Oathbound [IC]

[Ardurious]

Night settles over Norefast like a shroud, velvety blackness broken up by occasional pockets of torchlight. Street lamps are few and far between in the tiny country town. A hundred miles to the west lies the merchant city of Land's End - more a massive trading post than a true city. Though small, Norefast is the only major settlement between Land's End and the rest of civilized Realta, though for a single reason only;

It had a tavern.

The Ragged Hag wasn't grand - in all honesty, it was hardly even nice - but it served ale and offered rooms to the tired souls who wandered through, provided they had the coin to afford it.

Six such souls had come to the inn this night, road-weary from long journeys. Some had come from Land's End, others from the smaller settlements dotting the countryside. One had seemed to materialize from the dense overgrowth on the far edges of the town. She had drawn interesting glances as she had entered the tavern, to be sure.

But all had passed under the same sign as they had entered - a worn-out carving of a woman, draped in rags and swaddling an unseen babe - and all melted away within the tavern crowd, drinking ale, singing bawdy songs, and resting sore feet.

Few noticed the inscriotion beneath the woman and her child, though. Few saw the sprawling letters carved into the wood, perhaps older than the image itself. Cryptic words for those with the mind to ponder them, and meaningless babble for those without the wit.

Let your words be your guide.
Beware the promises you make.

[Gavran]

Corran Makersfield

Seated at a table in the center of the Ragged Hag, behind a small stack of coins and beaming brightly at the seemingly disgruntled men getting up from the table, the halfling divides his winnings into two piles. He flags down a server as she walks past.

"Pardon me miss," he says, deftly sliding a stack of coins to the side of the table closest to her "I'd like a fine meal, a clean room for the night and..." he slides a few more coins into the pile in front of the waitress before raising his voice and finishing "a drink for any man who calls himself a friend of Corran Makersfield!"

Finished with the woman, Corran leans back in his chair and seems to become oblivious to the world around him.

Well, I wasn't able to find Dirgle's cousin, but at least I can sleep in a proper bed with a proper meal in me tonight... thanks to those friendly saps and a little help from Hevaan.

After making the arduous journey, Corran wasn't certain that leaving the Gilded Golem behind had been the right choice, but he couldn't shake the feeling that Norefast still had something to offer.

[18th Avenger]

"Row, me bully boys! We're in a hurry, boys! We've got a long way to go!"

Then the singers burst out in laughter, and the scruffy man with the magistrate's scale on his one pauldron couldn't make out the lyrics, even as he whistled along anyway. In reflection, Galen thought it was strange, hearing a sailor's shanty in a tavern far from any dock or even a sizable body of water.

But what might have taken the cake was the halfling standing on the tabletop who was positively showering money everywhere, to the delight of the Hag's patrons. It didn't take a magistrate's bodyman to know that the little man's act simply invited trouble. Galen's master, Magistrate Chandler, had been in a mood when he sent any of his deputy to the sticks (in this case, Norefast). Given that the fighter was in the man's bad books after a sting gone wrong (ending with Galen punching the perp's jaw into powder), he could have taken the hint and taken it easy.

But trouble didn't take breaks. Even those thirty-minute ones Land's End deputies got to take their lunch breaks. In the end, Galen made a choice.

"I call him friend!" He shouted to the barman, who was busy pouring drinks. Amidst the joyous nightly tumult that was the closest thing to a night spot out and around, the scruffy-faced fighter started to watch the patrons for any signs of unwanted aggression.

[Wymmerdann]

Ishniel

Beware the promises you make. The words weighed on Ishniel’s mind.

They played at the edges of uncertain memories, toying with them. She was used to this near-constant feeling of déjà vu that could be triggered by the strangest of things. The tilting laughter of barmaid, the cascade of a waterfall, the inscription on the sign of a roadside in. The ring of steel on stone.

Ishniel sighed, pulled down the cowl of her traveller’s cloak, and took a sip from her glass of wine. She would have preferred fresh water, but it was always a risk in an unknown village, and Norefast was all but unknown to her. She had selected a small table to the edge of the room for herself, though near enough the hearth that she need not fear the chill. She judged it safe and sensible to judge the mood of a place from the outside before hurling oneself into the fray of everyday life.

She turned to her companion from the road, a sensible enough fellow once you got past the passing strangeness of his appearance. Ishniel glanced toward the Halfling, who has just announced his identity to the room,
"I wonder ", she muttered to herself, "if the prize for the halfling’s friendship is a mug of ale, what might be the eventual cost?"

[Nightgaun7]

Artok stomps in late in the evening, shaking rain and mist-water from his shaggy head and wringing moisture from his cloak. He undoes the large iron clasp in the shape of a wolf's head and puts it on a hook near the fire to dry, revealing a rather large axe. Seating himself by the fire, he taps one of the serving girls on the shoulder as she passes and asks for a large bucket of water.

[Sabishii]

Alyda

Something in the wind blowing through her wild locks that night called Alyda to leave the forest trails and venture towards a pocket of patchy lights not too far from the wood's edge. As she walked through empty unmarked fields the breeze pulled at her legs seemingly urging her forward. She wondered if this was the work of the Primal Beast. When she entered the village proper, Alyda felt many eyes upon her and heard a few whispered speculative remarks and smelt the faintest beginnings of fear. The humans kept their distance as Alyda, guided by the wind, found her way to the Ragged Hag. The sign meant nothing to her. The rowdy ruckus that pierced the stillness of the night through the coarse wooden walls of the inn was not inviting to Alyda and she hesitated at the door.

"What do you suppose the Primal Spirit has waiting for us in there, Lysander?" she whispered to the tiny colorful frog whose head peaked from her long hair. He made no reply, but he never had anyway. The wind tugged at her again and with a sigh she obeyed entering the pub.

The noise made her ears itch and there were more people about than she would have liked. She found an empty table in the corner and sat watching, waiting for something to happen, waiting for the Primal Beast to show itself, to show her why she had come.

[Ardurious]

Night draws on within the tavern. Mugs of watery ale are poured and spilled, men wave shaky fists at one another over drunkenly-perceived insults, stories and songs begin loud before trailing off and becoming lost in the din. Patrons begin filing out as the hearth grew colder. Not even the halfling's charity can keep them from their beds.

All is quiet. The cleric sits by the heart, reading a book in the dying light, while the halfling and the human converse at their table. The minotaur has grown bored of the peace and the quiet and is anxiously pacing about the room. The elf sits perched on her chair in the corner of the large hall as if waiting for something. A scant few patrons remain besides them, talking amongst themselves as they finish their final tankards of ale.

Suddenly, the door at the far end of the tavern swings open. It hits the wall with a loud thunk! In storm three men, each clad in leather and fur to protect against the night's cold. Scowls sit upon their ragged faces like wounds as they scan the tavern hall. After a moment, the man at the head of the group finds what he is searching for.

"There she is!" he bellows. The two with him turn to the corner where the man is pointing. Their scowls deepen as they spot the elf. "She's the one what's been attacking hunters in the forest! Damn-near clawed me mate's eyes out the other night, she did!"

He begins making his way across the room towards the elf. In his haste he bumps into the rack set next to the fire, toppling it and scattering the various cloaks it holds across the tavern floor.

Galen You recognize the man and his friends from several posters you had seen in the local constable's station earlier in the day. They're wanted poachers.

[Nightgaun7]

Artok ceases his pacing to watch this intrusion, eyes thinning and nostrils flaring as his cloak is dumped on the ground when the rack is knocked over. "Mind my cloak, fool. If it be burned, I'll want recompense."

[18th Avenger]

"Maybe if you weren't hunting off-season, your friend would be prettier." Galen downed the last of his mug of watery ale in a quick gulp and set it on the table in front of Corran. "Pardon me, Master Makersfield. Duty calls."

Galen stood to his full height and cracked his knuckles. While he'd left his two hand axes with their smiles buried in a scarred hunk of wood outside, the magistrate's boy didn't need them as he rolled his neck. The scruffy human in battered scale armor, though not as scruffy as the three hunters who stomped in, moved to bar their way. He grinned at them, that universal smile that hinted at potential unpleasantness at any target. "Y'all know there's a reward for poachers, right?" Galen asked in a loud voice, bringing up one of Land's Ends few well-loved sayings; money spends very nicely, no matter the paymaster.

Intimidate
[roll0]

[Sabishii]

Alyda

Alyda growls at the men as they approach her and grips her staff tightly preparing to fight if need be. She sniffs the air at the word "hunter" and her nostrils fill with the scent of animal blood, not particularly fresh or strong, but there. "Your law holds no power in the Wrathwood, human. Your murderous presence under her eaves is a taint and aversion to the ancient treaties erected between our races centuries ago. So don't you dare come to me in anger when it is you, human, that is the aggravator."

[Ardurious]

The lead man pauses as the Galen steps in his way. Those behind him halt as well. They each stand taller than the fighter by a few inches, but seem to shrink before his imposing physique. The man in front turns to the two behind him, concern on his face. They move uneasily in place, staring to one another and back again.

"C'mon boys," the lead hunter says. He attempts to mask his wavering tone, but fails to do so. "They ain't worth lur time." His friends seem to breathe a collective sigh of relief. The three turn, a wary eye on the fighter, and make for the door. The hunter bringing up the rear makes a point of stepping on the minotaur's large cloak as he walks.

Something hanging from the lead hunter's belt catches the dying light of the fire and reflects it back into the room.

Perception DC 12 You spot something white attached to the hunter's belt by a crude iron ring. It's about three inches long and two wide.
Nature DC 14 (must have passed Perception check)It appears to be a white scale. It has the shape and texture of a dragon's scale, though it looks damaged.

[Nightgaun7]

Artok moves towards the trio. "A man with his friends in front of him shouldn't make an enemy of someone behind him."

[Gavran]

Corran Makersfield

Still seated, Corran nods to himself.

I knew my friend here could handle himself... still, these men came here with a clear intent, it's strange that they'd leave so easily.

He keeps one eye on the group as they walk away but speaks to the elven woman. "Almost took a man's eye out, did you? I've spent some time guarding the livestock back home, and the most exciting --" He abruptly stops talking as something on one of the hunters catches his eye.

A trader came to the clan with something just like that once... he said it was dragon scale... but how could these frightened men be dragonslayers? There had to be something else going on here.

[18th Avenger]

The flash caught Galen's eye and he couldn't help but quickly home in on it, a practice from the old days. An eyebrow rose as he made out its shape. It looked like a...

"Dragonscale?" he mouthed. From what he'd understood, the trio would have been strong and consistent contenders for awards like 'Idiot of the Year'. But then again, given how dangerous hunting dragons were, the magistrate's bodyman couldn't think of a more fitting stereotype for a dragon hunter. Then Galen put it out of his mind and merely thought that they might have stolen it from the original owner. Or found it off his or her body.

Then the minotaur who'd been hoarding his own table stood up when one of the poachers ground a foot into the cloak. Galen sensed trouble and quickly moved through the ground to put a halt to that.

"Later, later!" He hissed urgently, putting his strength up to the task of keeping the horned warrior (what else could minotaurs be?) back.

[Nightgaun7]

"Who are you, and why do you bar my way?" Artok rumbles, stomping one hoof and pushing the hand of the human away. Steel-tipped horns gleam in the firelight as the minotaur lowers his head.

[Wymmerdann]

Ishniel

Ishniel glanced over at the newcomers. Having failed to pick a fight with the outlandish looking elven woman, and the tough looking human, they seemed to have antagonized the minotaur, who had until then kept largely to himself.

"Isandra give me patience. Some men just want a good kicking." She muttered.

Taking a last, almost nostalgic sip of her wine, she stood up, exited the small booth, and picked up her walking stave from where it had rested beside her seat.

She spoke out, reasonable and self assured, to everyone in the room "Come brothers, there is no need for malice or violence. There's more than enough of a fire to share, and fare to fill our bellies from a hard day's travel. If you've differences to resolve, then do so beyond the roof of a generous host who's done you no ill."

[18th Avenger]

Galen planted his feet. He'd been told he was stronger than the average Land's End denizen and took pains to maintain his strength. So when the minotaur tried to push past, he found that the human was only more immovable.

"There's no need for trouble, bucko," he hissed, face coloring with the effort of holding back. "Listen to the lady. And there might be something we ain't seeing 'cause of the dragonscale on pretty boy. Just gotta be smart..."

[Ardurious]

The hunters at the door have tentative hands on their axes, eyes jumping nervously from the human, to the minotaur, to the cleric and back again. They have yet to draw their weapons, though they seem on the brink.

"Look, we don't want no troubke," one of the hunters inthe rear says. Fear is evident in his raspy voice.

"Shut it!" The leader of the group hisses to him.

"No! I ain't dyin' for Merl!" The frightened hunter shoots back. "If he wants this elven wench driven off, he can damn well do it 'imself!"

The lead hunter turns to him, seeming on the verge of drawing on his own comrade.

[18th Avenger]

"Oh, for Kord's sake," Galen hissed. He let the minotaur go and turned back to the trio. "You draw steel and, so help me, I will let the minotaur go and watch him tear you apart!" The magistrate's bodyman pointed at the leader and shouted. "I was gonna let you off with a warnin', maybe a fee if it wasn't your first offense, but if a weapon finds your hand then I'm takin' whatever's left of you in!" The hospitality of the Land's End holding cells (and those of the surrounding areas) was quite reputed.

Intimidate
[roll0]
There was a note of command in his voice now. "Now we're gonna calm down and you're gonna tell me about this Merl. If I like what I hear, that might mean leniency from the magistrate."

The brown-haired human looked back at the minotaur. "And if you start something, you're gonna be next. So calm. Down." There was stern promise in Galen's voice, even though he was quite aware that the minotaur could very well tear him apart in the time it took him to line up a punch.

[Nightgaun7]

I see it. But none trample the cloak of the Iron Wolves lightly. Soaked in the blood of better men. Artok tosses his head and then exhales deeply. But you may finish with them before I start. The minotaur glares at the hunter who trampled his cloak, a red gleam lighting his eyes.

[Ardurious]

The hunters look warily at the fighter, except for one who tries to meet the minotaur's eyes. One behind the leader whispers something and the other nods. The leader of the group makes a quick motion with his hand and, with one final look around the tavern, darts out the door. The other two follow suit. The last one out slams the dolr behind him. A loud crash! is heard outside the door.

[Nightgaun7]

The human turned and rushed for the door. Artok followed. The human tried pushing against the door, but it was blocked. As he put his shoulder to it, Artok reached over him and helped shove. The door ground back a little, but it was blocked by something. "Back away, human. I will make a way for you to give chase." Artok drew his massive axe, took up a high grip, and with a few short chops weakened the wood around the hinges. "Push now." The man lowered his shoulder and rammed the door hard, and the wood splintered. The door fell back, then slid down. Artok stepped out into the darkness.


Hope you don't mind me fluffing those two Strength rolls.

[Sabishii]

Alyda

Alyda notes the dragonscale, but finds it of only mild interest as a hint to the possible strength of the men before her. Young dragons are such brutes. It probably provoked its own death. As sad as the death of any creature is it probably had been the young fool's own fault and I cannot so easily condemn those men for it.

The intrusion of the human was most surprising. In her brief experience of humans, his behavior was peculiarly selfless. Aylda feels a faint blush warm her cheek, flattered by the strange man's concern. This feeling quickly fades as attention shifts to the minotaur and his cloak. Finally the hunters flee blocking their path or so Alyda assumes from the actions of the man and bull. She walks quietly up to the door anxious to be free of the confines of the inn and back in the fresh air. She wonders if perhaps the hunters' appearance means another camp lies nearby and resolves to follow the men once the way is cleared. With a hint of sheepishness Alyda addresses the human.

"Thank you for intervening. She smiles a little to be sincere, but then adds a little more pridefully "Though I'm sure it would have come to nothing I couldn't handle." She smiles again and then steps back to look around the room to see if perhaps there's another way out.

Perception: [roll0]

[Gavran]

Corran Makersfield

As the leading men successfully take down the door, Corran looks in the direction of the innkeeper.

I'd better get out of here before he starts looking for someone to blame...

Hurrying over to the group at the door, Corran gets their attention with a shout "Wait! Friends, follow these men if you must, but let's be smart about it! I propose that if you chase them to their camp, we meet back --" he glances back towards the tavern's owner "-- across the street from here to regroup before anyone assaults their lair. Sir Emrody, would your magistrate send you into a den of brigands without backup? As for myself, I'm not much for the chase - but what I can do is ask around to see if someone knows where they're set up in case they elude you."

Corran slips between the larger folk and heads towards the exit.

Streetwise (to gather information about the hunters)
[roll0]

[Ardurious]

The Chase

Artok steps out into the darkness and takes a deep breath of night air. Galen pushes quickly past him and rushes off after the hunters. With a shake of his shaggy head, the minotaur charges after him.

The elf spots the fighter and the minotaur through an open window in the rear of the tavern. The fighter easily catches up to the hunter bringing up the rear and punches him in the base of his skull as he runs. The man crumples to the ground like a sack of rocks and the fighter continues to chase after the others. The minotaur has finally caught up and is quickly passing him.

Alyda decides to join the chase. She gracefully leaps to the windowsill and - with the speed of a cat - falls flat on her face in the dirt outside the window. She is quickly back on her feet and chasing after the fighter and the minotaur. Spots dance before her eyes and she hardly makes it ten yards before she has to stop. She squeezes her eyes shut and drops to a knee on the ground. Damn, must have been a rock outside the window...

The pair of hunters have reached the outskirts of the small town. The minotaur had handily closed the distance to one of them. "Take 'im down, Shaggy!" the fighter bellows. The minotaur lowers his head and, with a sudden burst of speed, slams the hard top of his skull into the base of the hunter's spine. The man goes flying high into the air before landing hard on the ground. He tumbles head over heels several times before coming to a stop some twenty feet away. Galen winces as he sprints past.

Only the leader is left now, but he has just reached the forest.

Galen barrels into the trees after him, keeping close on his heels. The hunter picks his way quickly through the thick undergrowth, deftly dodging low-hanging branches and leaping swiftly over exposed roots. It takes everything Galen has to maintain his speed and balance. Suddenly, the sleeve of his scale coat snags on a large branch. The heavy branch cracks under the force of the fighter's movement, but slows him considerably. He roars in anger and grabs hold of it, pulling with all his might. The branch breaks loose, along with the heavy limb it is attached to. With another roar, Galen hurls the massive branch through the trees.

The limb crashes its way through the heavy foliage, carving a path straight towards the hunter. He turns his head to the source of the clatter just in time to take the full brunt of the branch directly across his back. He tumbles to the ground, the heavy limb atop him. He tries feebly to escape, but the weight is too much. He lies whimpering by the time Galen reaches him.

"I think you broke me back!" the hunter cries out when the fighter approaches. The fighter quickly goes about lifting the limb off of him. He tosses it to the side and hauls the hunter to his feet.

"Your back's not broken, idiot." Galen pushes the hunter forward, back towards the treeline. The man stumbles slightly but remains on his feet. "March, bub. Back to the tavern, and no sudden moves. I'd hate to have to floor you again."

By the time the fighter and his prisoner reach the tavern, the minotaur has returned with the other two. One lies on the floor, blood and drool leaking from the corner of his mouth and puddling on the floor beneath him, and the other sits in a chair in the center of the room nervously rubbing the back of his neck. The minotaur stands between them and the door, thick arms crossed over his barrel chest. He grunts at Galen and the hunter as they walk in.

Alyda steps into the tavern a moment later, rubbing a knot on her head. The cleric sits at a table several feet away from the captured hunters. She sips calmly from a glass of wine. Her githzerai companion keeps a cautious eye on the men and the minotaur. He speaks quietly to the cleric.

Corran

Corran had left the tavern soon after Galen had sprinted out. He decides to head straight for the magistrate's offices. A sleepy-looking man answers on the third knock. Corran smiles broadly at him.

"I'm sorry to disturb you so late, sir. My friends and I were attacked at the tavern earlier this evening by a group of poachers. Last I saw, two of my friends were chasing them towards the forest." Corran adopts a concerned look. "These men looked dangerous and I have no idea where my friends might've gotten off to."

"I knew those bastards were up to no good out there!" the magistrate sighs tiredly. He removes the floppy sleeping cap from his head and grabs a heavy leather belt from a table by the door. He steps out into the night, closing the door behind him and donning the belt. "Ye head back t' the tavern. I'll rouse a few o' my guardsmen and meet ye back there."

With a broad grin and a "Thank you!", Corran rushes back off to the tavern. The magistrate sighs once more and trudges off to the barracks.

[Tohek]

Zanarkand

The survivor sat in silence at a small table by the hearth. His companion had chosen well; from here he could see nearly the whole room and put a wall at his back. There had been plenty to watch.

Even as his companion stood and addressed the brewing storm in their midst, Zanarkand reflected upon her words spoken earlier.

"If the prize for the halfling’s friendship is a mug of ale, what might be the eventual cost?"

Zanarkand knew the answer: steel. The dissent amongst the hunters heralded what would surely be a night of conflict. They do not know discipline. Still, these hunters were armed with fears and laws, and that means trouble for travelers.

"The crisis waxes. Shall we intervene again?"
Zanarkand looks at Ishniel as he speaks. They had stepped in as surrogate marshals before, in other towns. The earlier contentions had not known steel, but this new sky grew ominous.

[18th Avenger]

Before they stared breaking the door down, Galen gave her a cool look. "Ma'am, I'm gonna forget you were dispensing the vigilante justice, makin' you a person of interest. And I've a feelin' we're gonna need each other when this is all-" He never got to finish. The 'hunters' fled and attempted to bar the door.

As he and the bull-horned warrior attempted to break the door down, the halfling, Corran, suggested that they get back up and hound the thieves to their lair. "With the elf, we track 'em down no problem. And as for back up," Galen grinned. "I usually am the back up."

And with that, the minotaur and the human broke the gate down and chased the hunters into the night...

After the Chase

Glaen shoved the leader into back into the bar before taking a seat and blowing out an exhausted breath. "Well, y'all can forget about that leniency." He said to the two conscious poachers. "But maybe if you talk, I can talk the magistrate down from a hanging to life imprisonment. Your call."

[Nightgaun7]

After a few minutes, Artok asks Galen "Hanging the penalty for men that break the nobles' fool laws about hunting? Be there no headsmen?" He thumbs the edge of his axe idly.

[Sabishii]

Alyda

Rubbing her newly acquired bruise, Alyda walks around to the front of the tavern to be met by the knightly man from before carrying one of the hunters over his shoulder. She quickly swipes some hair over the bruise lest she show weakness to these humans. She follows him in and listens as he address the captives. As he finishes and the Minotaur shows his disdain, Alyda addresses no one in particular but speaks loudly enough for all in the room to hear.

"Take only that which you need lest the Wrathwood take you." She turns to Galen. "Vigilante, perhaps, from your view Sir Knight, but in the Wrathwood there are no such human laws to cast me as... vigilante. These men are forfeit to the judgment of the Wrathwood as are all that trek under her eaves." she says waving her arms towards the three men. "So it is spoken in the wind, and in the treaties signed centuries ago between your king and my people. It is not your place to persecute." She pauses for a moment to let her words sink in before continuing.
Strip them of their armor and weapons. Blindfold them and bind them and I shall lead them into the woods where I will leave them to await the judgment of the Mother-Forest. Come with me if you must, Sir Knight, to satisfy yourself that their blood does not stain my hands though I can assure you that judgment by my claw will be swifter and more kind." With that she leans on the edge of the nearest table waiting for the man's response. Though, she already knows what she will do next.

[Gavran]

Corran Makersfield

Corran re-enters the tavern and performs a double take as he spots the group, hunters captured, sitting at the bar.

"Well, then. Remind me not to ever try outrunning you fellows. Not that I ever had doubts in you! Which is why I brought the authorities here to see to it these men are reprimanded. Yes, things have gone quite as I suspected they would." He turns to the man behind the counter. "These are the men responsible for the damage to your door. I'm sure that your damages will be accounted for in their... atonement."

The halfling clambers on top of a bar stool and hops from it to the counter, patrolling back and forth in front of the captured men.

"Lawman, if you need any assistance ... gathering information from these men, I do have a tendency towards getting what I want. I'm sure they'll be eager to find their way to my good side."

I do still have some questions of my own, after all...

[Ardurious]

The two consckous hunters had been seated in chairs in the center of the tavern, backs to one another, bound with thick rope. The magistrate and his men had yet to arrive.

"We ain't tellin' you nothing!" the lead hunter spits. A scowl sits upon his face alongside smears of dirt and blood. His eyes are narrow with anger, and - perhaps - fear. His conscious ally looks far less sure of himself. His eyes jump back and forth from the burly minotaur and the halfling pacing about on the bar to his fellow drooling into the floorboards. He may very well be dead.

"We don't need no leniency!" the lead hunter continues. "You don't know who we are! You picked a fight wif' da wrong group! Once we're outta this, Merl n' the boys'll burn this whole place do-" His threats are cut short as a fist connects with his jaw. He and his chair nearly topple to the ground.

[Wymmerdann]

Ishniel

Ishniel was not by trade a woodsman, tracker, or pursuer of felons. She knew that in the dark, in unfamiliar territory, it would be foolhardy, if not dangerous, for her to pursue the poachers. She had waited in the inn for the others’ inevitable return, considering the facts as they had been presented to her and discussing it with Zanarkand.

She did not like the direction of the discussion; the presumption of these strangers to do violence within the borders of a village. She approached the bar where they were sitting, measuring her words carefully.

"Friends, it seems to me that death is an overly harsh punishment for these men."

"They may have indeed hunted illegally, in contravention of treaty and local custom, but we have not yet heard any explanation from them. Their circumstances may, on some level, excuse or justify their actions. It seems premature to speak of death or extradition."

She glanced toward Artok, who still held his axe menacingly. "Foolishness. Of that, I grant you, these men are doubtless guilty. Violent or murderous intent, she gestured to the leader, "some of them perhaps should answer to such a charge. But again, death seems an unnecessarily extreme punishment. What of their wives or families, who rely on them for protection and food? They are not immediately local to the township itself I presume? Thus they cannot rely on its guards for protection, or its market for produce."

Ishniel now turned to Corran, the halfing. "I thank you friend, for your clearheaded action. This is a local matter and it is for the local magistrate to give due consideration to the matter at hand". She did not turn to Galen, but glanced at him before remarking quietly, "As I do not recall the authority of Land’s End reaching this far".

Finally, she turned to face the elven woman. "For all that I have said, what I heard from these men hinted at a lingering threat to your person. I am not a warrior of blade or bow, but if you seek to discover the root of this threat to your safety, I offer my services. All I ask is due consideration for the possibility of mitigating circumstances before condemning these men before the magistrate, or abandoning them to the ravages of primal spirits."

[18th Avenger]

Galen blinked a couple of times. Eventually, it might have dawned on him, what the elf was saying.

So, he started to laugh. A good belly laugh that echoed in the silence of the tavern. He pounded the tabletop in mirth. A couple of times, he even pointed at the elf and whooped out in joy. It seemed like he would finally calm down when he blew a raspberry and started laughing all over again.

Eventually, Galen did stop laughing and pop the raving hunter with a hard one across the face. Shaking his fist, he turned to the elf. "First, if I was a knight, did you think I'd be sitting here drinking watered ale and chasin' felons in the woods? Nah, I'd be in my palace, slurpin' dwarven brew and romancin' rich bints and lettin' my footmen mete out the justice." The tough man chuckled and let his expression drift to the fantasy.

"And second," his face grew stern as he regarded the elf. "We may be out in the sticks, but we ain't ruled by nature. If anythin', rules got to mean more out here. Else folk'd be murderin' each other and chalking it up to 'survival of the fittest'. Law's here so even if the gods ain't watchin'," A scarred hand tapped the magistrate's shield on his pauldron even as he set the leader back upright. "People won't have to be scared 'cause we're watchin'." He neglected to mention that his being here was highly incidental.

The fighter turned back to the felons and dusted off a speck of dust on the man's tunic. "And guess what, handsome? Merl ain't here. We are. So you're gonna start talkin' or there's either gonna be a hangin', a beheadin' or a letter to the Iron Hill to ready accommodation for three."

[Ardurious]

The lead hunter's eyes widen momentarily, then his scowl returns.

"You don't...don't scare me, dog!" he stammers halfway through, his gruff voice failing. "The king's justice don't reach this far. Don't nobody care 'bout us out here." His face falters.

"Enough, Den!" the second hunter shouts suddenly. "I don't want my 'ead rollin' down the Iron Hill! I don't care 'bout Merl! He's been good t'me, but not enough I'm willin' to die for 'im!" He seems on the verge of tears. "Look mate, we 'ad a good thing goin', but I'd rather go home to me wife n' boys than keep huntin' in the forests." He turns his head, trying to look at the hunter seated behind him. "Look, I'm sorry 'bout...'bout what 'appened, but tough-talkin' your way into a noose ain't gonna show nothin' to the dogs. They don't care 'bout us. They proved that."

The lead hunter's head droops on his neck. He breathes a long sigh. "Alright, alright. I'll tell ya whatever ya want to know." He doesn't lift his head, and his eyes appear to be closed.

The man on the ground groans loudly, as if announcing to the room that he is, in fact, still alive.

[Nightgaun7]

Artok rests the butt of his axe on the ground and waits.

[18th Avenger]

"I thank ye for your cooperation, Den. I'll try to see if you only get three years in the slammer, an' only for the poaching. But your friend there," Galen nodded at the man who convinced his leader. "He gets one for being smart. And if you play nice, I'll try to get y'all off earlier for good behavior."

"Now," Galen began as he squatted in front of Den. "Start from the beginning. Who's Merl? And does he have anything to do with the wyrmscale at your belt?"

[Sabishii]

Alyda

Alyda glares down Galen's chortles with a straight face.

"First," she says mockingly. "Do you not fight to uphold the laws of your country? To uphold the honor of your king? If not then why do you wear those pauldrons?" She gestures to the metal adorning the man's shoulders. "You are a knight if only in creed and not in disposition. Regardless I meant only to be polite and refrain from referring to you simply as human which currently in my vocabulary is akin to scum."

"Secondly, these men" she says gesturing to the bound hunters. "Crimes were not committed here in your human kingdom, but under the canopy of the Wrathwood where your human laws do not exist." She turns to Galen again. "You are correct that here in this community there exist 'rules', but as I have made abundantly clear these men are forfeit to the laws of a land beyond your jurisdiction. Their fate is not yours or any lawmen's decision. To argue this point with me is futile."

She crosses her arms and stares down Galen for a few seconds before turning to the woman. "I appreciate the offer, but consider the converse of this situation. Would the humans be lenient if the animals of the Wrathwood banded together to hunt down the humans and their spawn to take their hides and bones for decoration, for trophies, for wants and not needs? No, I think not. So why should they be given the same?"

Alyda let's her words ring in the air, cold as steel.

[Ardurious]

The hunter clears his throat, drawing the room's attention back to him. "Merl is...was our commanding officer. We were soldiers in the king's army. Archers," his face remains down, eyes closed, "the ni- err, all of us, I mean. Somefin' bad went down up north and the lot of us was branded deserters." He spits disdainfully, a mixture of blood and saliva.

"They ain't kind to deserters up there." the hunter tied behind Den says quietly. He looks up, giving a good look at his face for the first time. He is young, barely twenty if even that. Something seems to be wrong with his left eye; the light reveals a jagged line running through it length-ways, straight through the milky blue iris. The man blinks and looks away. "They done 'orrible things to some of 'em."

"Look, it don't matter what 'appened to us, or who Merl is," Den breaks back in, "He's a tough sonuvabitch, and you'd do well not to cross him." He looks Galen straight in the eye."You should really let us go, mate. Ol' Merl knows we 'eaded this way. Likely on 'is way 'ere by now wif the rest o' the boys, seein' as we've been gone too long already. Let us walk out of 'ere now, and I'll put in a good word for ya wif 'im."

Insight (DC 12)While Den doesn't appear to be lying, he does seems very nervous.

[Gavran]

Corran Makersfield

Corran tires from his pacing and sits on the edge of the counter. He subtly catches the bartenders attention and asks if there is still any hot food remaining at this late hour. While he waits, he appears deep in thought, though his gaze remains fixed on the captives.

I wonder what events are unfolding in the north that would inspire desertion... while these men were clearly never cut to be heroes, it takes a lot to make a man walk away from his life...

[18th Avenger]

Things were getting much worse, as evidenced by Galen's grim face. Inwardly, he was panicking. The fighter tripped on something far greater than his scope. He only knew that desertion was punishable by death at worst, 10 to life with a flogging at best. By now confronted by one of those faceless statistics, his mind was racing.

"I'm a tough sonuvabitch too. How many are coming?"

[Ardurious]

"The 'ole crew," Den finally glances up. He looks bewildered. "Should be about nine or ten on the way." The young hunter behind Den lets out a choked gasp. Den looks to Galen again.

"Please, let us go. I dunno what Merl's gonna do when 'e gets 'ere, but I don't see Valen, Jarah, n' meself gettin' out of 'ere in one piece," the hunter on the floor seems to rouse at the sound of his name. He groans softly and slides a limp hand across the floor, perhaps trying to prop himself up. "We can all get out o' this, but we've gotta go. Now!" Den pours urgency into his last words. The young hunter seems nearly frantic. The one on the floor has managed to get on hands and knees. He is looking around the room, a mixture of confusion and fear on his face.

"C'mon mate, decision time," Den glances anxiously at the door.

[Gavran]

Corran Makersfield

The small sorcerer abandons his meal, slides down from the counter and crosses the distance between the bar and the former soldiers.

"So, Merl sends you to bring harm to the elf maiden for trying to defend her home. That's strike one." His voice grows heated as he counts out their offenses on one hand. "You find yourselves outnumbered, and you make these folks run you down. That's two. Now you're telling us that ten men are on their way to burn the place down!?"

The halfling pauses, visibly collecting himself.

"And maybe what you've done, you've done out of fear, and because you didn't know where else you could turn. I'm not sure what to make of you, but I am sure of one thing: you're not going anywhere, and neither am I. I won't walk away while your leader brings harm to the people of Norefast. If you're men at all, neither will you."

Corran extends his hand to the man on his knees.

"You're asking us all to take a gamble on your honor. I'm offering you the chance to earn it back. Stand with us, and when your friends arrive we'll deal with them - peacefully if we can, and to the last man standing if we have to."

[18th Avenger]

"9 - 10 boys, y'say? Including Merl?"

Galen once again took his head in both hands and started to twist his neck gently from one side to the other, easing the kinks out. He looked at the pot boy, a thin waif in an apron watching with wide eyes.

"You, boy! Get my axes from outside, the two close together and with the worn handles." The fighter turned to the five who'd been rather pro-active up to now; the minotaur who'd given chase with him, the elf, the woman with the calm measured tones and robes of a cleric and the halfling who had apparently roused aide.

"What say I appeal to your civic spirit in stopping a little unpleasantness coming this way?"

[Gavran]

Corran Makersfield

Corran nods firmly. "Your cause is my own and fortune favors us. I stand with you, sir Amrody."

Smirking to himself, he adds silently I could hardly sleep with a battle raging outside my room anyway.

[Wymmerdann]

"Corran, your instinct to offer these men a chance to redeem themselves is an excellent one, but the position we would put them in is completely untenable."

As she built up momentum, Ishniel began to pace back and forth, shaping for the others the image of how she thought things would most likely transpire.

"We can extract no oath or promise of fealty from these men that we can be certain to survive the arrival of their comrades and commanding officer. Keep in mind, their loyalty to one another survived their desertion; it is no trifling matter. Given their current compliance, it seems wise to put them out of harm's way until this matter with Merl is dealt with. Under lock and key in the guardhouse should suffice."


"Once the threat is resolved, the magistrate will sentence them according to the King's law, for it is that which they breached first, prior to their poaching and threats to our elven comrade. They may be given a chance to prove themselves; but in a way less fatal to those such as ourselves should they prove treacherous".

"Forewarned, and with time to prepare and fortify this inn, I see no reason why we could not stave off these deserters, forcing them to either see reason and surrender, flee and be dealt with on our own terms, or be neutralised as a threat to the locals. I also would not hastily mobilize the town guard to meet this threat: local militia are unlikely to be a match for trained soldiers, and this is not their fight. Their contribution would be to keep these men," she gestured vaguelly to the captured deserters, "safely under lock and key".

As an afterthought, she stopped pacing, turned toward those remaining within the taproom of the inn, and introduced herself.

"I am Ishniel, disciple to Isandra and my path is clear. I will remain to resolve this threat to the peace and innocent, though with as little bloodletting as possible".

[Ardurious]

A flash of rage crosses Den's face. "Let's get one thing straight 'ere: me n' the boys are not deserters!" he looks angrilly around the room, locking eyes with everyone present for a moment or two. "Don't matter t'me what the King's 'ounds say, we ain't traitors n' we ain't cowards," his face softens a bit as his rage subsides, "n' it's a pleasure to meet ya, m'lady. I wish it'd been under better circumstances, but I guess I've only meself to blame for that."

"Gods above n' below!" The formerly-unconscious hunter - Jarah - finally speaks. "The big one there 'its like a light-blessed battering ram!" He struggles to balance on his knees and places a hand on his back, feeling up and down his spine where Artok had impacted him.

"Look, if you turn us over to the magistrate, e'll 'ave letters on the way to Dantorin n' the Iron 'Ill by sunrise," he shakes his head, "Won't be no trial. We'll be 'anged the second we set foot in a milit'ry camp. 'Ells, it was a 'uge risk just comin' 'ere tonight."

Perception (DC 14)The sound of heavy footsteps can be heard in the distance. It sounds like quite a large group.
Perception (DC 18)It's the magistrate. He is followed closely by six lightly-armored men armed with pikes. Crossbows hang at their sides.

[Nightgaun7]

Artok, hands still resting on his axe, lowers his head and addresses Galen. "Why should I fight ten men more? So far my only quarrel is with these."

[Sabishii]

Alyda

As Ishniel finished her dialogue, Alyda nodded. "Ishniel, I am Alyda Mossclaw of the Wrathwood. You make a fine argument. These men are criminals first of this kingdom. After they have been judged here, however, they will stand for judgment before the Mother-Forest. That I promise you." She let's the words melt into the air.

As she stands there a slight breeze finds it's way through the opened door rushing through her long hair. She looks at her staff a gnarled branch of an ancient tree at the heart of the Wrathwood. She tightens her grip. "As for this upcoming fight, you have the primal spirits at your back." Alyda flashes a fanged smile and her pupils briefly flicker between their normal shape and those of a lynx.

As the minotaur raises his query, Alyda's ears twitch. She can hear something. A steady pounding like a heartbeat, growing slowly louder. Footsteps. "A group approaches. It seems too early for their lot. she says gesturing to the men. "Prepare yourselves nevertheless."

[Gavran]

Corran Makersfield

"I myself can't yet say what fate these men deserve, Ishniel, but I don't know that I can trust the black and white justice you suggest we offer them to -- and we don't have time, Alyda is right, I can hear the footsteps now. I don't care whether these men are with us or locked in one of the rooms for now, my first priority is outside."

Finished speaking, Corran turns to the door, one hand resting on the hilt of his dagger, ready for anything.

[18th Avenger]

The scruffy fighter strode up to the big minotaur, with his gauntlet off, and slugged him hard across the muzzle. "Not only did you almost snap one of 'em in two, you scared the piss out of them. Let it go an' focus on the big picture," replied Galen. Inwardly, he was wishing he could stop the pain flaring in his hand. Oh, Kord, why did I think that was a good idea?

"He's right, ma'am," Galen said sadly as he slid his gauntlet back on. "Say what you want about the lawmakers of yore, they were quite clear on 'deserters'." There was an odd accent in the last word and a sudden twinkle of amusement in his eye.

"However, it's a known fact that the laws on poaching are not only quite recent, but also held to be very fraggin' stupid. So for first time offenders, like these three, I figure we can cut 'em a break and let them go." From behind his beard, they could see him smile almost paternally down at the three hunters before untying the two in chairs. "We'll consider this night their warning. Hide in one of the rooms," the fighter instructed when the potboy hurried in with his axes. "Then make a break for it as soon as you hear the sounds of faces breakin'." As Den rose up, Glen laid a hand on his shoulder, face dead serious. And if I hear that there's poachin' 'round these parts again, I'll sic the elf and nature on you. Clear?" He twirled the axes expertly.

"For those of you still not clear, I'm Galen Emrody, Duly appointed magistrate's assistant of Land's End and all surrounding townships. And on behalf of my office, I thank you all for your cooperation."

[Nightgaun7]

Artok blinks, then laughs lowly. "You should have kept your gauntlet on, little man. Then I might have felt that." Artok wraps his hands around the haft of his axe, holding it low. "I am a Artok Blackarm, free minotaur and one of the last of the Iron Wolves. I aided you, a stranger, in your stand and your chase, and you repay my questions with violence. Shall I return your coin, fool?" The last words come out in a near-bellow, and those around can see the corded sinews on Artok's neck ripple as he grips his axe tighter.

[18th Avenger]

"That was the answer, you huge horned yahoo!" Galen, as it might have been observed, was no slouch in the temper department himself. His face was turning red and, like Artok, the veins on his neck bulged. "You paid them back in fright and lost piss and now they won't will not even think of stepping on anyone else's cloaks ever again! Now we're gonna deal with whoever held their leashes and have our reckoning with them! Now think real hard and do your Iron Wolves honor and focus on the big picture!"

Then a thought entered his head and listened once again. "Not with whoever's coming, though. That might be the local law." To the two hunters who had gathered up the third, he said, "Ya know what, just hide first. We still got questions about the scale."

[Tohek]

Zanarkand

If these men are truly not deserters, perhaps they and I are under one sky.

Zanarkand stands and steps to the side of his table. He pulls the gray hood away, revealing a tall, olive-skinned face with black, angular tattoos curling out of precisely trimmed steel gray sideburns. His eyes travel from patron to patron as he speaks their names in his deep, raspy voice.

"Artok Blackarm of the Iron Wolves. Galen Emrody, magistrate's assistant. Alyda Mossclaw of the Wrathwood. Corran Makersfield, guardian of livestock. Know that I am Zanarkand Brakk, craftbrother and survivor of the rrakma Artha'rok. In this matter I know voice.

The enemy is not here." Zanarkand's eyes meet with Galen's, then they rest on Artok. "The enemy is out there, coming after these lawmakers. Know that they come for all of us. We must band together if we will know victory over the enemy." He lets his words hang for a moment.

His rrakma's last battle replays in his mind. I will not know the shame of another defeat. No more running, he thinks with morbid courage.

Zanarkand moves his eyes to Ishniel, who already knows him, and nods. He pulls his crossbow out and begins to trace it with a long, many-jointed index finger. Where his finger touches the crossbow, the wood glows blue, then fades to black, leaving an unbroken design.

[Nightgaun7]

Artok listens to Zanarkand, then looks back at Galen. "I need no yokel to tell me the way of honor." Artok spits on the floor at his feet, then lumbers towards the door. "This is not my fight. But if it come to blood, then I will defend the people here. Such is the way." The minotaur looks towards the captives. "Archers, said you? I will wait here, then. When the lesser men come close enough..." He makes a short chopping motion.

[Ardurious]

Den stands from the chair, shaking the ropes loose. He looks a bit surprised. Valen is kneeling down to offer Jarah an arm. Den motions for the two to hurry along. The footsteps outside have grown louder. Valen quickly pulls Jarah to his feet and the two scurry up the steps to the second floor and out of sight. Den turns to go, then turns back to the group

"Thank you," he looks to Galen, then to Corran, and finally to Ishniel, "I won't forget this. He gives a nod and mounts the staircase. He makes it three steps, then stops and turns once more. "Doubt it'll matter much, but me name's Dendric Edirn. If you ever find yerselves in Land's End, ask around. I'll find ya." He gives a wry smile, then disappears upstairs.

ArtokArtok recognizes the name. He had heard it said occasionally around the Windless Wall for some months before the Oathbound Legion had razed the fortress.

All is silent for a moment, though it doesn't last.

"This is Aram Vant, Magistrate of Norefast! Alrim'erlhromane Alrin'hamaede, if you're in there, give ya'self up 'nd come out now!" the voice is gruff and loud. The magistrate sounds irritated. He speaks quietly to those with him. Rapid footsteps are heard circling around the tavern. "This doesn't 'ave to end badly! Surrender and you'll be shown mercy!"

"None of you say a word," a deep voice pierces the minds of those gathered within the tavern. It is followed a moment later by a large tear appearing near the rear wall, as if someone had taken a knife and cut a hole in the room itself. It hangs in the air for a moment before stretching in either direction until it has formed a rectangular hole, nearly seven feet tall and four wide. Through the hole can be seen a forest clearing. It seems well-used, the grass stamped down and limbs cleared away. Torches are jammed into holes cut in the trees, illuminating the place.

Standing before the tear in the room is an dark-skinned man. He is dressed similarly to Den and the others, though the leather overcoat he wears appears to be made of white, scaly hide. He holds a polished staff of black wood in his hands, and two runed tomes hang from his thick belt in leather bindings. He puts a foot through the hole, his tall leather boot growing clearer as he steps down onto the wooden floor of the tavern. Another step and he is in the room, staring down at those gathered with piercing blue eyes. His black hair is cut short and slicked back on his head and his face is lined with scars, some old and some only beginning to heal.

He places the butt of his staff on the ground and the portal behind him shrinks back to a small tear before vanishing completely.

"I am Alrim'erlhromane Alrin'hamaede," he scans the room, icy eyes passing over each gathered there, one by one, "but you may call me...Merl."

[18th Avenger]

"Ah! You're Merl, then." Galen rested his axes on his shoulders, apparently unafraid of the man who tore a hole in reality through the Hag's wall. From the sounds of it, people already started running out. "As a representative of the crown's authority, I'm giving you a chance to come peacefully. After all," he smiled dangerously. "It's not everyday an army officer convinces his men to abandoned their posts. You gonna save us the unpleasantness and explain yourself?"

[Ardurious]

"We abandoned nothing," Merl says calmly. His gaze comes to Galen, sizing him up, "no more so than your friend here," he nods in Artok's direction. "How are the Irin Wolves these days, hmm?" He taps the end of his staff gently on the ground.

"Here's how this is going to go: I'm going to take the lot of you with me back to the Wrathwood - away from the magistrate and his men - and we're all going to have a nice, long talk," he smiles coldly at those gathered in the tavern. A mote of light appears in the air behind him. It shimmers for a moment before tracing a jagged line though the air, "I suppose I need to figure out what to do with Dendric and the others, as well. Ah well, I'll think on it. Come along." The jagged tear stretches into anlther hole. The forest clearing is visible on the other side.

Corran, Arcana checkAfter a quick analysis, Merl's teleportation spell seems to be some form of dimensional gate. The edges seem to be wavering, attempting to extend the gate; he seems used to making them much larger.

You can feel great power emanating from him, though you sense nothing in the way of fey or daemonic influence. The tomes at his waist seem to label him a wizard.

A quick examination of the room around you reveals that Merl has already cast several powerful spells on the immediate area since entering, though you cannot determine what they are.

Alyda, Perception and Nature checksLooking at the clearing through the portal, it appears to be a location deep within the Wrathwood. It has been nearly a year since Alyda had visited this area, but she remembers it. The torches were not there when last she was, and many of the tree limbs have been cleared away.

Alyda senses no fey touch on the man. He appears to be human, though his presence in the room is exceptionally strong.

Zanarkand, Arcana and History checksThe man wields, by Zanarkand's examination, simple arcane magic. He seems to be a powerful wizard, though a wizard nonetheless. Zanarkand doesn't recognize the gate spell he uses, though it seems to be fighting to grow larger.

Zanarkand remembers seeing the name - Alrim'erlhromane Alrin'hamaeda - among a list of deserters as he was passing through a northern town some months back. The man had apparently been a knight-captain and high-ranking war wizard in the Realtan military cabal. The name itself is strange, unlike any Zanarkand has heard since arriving in this new land. It is unfamiliar to him from his own homeland, as well.

[18th Avenger]

The feral smile grew wide as a half moon in a cold night before hardening into a vaguely psychotic rictus. "No dice, Merl."

And with a yell and a powerful flick of his wrist, Galen threw the axe in his right hand at the wizard's smug face while charging forward, intent on pulverizing the mien into powder.

OoC
Will you need something to make a map of some kind for the battle, Ardurious?

[Wymmerdann]

Ishniel
Merl was not at all what she had expected. There was so much unclear or unknown: too much to make the correct decision. Isandra knew the path was not always clear, but was there even a path to follow or miss in such a situation as this?

"We are not chattel to be manhandled through arcane gateways at will, Alrim'erlhromane Alrin'hamaede. You have wasted much of your opportunity for frank and honest negotiation, do not let it pass by wholsesale." She used his name, for there was always power in such; the power to know, to remember, to thwart.

She made ready to respond with the powers entrusted to her should events continue their spiral into violence.

Religion Check on any infernal or necromantic association with his powers or person[roll0]
Insight on his demeanour, and specifically intentions toward violence, or the opportunity of genuine negotiation. [roll1]

[Ardurious]

The wizard extends his hand and an invisible force halts Galen's axe in midair some five feet from his body. He moves his hand to the side and the axe launches itself through the portal behind him.

"We don't have time for this," Merl mutters, "but if I must explain myself, I shall do so quickly. You're new friend out there - Magistrate Vant - is corrupt. I have been paying him an absolutely heinous portion of the profits my soldiers and I collect from selling our kills. In exchange, he keeps quiet that there is a group of 'deserters' living in the forest beside his town, and he doesn't send his guards to harass us."

He motions to Alyda. "I sent Dendric and the other two here tonight to scare you off because I was worried you'd be able to sense the wards I had placed around the town to keep myself and the others hidden within the forest. I figured if you could find them and disable them, you could sniff us out as well." He looks quickly to the door, then to Galen.

"We do not attack those who reside here, nor do we pray on innocents," he assures the fighter, seemingly reading his thoughts, "The only humans we have killed since leaving the King's service - and I use the term 'human' lightly - were the group of bandits who inhabited this forest before our arrival." Another glance at the door. He appears anxious.

"Now, the protective shield I have placed around the tavern will be expiring very soon. Vant and his cronies will be upon us in minutes."

Ishniel (Religion and Insight check results)Ishniel can sense no daemonic influence from the wizard, nor any necromantic energies. His soul feels damaged somehow, though.

She can sense little from his words - whether truthful or not. He seems trained to confound attempts to read his demeanor and emotions. It seems instinctual at this point.

[Sabishii]

Alyda

Alyda raises her eyebrow in surprise of the man's power. She senses nothing of the fey in him, but nonetheless she could taste in the air the energy emanating from him.

"And I suppose by 'kills' you mean the animals of the Wrathwood. If you are to be trusted then it appears the focus of my ire should be directed not at you and your men, but at this Magistrate Vant; however, that has yet to be determined." She pauses a moment studying him further, reflecting on his words and the words behind them.

"Give me your oath that what you say is truth. Look me in the eye and swear upon the lives of your men and then I will go with you." She stares into his eyes, her own a more vibrant red with pointed oval pupils.

Insight to see if his oath is false: [roll0]

[Ardurious]

The dark-skinned wizard sighs. "I swear to you, by the Old Gods and the New, upon the lives of my company and upon my own as well, that what I say to you is true," he holds her gaze the entire time, his chilling blue eyes never wavering.

He turns his icy gaze to the remainder of the room. "What say you? Must I give an oath to each of you?" his eyes linger on the cleric, "Or is one sufficient to allay your doubts until we are out of harm's way? I assure you, the magistrate will not give you such a kind offer, now that I have told you of his treachery."

Galen (Insight check result)Galen is unable to deduce the truth or falsity of the wizard's words beyond a vague feeling. Just as quickly as it appears, however, it is gone. He tries to recall it, but can remember neither good nor ill.

Alyda (Insight check result)Alyda can see a spark of sincerity within the haggard wizard's cold eyes, like a tiny crack in an otherwise seemless shell. A brief feeling of reassurance overcomes her, though it is gone just as quickly as it had appeared.

[Gavran]

Corran Makersfield

Noting the ease with which the man stopped the thrown axe, and the varying levels of confidence on the faces of his friends, Corran comes to a decision. He removes his hand from the hilt of his weapon in a visible gesture of non-hostility.

He's thrown around a lot of power just making an entrance... it could be for show, but it still makes him more of a threat than his men ever were. I only have one choice.

"You've given us nothing but your word, Merl, and that after ordering your men here with hostile intentions."

But, if things do go badly, staying here only puts the innocent in danger...

"But those same men, while yet to atone for their crimes, have shown themselves to be more than mere brigands. Perhaps you'll be able to do the same. I will go with you, but know this: you have earned no trust yet, and if I suspect for a moment that you will betray us, you will face my own considerable power - and more - the magistrate is here because I spoke with him." Corran's posture changes, and his previously open hands clench into fists. "Your men were followed, and if he doesn't receive a message from me that we've handled the situation, he'll be informed of the location of your camp and, corrupt or not, he will bring legions down upon you."

Bluff
[roll0]

[18th Avenger]

Right when he was within range, Galen wound up his fist and... Stopped. Breathing hard, he reined in his natural desire to rearrange facial features in the face of the wizard's calmness.

There were too many factors involved. The city-bred fighter hadn't been here long enough to know the village's magistrate. Also, as far as he could tell, the village wasn't exactly storming the city with letters about the infestation of poachers in the surrounding woods.

Galen's fist shook once before relaxing. He slipped his axe back into a belt-loop before taking a deep calming breath. "I'm the fist o' the law, not its insight," he muttered before turning to his erstwhile band. "I say we get to the bottom of this, one fact at a time."

[Sabishii]

Alyda

Alyda holds his gaze for several moments after his words peter off. She nods her head. "Very well, I will go with you."

She walks towards the portal feeling the faintest breeze at her back. The smell of the Wrathwood fills her nostrils lifting her spirits.

[Wymmerdann]

Ishiel

Ishniel was uncertain. The mage seemed uncommonly powerful and dangerous, but also...pained? Broken? Incomplete?

The path of the Disciple is uncertain. There are many paths; many walkers. Isandra is neither path nor walker, and thus neither is her Disciple. Isandra abides.

"I will pass through this portal," Ishniel resolved aloud, "and we shall see what we shall see."

[Ardurious]

"It is decided, then," the wizard nods. The elf is the first one through the portal. She steps into the clearing and busies herself with examining the immediate area. She looks hazy through the translucent window ofthe hole in reality.

The halfling comes next, sidling calmy into the clearing. He gives the wizard a warning glance as he passes, but steps through nonetheless.

The cleric and the artificer enter next, talking quietly amongst themselves as they go. The fighter sighs, then steels himself and steps through behind them.

Only the minotaur remains. He eyes Merl dangerously. "If this be a trick, I care not how powerful you are, my axe shall meet your neck," he touches the haft of his heavy battle-axe as he says it. The blade gleams viciously in the light of the torches shining through the portal.

"If I am lying to you, I'll place my head upon the block without a foght," the wizard looks Artok dead in the eyes, "but if we don't hurry, both our heads will roll." The minotaur grunts at this, then walks slowly towards the portal. He gives the wizard one final glace before stepping through. Merl is right behind him. The gate closes moments after he steps through, fading back into nothingness.

"Come along," Merl motions for the group to follow, then walks off towards an opening in the trees around the circular clearing, "we have much to discuss."

The walk to the camp is short and quiet. The group arrives within some minutes. The camp itself is a small thing, almost pitiful: a collection of ramshackle tents and lean-tos sprawled out across a larger clearing. A fire burns outside every other of the twelve or so tents, illuminating the tired faces of those who sit around them.

The men look little better than their campsite. They all seem exhausted, eyes sunken and skin sallow from lack of sleep. Some stare at the group as they walk through the camp, others just continue to look into the fires. They talk with one another in hushed tones. Each seems to have a hand on his blade. Despite the air of tiredness permeating the place, each man seems coiled and ready to strike at a moment's notice.

Merl takes the adventurers to a larger fire burning on the edge of the campsite. Several stumps and other assorted pieces of debris sit around it, acting as makeshift seats. He bundles his cloak within his hands and moves it out of the way as he sits. He motions for those with him to do the same.

"You have trusted me," he says. The fire reflects in his cold eyes, though it does little to chase off their chill, and now I believe I owe you some answers."

[18th Avenger]

Galen scratched his head as he watched the two ladies take Merl's promise on faith and walk through his tear in reality. It was at this stage he remembered that any watchmen in attendance would begin to get antsy and make moves to breach any obstacle.

"I gotta be outta my tiny mind," the fighter muttered. He looked at the minotaur, the halfling and the third man. He looked to Merl, watching as if his gaze could peel him apart and see through his stone visage. Galen finally shrugged and followed after his axe, into the portal.

~*~*~*~

"Damn straight," Galen managed before belching and clasping his hand over his mouth. He never knew what sort of effect magic would have on him. His gauntlet's minor homing enchantment didn't feel deleterious. But the portal he'd stepped through which made his stomach flip and flop...

Well now I know... Along the way, he'd found his second axe and slipped it into the other belt loop. He favored Merl with a hard look. "First off, why they call you deserters?"

[Ardurious]

The wizard sighs heavily again, his breath misting in the early morning breeze. It disappears as the fire laps at it. "Nearly two years ago my men and I were assigned a station at the Windless Wall. There were nearly forty of us then," The noise from the camp seems to die down; everyone seems to have their eyes on Merl. "We worked in the fortress standing watch along the eastern perimeter. We did our jobs loyally and faithfully for eight months until a traveller arrived out of the blue," the wizard stops for a moment. He warms his hands by the fire.

"We didn't know who he was, but he bore a cloak not unlike yours," he leans his staff slightly in Artok's direction, "and he was welcomed by your men like a long-lost brother. It was three nights after that the Legion came." His story trails off momentarily and his eyes seem to lose focus. He appears briefly lost in his thoughts.

"They broke through the gate in moments. This, the impenetrable bulwark, the pride of the Realtan King! And they sundered it in mere seconds," the fire burns low and his face grows dark. Shadows seem to lengthen around him, growing deeper and more ominous with every passing moment, "They burned everything and everyone they found. Barely half of my men made it out. I found some by the river, dead of wounds inflicted as they had fled. Others I saw being thrown from the fortress wall with ropes 'round their necks. I watched as some of my dearest friends - men I had known for decades and who I cared for more than my own family - were slaughtered like animals," The light seems to return to the fire and the shadows recede as Merl's face grows softer.

"I gathered those few I could find and we fled. We intended to journey to the nearest encampment and explain what had happened, but we were picked up by a group of the Kingsguard on their way back to the capital," he shakes his head in disgust. "They called us deserters, traitors to the crown. Three of my men were killed on the spot before the guards' commander reigned them in. They intended to take us to the Iron Hill to stand judgment for treason and desertion, but we were able to escape along the way. Most of us, anyway," he looks to the dirt grimly.

"We moved around for months, hiding in the forests and marshes, until we ended up here. I figured we would be safe here, at the edge of civilization," his eyes scan the group gathered around the fire. The men of his camp seem to have gathered around as well, forming a loose circle behind the adventurers. They look on with a grim sense of knowing. "and we were. Until now, I suppose."

[Nightgaun7]

"I am Artok, a free minotaur, known to some as Blackarm." Artok pauses, rolls his shoulders and tosses his horns. A clear sign of stress to those familiar with minotaurs."Dendric Edirn. Heard his name 'round the Wall. But never yours. What's this talk of the Iron Wolves and three days? Say you we are the disloyal ones?" His eyes narrow and gleam red in the darkness.

[Gavran]

Corran Makersfield

The halfling raises the hood of his cloak, feeling the eyes of the wizard's men on his back. After the man answers the minotaur's questions, Corran steps forward.

"So rather than trying to find justice, you've gone from accused to actual desertion. Perhaps that was the wisest move, I've had little cause to interact with the politics of soldiers. Truthfully, I have no issue with your decision to forsake those that abandoned you first. Your first loyalty is with the men you command. I can respect that. However, that isn't really why we're here, is it?" Corran raises an arm in the direction of Alyda."You've broken laws laid down by your own kind, and upheld by our friend here. How do you justify that?

Corran folds his arms across his chest, tension visible in his stance.

[Sabishii]

Alyda

"From what I understand" Alyda begins slowly. "you and your men are being blackmailed. You provide this Vant with furs and other poached goods lest he bring the justice of Realta down upon you and have you all hanged." She pauses a moment inhaling deeply through her nose a slight wind tousling her hair.

She looks to Merl across the fire. "The Mother-Forest does not take kindly to poachers; however, the fact that you and your men remain alive is either a testament to your strength or to the mercy of the Wrathwood. While you have shown yourself quite capable Merl, I doubt even you could keep in check the Primal Spirits that call these woods home. Perhaps Mother has plans for you."

[Ardurious]

Merl gives a gruff laugh at Alyda's words. "Perhaps she does. It certainly would be nice to have a purpose again," a sardonic smile forms on his dark lips. An old scar running from his nose down past the collar of his tunic pulls the corner of his mouth down, making the grin seem almost a scowl.

"As for you, halfling, we have done what we have in order to survive. No one in this gods-cursed kingdom would willingly take in a deserter," he spits into the fire, "and we would be apprehended the moment we tried to cross the border, had we even the coin to try. No, we came to the Wrathwood exclusively for its fearful reputation. Even a Kingsguard with a mission from Arrant himself wouldn't dare venture past the border of this damned place," he looks towards Alyda, "No offense meant, of course."

"And you," he locks eyes with the minotaur, a dangerous proposition, "I had heard tales of the valor and skill of the Iron Wolves long before I was given the honor of fighting beside them. I mean you and your kin no disrespect; I am merely stating a simple fact," he pauses a moment to guage Artok's reaction, "I know not who the traitor was at the Windless Wall, or if indeed there was a traitor at all. I was - and still am - more concerned with the lives of my men. Perhaps one day the truth of what transpired shall be revealed. For the moment, I content myself with surviving until then." He pauses, then adds, "For what it's worth, I am deeply sorry for the friends that you lost on that night."

As Merl finishes, a young soldier steps through the circle and strides up to the wizard. He looks at the motley crew seated around the fire and adopts a large, goofy grin. "Sir, chow's done," the young man eyes each member of the group as he talks to his commander, "Narim's made a big pot of 'is 'Forest Floor Stew'. Merl's face contrts in a pained expression, but he quickly hides it.

"Would you care for something to eat? You are my guests, it would seem," Merl looks knowingly to the young man and a bemused expression crosses his face.

[18th Avenger]

"I can't blame you for running, when you put it that way," Galen said slowly. "I defend the law, but even I know that sometimes the law ain't right." If any of the band would look at him at his honest admission, the fighter shrugged. "A huge focus of the law is catching criminals. Proving innocence," he made a face. "That's something else entirely. Believe you me, I can count the number of times a perp's friends have tried to come up with proof of innocence, only for us to hang the poor sod the next day. It's disgusting."

"However," Galen chewed the inside of his cheek slowly. "If you can present proof of Vant's corruption, it might swing the courts in your favor. As well as finding this 'Legion' that brewed your outpost." He added the last bit sheepishly as he followed along for a bit of forest stew.

[Nightgaun7]

Artok looks at Galen through narrowed eyes, then surveys the others. After a time, in which the minotaur is clearly thinking the events of the evening over several times, he rumbles "We always knew there was some treachery behind the attack on the Wall, but with the city lost and our company shattered, there was naught to do about it. If you seek to claim payment on the debt, I will come with you to make sure the Iron Wolves are added to the tally. And put aside differences until the traitor's heartblood stains my axe." The minotaur pricked his hand with one of his horns, then smeared the blood across the matted fur over his heart. "So swears Artok Blackarm!"

[Gavran]

Corran Makersfield

"Well, Merl, it seems you've satisfied the upholders of both civilized and natural law, so I suppose you've earned the courtesy to change from interrogation to discussion, and if we're to discuss the corruption of the magistrate, why not over a meal? I enjoyed a fine one back at the Hag though, so you'll have to forgive my not sharing in your ah... culinary delights."

The halfling's stomach twisted at the idea of scavenging for meals in these woods.

"However, it is a custom among mine to offer a gift to meal's host. I'm pretty far from home these days, but perhaps it will excuse my rudeness in not eating with you."

Corran pulls from his bag a bottle of Brindleberry wine and offers it to the wizard.

[Ardurious]

"Ooh, best not let Narim see that," the young soldier chuckles. His cat-like grin broadens ever so slightly as he takes the wine from Corran. "Many thanks, little master." He produces a small knife from his coat and goes about working the cork out of the bottle.

"Not tonight, Geff," Merl holds up a hand and the knife dances gracefully out of the young soldier's grasp and back into his coat. The young man chuckles again. He places the bottle in the leather pack dangling from his side.

"So that's...how many bowls of stew?" Geff quickly counts up the number of visitors seated around the fire.

Merl answers before anyone else can. "None tonight. We all need to be up early, and it's very nearly dawn," Geff's face drops slightly and he mouths "Awwww...", then "Yes, sir'" before bounding off. Merl shakes his head.

[Tohek]

Zanarkand's heart leapt before he stepped through the portal, hoping that perhaps he would snag on a passing astral skiff as they jaunted and be thrown back into the Elemental Chaos. Yet he knew the odds were futile: a 0.05% chance.
He was well-versed in traveling across such portals; many times in training he and the other rrakma initiates would travel magically just for practice.
Zanarkand steadily stepped into the torchlit forest surrounded, by the people of this World.

~

Zanarkand listened carefully to what the magician had to say. The man was was calming and persuasive. Was it truly possible to be mistaken for a traitor after escaping with one's life? Perhaps I will know a similar fate when I return to Zerthadlun. I must be know Zerthimon and submerge the will lest I follow that road of doubt.

"Whatever happened to the Legion after this siege? Why have we not heard of their assault on Realta?" In truth, Zanarkand wouldn't have known about the attack anyway. His new companions might, however.

[Ardurious]

"Honestly, I do not know. I've heard nothing more of them since they attacked the fortress," Merl shakes his head, "Although, I've not really been listening around. I don't much care where they are; they've done to me all I believe they can. I doubt they'd come this far south, anyway." He stands slowly from his stump, righting his cloak and overcoat.

"I'm headed to my tent for a few hours rest," he turns from the fire and begins to wander off, "I'd recommend each of you do the same. We have a tent or two spare, I'm sure. Geff can show you the way." The young soldier gives a wide grin as the group turns to him.

[Sabishii]

Alyda

Though interesting the talk of Iron Wolves and a horde hardly concerned Alyda, for now. She politely declined the offer of food before it was taken away completely. At the mention of tents she scoffs and again politely declines. Close by to the camp is a rather large tree who's many roots form sizable cubbies. She picks a suitable one and shifting into the form of a golden Lynx prepares her night's rest.

[Gavran]

Corran Makersfield

The halfling follows the soldier, muttering under his breath the whole way.

"I paid a handsome price for a room at that inn... finally made it to town today and I have to sleep outside again... not going to get a minute's rest..."

He trudges along, appearing resigned to his fate.

[Nightgaun7]

Artok finds a tree to lean against and wraps himself in his cloak. He has much to think on.

[Wymmerdann]

Ishniel

Understanding the customary importance of accepting the fare offered by a host, unappetizing or not, Ishniel did so with thanks. She'd had worse, and a warm meal was preferable to her trail rations.

"I would be happy to recompense you for the use of a tent by volunteering my services as a healer," she offered Geff, who seemed a quartermaster of sorts. "Isandra favors the wanderer, stranger, and lost traveller, and it is clearly by her will that I am among you."

"As several of my fellow travellers, including the lady Alyda, seem content to room outdoors, I would ask, for the sake of both propriety and my own conscience, that I be permitted to room alone," Ishniel reasoned. Given her constant nightmares, she knew that she infrequently cried out during her sleep, and thrashing about was an even more common occurence. It would be inappropriate to do so in the close confines of a shared tent, especially with male companions, and the distance and covering of an isolated tent might provide some measure of privacy.

She prepared to retire for the evening, saying a quiet Sojourner's Prayer over the campsite and reciting the tenets of her faith as was her custom.

[18th Avenger]

As much as sleeping with a mug of beer in his skin did not bode well for tomorrow morning, there was no denying the wisdom in Merl's orders. Outdoorsmen (Galen neglected to call them those other words) in hostile territory needed to leave little trace and sign that there was a number of men (as well as women, an elf and a minotaur) camping out in the woods for no apparent reason.

So, just like Artok, he decided to camp under the stars, declining some of the soldiers' offer to camp with them. It might have been a mistake, he decided as, curled up in a bedroll nestled between some roots (as those same soldiers suggested) he could not sleep thanks to the night-time sounds of the surround wilds and the sensation of lying in the dirt. A city boy through-and-through, Galen was kept awake for a better part of a few hours, catching only intermittent snatches of sleep. As his upbringing had been rough in the city, at least he had taken some form of comfort in his little flat in Emrody Street, surrounded by bright lights and cussing neighbors.

While trying to catch his rest, he'd mulled over all that the wizard had explained and what he'd learned upon arriving at the village. A power that threatened the kingdom, that was something right out of the tales. It made seeking out poachers who turned out to be deserters seem petty. On remembering the three hunters, Galen hoped they'd be all right. It was a tricky call, one that would put him in very dire straits when he returned to Land's End.

That's if I come back, he thought as sleep had finally come over him a little past twilight.

[Ardurious]

Early morning light creeps slowly over the tops of the tall trees around the forest clearing. Birds begin to sing their soft meoldies somewhere off in the distance. The soldiers' camp quickly wakes to life. Men dart to and fro thriugh scattered tents, fetching bits of meat from the cook fire that had been started nearly an hour before, while others wander off into the trees in the direction of what sounds like running water. They carry heavy wooden pails slung across their shoulders.

Merl is up and about just as early as his men. He strides purposefully through the camp, arriving at the cook fire in time to grab a large hunk of meat and a piece of stale bread before wandering back to the edge of the encampment to the stump he had occupied earlier that morning. He produces a flask from his overcoat and takes a long sip before biting into his meat. Deer, it seems.

He surveys the camp, bustling with life. There are few men left now but each goes about his work ourposefully, some chopping firewood and stakcing it into large piles, others returning from the woods with pails full of water, while others still work at packing up the myriad tents strewn about the clearing.

The wizard sighs, tired still even after a few hours' sleep. A new day has begun, and what a long one it is shaping up to be.

[Gavran]

Corran Makersfield

Upon reaching the tent, Corran quickly bids goodnight to everyone and enters. After waiting a minute to ensure his privacy, the halfling grabs a small wooden cube from his belt pouch. He clutches it for a moment in seeming reverence, then tosses it down in front of him, paying that same reverent attention the runes inscribed on its faces.

Danger.

He rolls twice more.

Fate. Good.

The halfling replaces the die in its pouch and thinks for a moment.

I suppose I'll see how this plays out... probably safer than sneaking through the camp of paranoid soldiers anyway.

Using his pack as an impromptu pillow, Corran surrenders to sleep.

~~~~

The steady chop-chop-chop of the axemen breaks into his consciousness, but the halfling fights the pull of the rising sun.

[18th Avenger]

"What happens now?"

Galen wasn't a morning person. Usually because his shift began just as the world finished up. A child of Land's End's dirty streets and raucous underground industry, he proved himself a valuable asset to all attempts at keeping the law. Now he realized he would find himself putting that desire to the test...

In spite of his different surroundings, waking up with a racoon scurrying over you wasn't all that different to waking up with either rats or cats scurrying over you. After a rinsing of his mouth with a slug of tepid water, Galem ambled over to the pot and helped himself to some of the venison and bread before finding the wizard.

[Nightgaun7]

Artok lumbers by, a huge load of firewood under one arm.

[Ardurious]

By the time the sun has risen above the horizon, the camp has been packed up, tents rolled and weapons and armor donned and secured. Merl wanders through the empty clearing, examining his troops. He sighs heavily and approaches the adventurers.

"My men are ready to move out," he shakes his head, "I hate that we have to leave this place, but it's not safe here anymore. Aram knows we make camp in the Wrathwood. It's only a matter of time before he and his guardsmen find us."

[Gavran]

Corran Makersfield

Corran stifles a yawn as the wizard finishes addressing the group.

Matter of time? Time to still be in bed, perhaps...

He runs a hand through his dark sleep-tousled hair.

"If this magistrate brings so much trouble to you, maybe I ..." the halfling hesitates, glancing around at the rest of the group "maybe we can help. If he's truly corrupt, we're in a position to act where you can't. None have any reason to call me deserter - sorry, but true or not it's a disadvantage - and I'm not burdened by the need to protect anyone under my command. There could even be a chance for redemption, if you revealed your hand after the man was exposed. A chance you and your men could leave this place and return to society as the new authority in Norefast. And I'm sure someone under the King would reward us for our efforts..."

[18th Avenger]

"For that, proof of everything becomes real important," Galen replied to the halfling. "But that'd mean staying outta sight or a long time." His bearded face expressed what the fighter thought of the plan by way of a furrowed brow.

[Nightgaun7]

Artok speaks after a couple of minutes, "I think not the new magistrate, should we rid this place o' the other. But proof of your innocence might be found in the same place as the traitor who made way for the Legion."

[Sabishii]

Alyda

Alyda rises with sun following her own morning ritual without regard to the men nearby. She joins the others as they convene together near the campfire from last night. She nods her head at what the others say.

"Proof will be hard to come by but it is crucial. With it the magistrate is forfeit to the judgment of the woods. The Mother-Forest will not look as kindly upon him as she has your lot; I'm sure."

[Ardurious]

Merl stops a moment, something the daventurers had said apparently catching his interest. "There are a few documents," he says quietly, almost to himself, "Yes, by the Three Hells, there's proof!" A grin crosses his scars lips.

"Aram and I drew up a contract some months ago outlining the specifics of our agreement. He must still have it somewhere!" he whirls to face Galen, "You, Kingsman, you met with Aram when you arrived in town. Did you see some sort of strongbox lying around anywhere in his offices?" A dangerous light gleams in his eyes.

[18th Avenger]

Galen instinctively recoiled from Merl's sudden attention, choking a bit on his venison and bread. As he thumped his chest, he struggled to remember the time he entered Vant's musty and cluttered office. While the Land's End watch house might have reflected the chaotic nature of the populace it guarded, this out-of-the-way outpost made it look sterling in comparison.

Had there been anything out of place? The fighter struggled to remember, chewing his mouth slowly. The fighter had stood at attention in front of the man's wooden desk, trying not to think of the smell, listening to Vant drone on about what was expected of him. The older magistrate's legs had been stretched out in front of him and Galen admired the cut of the man's boots briefly.

Wait... Near the magistrate's feet was a small box of some sort. The fighter took a bit of stale bread and revealed as much to the suddenly intense Merl.

[Ardurious]

"We need that document," the wizard says quietly, "But neither my men nor myself - and likely none of you - would be able to move around the town unnoticed, let alone infiltrate the magistrate's home."

He sits for a moment, deep in thought. His slight smile returns and he looks to Corran. "You have spoken with Aram, yes? He believes you to be on his side," Merl raises an inquisitive eyebrow, "Perhaps you could sneak in and get what we need."

He turns to Galen once more. "Or perhaps you."

[Gavran]

Corran Makersfield

The halfling's face splits into a wide grin. "Certainly possible, and not even the only option." Counting off his ideas on one hand, Corran continues. "First, as you say, someone can go talk with him. An opportunity might present itself, and it can be as simple as that. Second, there may be good men serving under him. Men who would help to expose him given the opportunity. Third, some of your men - or perhaps some of my friends in their guise - could make some noise near the town. Draw the magistrate out, and then search while he's distracted. We may even be able to combine some of these plans."

Corran's excitement visibly galvanizes his personality, erasing the signs of his wariness. Smirking, he wryly adds "Or we could go to the king and ask for an official investigation."

[Nightgaun7]

"We could take his head first and search after. Save time." Artok stomps, his hoof lifting a small cloud of dirt. "The sooner we are on our way to hunting the traitor at the Wall, the better."

[Ardurious]

"An official investigation woukd do no good. Nor would cutting off his head," Merl gives the minotaur a wry look, "Not yet, anyway. Perhaps after we've exhausted the more reasonable options. Though I would love to see that bastard's head at my feet." He seems to contemplate the thought a moment, before dismissing it.

"I believe it would be easy enough to distract Aram and his men, if you would be willing to help me," the wizard's eyes scan the motley crew gathered before him. "I could teleport one of you into his office to fetch the document while the rest - and myself - held he and his men in the square."

[18th Avenger]

"I could go with you," Galen offered. "I might be able to stall Vant long enough for whoever goes in." the fighter gave a rueful laugh and a grim smile behind his brown beard. "He'd prolly want my head so's he could have another bump on the pay raise."

[Tohek]

Zanarkand has been up for a few hours. The small rest the night bought them does not show on his face. At least, it does not show any more than his dark, deep-set eyes normally show.

"The halfling would go best unseen. Unless the Keeper of the Wrathwood can turn invisible." He has heard before that the primal spirits could turn to mist, but honestly had not studied their natural lore in any great depth before his arrival.

As best as he understood, they were now preparing to trap the magistrate into giving himself away. But the laws of this world confused him, and truth be told he agreed with the minotaur.
"The people must know without doubt the betrayal of the magistrate or they will side with him against us. If this mission goes awry, the magistrate must know death or the people will not know freedom."

[Wymmerdann]

Ishniel

Despite having lost the opportunity for a night in a comfortable bed in a warmed inn, Ishniel felt fully refreshed, having slept better and more fully than she had in weeks. She was unsure of the plan but put faith in the notion that this was where she was meant to be and that those around her seemed resolved to action.

"I am not one for sneaking or infiltration, but I think it likely that Corran's suggestion that at least some of the guards are unaware of Vant's actions is correct. Perhaps they can be reasoned with, and if not, overcome without needless fatalities."

Ishniel hesitantly voiced her concern, aware that the others should be aware of her misgivings.

"We should move quickly to secure the document though. It is not as though Vant could seek to bind Merl or his men to their contractual obligations, given that the deal was essentially illegal. Given how incriminating it is, I'm surprised Vant would have bothered to keep a copy at all, and will certainly move to destroy it if the conflict between he and Merl escalates. We must rely on his attention to detail maintaining its domination of his common sense for a little longer yet."

[Gavran]

Corran Makersfield

Then it seems we've decided. I'll search for the contract, however... I might not be able to find it. Perhaps another pair of eyes..." he glances at each of his companions in turn "lady Alyda, I'm sure the forest has taught you to be unseen. Any objection to joining me?" The halfling looks down in thought for a moment "How will the rest of you know when we're successful?"

[Sabishii]

Alyda

"Keeper? Hardly" she said somewhat derisively. "We have not much else to go on and my senses are sharper than most here so my accompaniment of Corran raises no objections from me. Though I do agree with Corran a want of a signal leaves room for pause."

[18th Avenger]

Galen gave the elf a flat look. "Honestly, do we look like the kind who'd go 'round with faerie lights in our pockets? But she does have a point..." The fighter turned to those who would accompany him to speak with Vant, particularly Merl. "But when all you have is a hammer..."

[Ardurious]

"I've actually got something that might help in that regard," Merl says, withdrawing a pair of small objects from the pocket of his overcoat. "These," he holds up a pair of rune-engaved stones about the size of a sparrow's egg, "are sending stones. This is an attuned pair, so anything spoken into one is heard by the holder of the other." He hands one of the stones to Corran.

"With this, you can let me know when you and the elf have secured the contract." He places the other stone back in his pocket. "Now, I'll need a few minutes to prepare a gate spell. I'll explain to you how it will work once I'm finished. I'd recommend you make any final preparations before then." With this, he turns and walks back toward the clearing.

[18th Avenger]

"Well, no sense in standing about gawking," Galen said. "We all know who's going where. Everyone who wants, get a bite to eat, drink or stretch. I," he began somewhat pompously. "Answer the call of nature."

And with that, the bearded fighter turned towards the woods and left the gathering, whistling as he did so.

[Gavran]

Corran Makersfield

The halfling accepts the enchanted stone, storing it securely in his belt pouch. "I'm ready. Unless anyone wants to place a few bets about how things will go..." He smiles innocently.

[Nightgaun7]

Artok sits, meticulously maintaining the edge on his axe with a whetstone, while waiting for the others to ready themselves.

[18th Avenger]

Well, Galen was only telling half the truth when he turned his back on the group. Once business had been concluded, he went through a ritual that been drilled into him as soon as he could throw a punch.

The bearded fighter began to stretch slowly, raising the tips of his fingers to the sun, then bending down to touch his toes. Until Merl called them, Galen began to stretch and work the kinks out of his body, exactly the way he'd been taught to do right before a fight.

After all, distractions were usually the bloodiest part of a plan.

[Sabishii]

Alyda

"To bet is to claim that success is a question. Let us hope that is not the case." Alyda remarks to Corran as she follows behind Merl.

[Wymmerdann]

Ishniel

Ishniel turned toward Corran
"I tend toward optimism friend Corran", Ishniel remarked drily, "I'll wager you all of five gold pieces that we both survive the day, and another five that this Vant was indeed foolish enough to retain a copy of his contract with Merl."

She muttered to Alyda, at whose side she stood as the others made ready. "Had we more time, I think I would enjoy the Wrathwood. It's wandering paths provoke awe and carry the untraceable scent of the road untravelled. When our business with Vant is done, I think I would like to return here for a time; but this talk of dark forces in the north tells me that might not be my path to take."

And with little more than that, she too was ready to depart.

[Gavran]

Corran Makersfield

The halfling smirks up at Ishniel "I'm not sure how much good five crowns will do either of us if we don't make it out alive, but I'll take you up on both regardless. However, I'll bet ten coins that contract or not, there will be lives lost over this." As an after-thought he adds "Which would be tragic, of course, but that's no reason I can't make a little profit."

[Tohek]

They partake in the earning of money on the trials of the future? What a strange life these people lead. I will hold fast to what I know.

Zanarkand finds an open space and unrolls a mat of forth several ceramic vials and jars from his pack. While setting one of the vials on a mossy stone, the vessel rolls off and drops a foot and a half. Zanarkand notices, but does not seem perturbed; the fragile-looking vessel is unharmed by the fall. After picking up and setting out his materials, he uncorks and mixes several elixirs, which in turn release various smells. As he uncorks a very potent, savory-smelling jar, he inhales deeply and begins to smile. Throughout the next few minutes of his work, he seems as jovial as can be and even hums to himself.

After he is done, he puts the materials away, but stays sitting on his knees in the open space.

"Lend me your weapons," he says to the gathered companions, "And I shall reinforce our strength."

[Sabishii]

Alyda

Alyda eyes Zanarkand's movements with mistrust. "My weapon is a gift from the primal elders and I am not so apt to handing it to even partial strangers for them to apply to it stranger things. However, you have shown to me nothing to be mistrusted and so I shall only say that if I find it to be tarnished in any manner you will soon find my other weapons snugly at your throat." With that said she gingerly hands over her staff.

[Nightgaun7]

Artok hands his weapon to the stranger, but keeps one hand on his smaller blade.