath and releasing only half. With a steady arm and the man chopping at the cable, she lets fly.

"There!"

The man stumbles back a step before dropping to his knees, hopefully with shock and dismay on his face. She looks for the other man who she sees as he rushes to pick up the axe and heads to the bridge. Two more arrows find their mark, but the wind takes the strength from them. Flo sees at least one bolt land true as well, but the stubborn human monster still cuts the remaining cable, plummeting the bridge into a useless tangle. Flo growls and nocks another arrow, ready to put a hole in his head, when Bacon's next bolt finds its mark and finishes the job. The death of the man's grotesque laughter brings some relief to Flo.

"Thank you, Bacon. Now, how to get to them."

Bacon is still in the fight on the near side so Flo makes as much progress as she can getting to the captives. Unsure how to proceed, she checks the area again, keeping an eye on the fight above her.

[Oramac]

As the group heads out, Oramac meets Varrens eyes and nods; a silent sign of respect and friendship. 

 

Heading into the woods, Oramac feels anxious and excited.  He’s not sure what they’ll find, but wants to prove his worth, both to himself and the others.  He follows Flo and the rest of the group as they discover the remains of the bandits camp.  Oramac can’t help but feel disgusted by the sad state they left it in.  He never cared much for all that druidic junk, but he still tried to keep the forest as clean as he could when he was there. 

 

Moving past the camp, they found the bandits crossing the bridge, obviously drunk, and tormenting their captives.  Even as Oramac thought about a plan, one of the bandits cut loose a captive, who screamed as he fell to his death.  Right there, Oramac knew he couldn’t sit idly by and watch this happen.  Sure, he’d killed people before; even killed a few in their sleep.  But he always knew who it was and what danger they represented.  Not to mention the atrocities most had committed while they were awake.  These hostages were quite obviously harmless. 

 

Making a plan, the group gets into position.  Oramac sneaks up behind one of the bandits while Flo and Bacon line up their shots, and Bronan does his Bro thing.  Behind the bandit, Oramac thinks this will be easy, but unfortunately doesn’t notice the small rocks littering the ground.  Just as he raises his dagger to strike, he slips on the rock, letting out a short yelp of surprise.  Hearing this, the second bandit turns and fires his crossbow at Oramac, narrowly missing as Oramac falls and catches himself.  Thankfully, the bolt hits the bandit in front of Oramac just as he makes a strike of his own.  

 

“Ughâ€, Oramac moans as an attack from the first bandit lands. 

 

Turning towards the second attacker, Oramac deftly dodges and weaves through the rest of his attacks, but can’t land one of his own.  Seeing Bronan rush forward and distracting the bandits, Oramac silently thanks the Brobarian for his timing. 

 

Spinning low to avoid another attack, he grabs the bolt out of the first bandits back and, as the bandit is distracted by some shiny colors, stabs the bandit in the throat with the bolt.  The bandit goes down, clutching his neck in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding.

 

“That’s what your kind gets for killing innocents†Oramac thinks.

 

Turning back to the other bandit and seeing Bronan wound him, stumbling, towards the cliff, Oramac sweeps low to take out his legs just as Bronan shoves him headlong off the cliff.  

[DarK_RaideR]

"Say, boys, ever met a fairy?" Bacon whispers to himself sarcastically as he invokes the powers of his blood from concealment. Iridiscent balls of light begin flaring above the bandits' heads, swirling and dancing in a way that's both fascinating and menacing at the same time. The half-drunk men take a moment to set their sights straight and understand what's going on, providing enough of a distraction for the gnome's allies to move into position.

 

Although he times the shot with Flo's, it's not as surgical in precision and hits wide. The elf's arrow is enough to wake up the bandits and one of them chops a line of the bridge with an axe. Realizing what's at stake, Bacon quickly reverts to what he does best and summons the earthly powers to rapidly shoot roots of the ground, pinning the men on the spot. That's just the opening Flo needs to finish one off, as Bacon smiles in achknowledgement of their beautiful teamwork once more. However, his smile is frozen solid as the other man cuts off the rope and sends the bridge down into the chasm. The gnome's eyes narrow into murderous slits as he reloads his crossbow. Moments later, the bandit isn't laughing anymore, a bolt buried deep in his throat.

 

Spinning around to survey the scene next to him, the sorcerer sees Bronan, Oramac and what's left of the bandit force. Sparks gather on the tips of his fingers, glittering with all the colors of the rainbow. Bacon shakes as he holds back the magical energy, waiting for the right time. Positioning is critical if he doesn't want to risk disabling his friends. As soon as he sees his chance, he lets go and his hands explode into a shimmering fountain of color.

[Gainsdalf the Whey]

As the travel Bronan brings up the rear, having an uncanny ability to sense attacks coming from behind even with eyes forward makes him next to impossible to surprise. Plus, he wants to keep an eye on Varren, not completely believing that he’s out cold. When they settle in for the night, he does so about a quarter of the way around the fire from Varren and Oramac, far enough to make it harder for them to sneak up on him in his sleep, close enough that he’s not blinded by the fire as he keeps an eye on them.

When they finally catch up to the group that had been ahead of them, Bronan is at first split. His own people enslaved those of defeated tribes for a time. It was the price of losing. That is not what he has a problem with. It is when he sees them maliciously take the lives of the slaves for no good reason that he is angered. Less hands for the war effort meant less chances of winning. He is enraged at the site, and after quickly developing a battle plan, he lets it embrace him and charges across the open ground toward the 5 men, arms pumping with shield strapped to one arm and his morningstar clutched in the other fist.

The men turn to him with a surprised look, but at that point he is already half way to them and before they can completely absorb what they are seeing, he throws his weight behind his shield and slams it into the man holding the crossbow. The exchange of momentum halts Bronan’s progress and keeps him from running himself off the ledge, at the same time lifting the man from his feet, full of wounds from his shield spikes, and sending him screaming to the very fate Bronan had avoided.

The man to his right recovers and stabs at Bronan with his short sword, nicking the Brobarian in the meat of his back on his weapon hand side. Bronan growls at the prick and spins, backhanding the man across the face. The sounds of crushing bone and flesh precede the man spinning to the ground motionless. Bronan lets the momentum of the swing carry him back around to face the two men fighting Oramac on the other side. He takes a wide swing and catches the shoulder of one, while the other ducks just in time. They both turn to him, now with attackers on both sides, and Oramac takes the opportunity to stab one in the neck. The last goes over the side quickly enough between Oramac and Bronan.

As the Brobarian catches his breath, he walks to the edge of the cliff and examines the situation. 30 feet is a bit too far to jump across. Instead, he hauls the bridge, now hanging from the side, up and ties the end of his 50 foot rope from his bag to what was the far end. He then yells to one of the slaves to catch the other end, and throws the rope across. Once the slaves have it, he figures they can haul on the rope, pull the bridge back across, and retie it off.