The night at the farmhouse passes peacefully, and at sunrise Aarnr and Eilieen request (or demand) aid from their deities.  The wounded are healed, and all are fit and well by the time breakfast is finished and the group set out on the road, eastward towards Fairhill, still some four days' walk distant.

The first day goes well, without any further sign of Vortigern's familiar, or his bow-wielding henchmen.  Camp is pitched under the eaves of the forest on the southern side of the road, and the night passes uneventfully.

During the morning of the second day, under a sky which threatens rain, the group round a slight curve in the road and find two men who appear to be trying to repair a cart which has a lost a wheel.  A pair of drowsy oxen stand to one side of the road, tethered to a tree.  One of the men looks around as the party come into view, and raises a hand, "Hail friends!  Well met, indeed." he calls out, "May we beg a little assistance?"

Glad of the chance to get moving, but without the pursuit that has been plaguing the group, Aramil almost seems back to joy-loving half-elf everyone met at Reme. As the group comes across the stricken cart Aramil stiffens slightly, but only until the cause of their problems is noted. Not knowing much about such vehicles Aramil stands back, but is happy to help when asked.

This looks like work for the larger individuals in the group, so Ozzy makes himself scarce, fading to the back of the group as they approach with eyes and ears open. He had heard tale more than once of bandits using the old 'stranded traveller' ruse and he had no wish to verify if the tales were true. He tucked his coin purse inside his shirt as the group drew closer to the broken wagon...

SPOT: 19 - LISTEN: 21  ...for anyone hiding for an ambush.

Fergus is happy to be away from the farmhouse, even if it means moving closer to Fairhill.  From time to time he asks one of the others, usually Erista, whether they did the right thing with the animals but otherwise his mood is upbeat.  He goes back to travelling without his hood raised, evidently less concerned about being recognised.

When the broken cart comes into sight, Fergus returns a loud "Hello!" and starts forwards.

"Sure.  I'll help."

Erista assures Fergus without hesitation, and without any signs of impatience over the repetition, that we did the best we could have at the farmhouse in general, and certainly for the animals in particular.

But she seems to have similar concerns to Oswald's of the broken wagon - and no wagon repairing skills to offer in any case - and drifts to the side of the road herself.

Aarnr too has little experience of wheeled carts (sleds work much better in the marshy fens), but isn't going to let a little thing like that stop him.  In the absence of any worthy opponent, he's happy enough to pit his strength against a recalcitrant wagon.

He hasn't heard the tales of bandits using such a ruse ... which is probably just as well.

"Froggin' bad luck that ... thou want us to lift it up while thou get the wheel on ?" he asks.

"That's very kind of you.  Our thanks to you." the man replies, with a bow, "We've a long road ahead of us, all the way to Reme, and without the cart we could not get there with our grain."  He indicates a dozen or so full sacks piled by the road near the vehicle.

As Aarnr and Fergus move over to help with the cart, Oswald and Aramil hang back, unsure what to do, or nervous about getting involved.  Erista moves to the side of the road and makes herself comfortable in the shade of a large boulder.  Colwyn stays close to Aramil, and remarks conversationally, "I don't know nuffin' bout fixin carts neither.  I's doin' 'em a favour by keepin' out of it."

Corian, meanwhile moves closer, just in case he can assist in some way...

"Lucky thou met us then," Aarnr opines, spitting on his hands and nodding to Fergus as he prepares to take his share of the weight.  He's pretty sure he could manage it on his own, but doesn't want the young lad to feel left out.

"Lift with thy knees," he offers Fergus as encouragement.

"Oh, goodness," Eilieen agrees.  "Of course we can assist."  She has been extremely down for the last day, caught up in thoughts of sorrow for the tormented family, and worry for the animals.  'Offering' them to the nearby farms seemed like the wisest decision, but she can't help but feel there could have been something else they might have done.

At least, she tries to console herself at night, they gave the family a decent burial.  And blessings against whatever foulness the necromancer unleshed upon their land.

But the people in need strike a chord, and she straightens herself up, moving forward.  "I fear I am not the equal of our doughty men, but I can certainly bear up a fraction of the weight."

"We'll need to be froggin' careful we don't just tip the froggin' thing over," Aarnr remarks through gritted teeth.  Two strapping six-footers and Eilieen, most politely described as a 'slip of a girl' ... he shakes his head.  "Thanks  !" he growls, looking at the priestess but addressing his god.

Fergus moves closer but he doesn't immediately try to help take the weight of the broken wagon.  Instead, he walks around, examining the wagon from one side then the other.  His route briefly brings him close to Aarnr, "I'm not smart, Aarnr, but I'm not that dumb.  I might as well tell you to swing from the hips." Fergus taps the pommel of Aarnr's sword in passing, then turn his attention to the two men that greeted them.  "A bit early for harvest, isn't it good sirs?"

A bit early by at least a month.  It was possible that these two were hoping to sell last year's surplus at a mark-up before the new harvest hit the market.  But Fergus remembered stories of bandits using tricks like this and he wasn't entirely naive in such things.

'not that dumb' ... 'tell you to swing from the hips' ... Fergus tapping his sword ...

"Art thou trying to tell me these bat-fowling clot-poles are dangerous ?" the priest asks incredulously, staring the pair up and down.  "There's only two of them and ... lots of us.  Why, they'd have to have a pack of their pox-marked friends hidin' in those woods to make the fightin' worth our while !"

The second man smiles at Fergus, "It's been a good growing year - excellent weather.  We got a head start on the harvest, and thought we'd get to Reme ahead of anybody else from Fairhill."

The other man, the first who spoke, adds, "That's right, very good crop this year."  Then he looks at Aarnr, "Sir, I can assure you that we are but simple farmers on our way to market and in need of a little assistance."
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:17, Sun 16 Oct 2011.

A short bit back on the road the monk leans over to pick a flower.  Once in her hands she studies it with great interest, affording but a few glances towards her companions, making sure they do not run off without her.  As long as the cart is there she suspects they will not go anywhere and so her attention returns to the flower again.

Watching the scene unfold before him, Aramil suddenly gets an impression something isn't right. With the comment Aarnr makes about hidden companions in the trees and the way the men are just too nervous makes Aramil suspicious. Moving slightly towards the group he addresses the two men "No I'm no farmer, but I've lived near a market for long enough to feel that my friend here is talking the truth. And you both seem a little too eager for us to believe that this is an early first harvest. I feel there is something you are not telling us."

"I don't trust a man as will not look me in the eye, thou ruttish, clod-kissing scut !"  Aarnr announces.  "What's in them froggin sacks ?"

And things suddenly begin heading downhill.

Eilieen takes a few steps backward, putting herself slightly out of reach of the people they stopped to aid.  Aramil and Aarnr both have noted something...off...judging by their behavior, and she trusts both of them implicitly with such things (if not, for example, to know the Fifty-Two Steps to Ecstacy, or even the Thirteen to achieve bliss).

Reaching her spear (carefully laid on the ground to keep it clean while she assists with the wagon), she crouches to gather it up.  She doesn't bother keeping watch in search of trouble - Erista or the Nameless Monk are far better at spotting that than she is.  Instead, she keeps her eyes on the men before them, waiting for their reactions.

If it's actually harvest for the market, they're going to look a pack of fools...

When the dwarf starts cursing and yelling, Ozzy's own curiousity about whats in the sacks gets the better of him. Taking advantage of the chaos of the debate the little halfling moves through the underbrush at the side of the road like a mouse, coming up the side of the wagon behind the men so he can peek inside and open one of the sacks... hopefully unnoticed.

Move Silently: 22, Hide: 17

"See now, there's the problem." Fergus replies, no longer bothering to hide his scepticism.  "The weather this last season was pretty ordinary, an I ain't seen either of you in Fairhill before." Fergus lays a hand on the head of the axe at his belt.  "I reckon you should come clean 'fore there's trouble."

"The sacks?" the pair are starting to look very worried after Arnr aks his question, "Oh... those sacks.  Yes, that's grain that we're taking to Reme.  To sell.  You see we thought we'd get there ahead of the - " and then Fergus interrupts.

"Ah... you're from Fairhill, are you?  That's... unfortunate." the second man starts to back away, just a couple of paces.  "Fair enough.  We'll come clean.  Yes, er... yes...  That is, we aren't from Fairhill, and we aren't farmers, as you've likely guessed."

His companion looks at him incredulously, "Leave the talking to me!"  Then he smiles at Fergus, "We... "

"We agreed that you could do the talking, yes, and look where it got us." the other interrupts.  "I confess, we were standing here sizing up travellers on the road, planning to rob them with the assistance of some likely lads who are hiding back in the woods.  We probably wouldn't have tried... definitely!  Definitely wouldn't have tried to rob you though, because you're clearly much stronger than we are."

"Decklan!  Shut up and run you idiot!"  The speaker takes his own advice and turns to run off down the road, heading away from Reme.

Decklan, on the other hand, drops to his knees, wringing his hands pitifully, "Please don't kill me!  I'm new at this!"

"'Ere!" Colwyn sets off after the running man, calling back over his shoulder, "'E might be goin' ter fetch 'elp!"  As he runs, Colwyn draws one of his newly acquired knives and hurls it after the fleeing man, who shrieks and stumbles as the blade sinks into his buttock.

He lays in the road groaning as Colwyn plants a foot on his back and leans forward to say, "Yer can 'ang on 'ere a bit mate, jus' while we finishes talkin' with yer."

Aarnr shakes his head in amazement.  These puttocks obviously haven't got the first clue about thieving, least of all the golden rule: take the prize or die trying. If any man of his tribe had ever tried to surrender and plead for his life, he'd be lucky if his wife or mother didn't personally try to reduce his prospects.

"Froggin' pathetic !" the priest tells Decklan, casting a contemptuous glance at the cowering cur.

Shaking his head, the priest yells out to those assumedly hiding in the bushes.  "Right, thou lot !  I know thou art in there ! Come out here and keep thy hands where I can see them !"

"That was well done, la ... that was well done Fergus," Aarnr tells his companion, a new note of respect in his voice.  "How'd thou come to know so froggin' much about farming, anyway ?"

"And can thou have a look at our new cart," he asks Fergus. "Is that wheel really broke an' if so can we mend it ?  Only right we confiscate it so these rump-fed wagtails don't try this trick again."  Though the malicious grin might lead one to suspect Aarnr's own motives.

"Because I'm a farmer." Fergus answers simply.  "My pa is anyhow, an' I was."

"I know more about shearing sheep and growing crops than about fighting.  Only, well, my ma always told me to be careful 'bout getting in fights, 'cause I'd hurt people seeing as I'm so big.  Turns out she was right."

Fergus winces as the would be robber goes down with a knife in his backside.

"I can look at the wagon, but if it's broken for real there's nothing I can do.  I ain't a Carter or a Wainwright." Fergus almost seems to speak the capitals.  To him the family name and the trade go hand-in-hand.  "Serve 'em right if we did take the wagon, though.  They'd be lucky to get away with a floggin' and some time in the stocks if they went afore the sheriff in Fairhill."

"Ooo, well-caught."  Eilieen nods her head, pleased at the group's success.  She eyes the fleeing bandit with some disgust, and winces when the blade thunks solidly into his left cheek.  "Oh dear.  You...remain still and nothing will happen to you."  With an absent pat on the head for the grovelling man, she swishes down the road after their would-be assailant, now squalling in the dirt.

Those in the woods, she leaves for her companions.  After this little display, any thought of attacking has probably gone straight out the window, and the trick will be getting them to come out at all.

"Well-thrown, Colwyn, well-thrown."  She eyes his victim.  "Stop howling; there are priests in the temple who would pay for this kind of treatment."  Goodness knows, they had certainly offered her enough.  "It's always the ones who aren't interested who get the most curiousity," Eilieen mutters, kneeling down.  "Hold still."

Out comes the knife, which she offers up to Colwyn.  Then Eilieen staunches the bleeding - not much more - with the use of a minor healing charm.  "You'll remember this for days," she mutters, recalling the expressions on the faces of certain acolytes, priests, and high priests as they sat at the table for meals.  "Probably a good thing."

With a not-particularly-gentle swat for the victimized rump, she stands and sniffs in disdain.  "You really should listen to your friend.  He seems to have an excellent grasp of the essentials.  Those essentials being that stealing from travellers will eventually bring you to a far worse end than having a little dirt under your fingertips from an honest day's work."

OOC - Cure Minor Wounds, Orison.

Slowly strolling up to rejoin the others the monk inhales the scent of the flower held under her nose.  As she stops near the cart she takes in the general change of situation with a gentle smile.

"If you have jumped out of the bed it is too late to pull the cover over your head."

Observing the smacking of a rump by the priestess causes the lips to form into a circle and then draw apart into a grin.  The cart is rewarded with her full attention, the back turning towards the source of the grin.

Now that the 'danger' of being robbed has passed, Ozzy creeps out from behind the wagon 'tsk-tsk-ing' the bandits for their foolishness. Perhaps it is a bit hypocritical on his part, having lifted a few coins and the occasional apple himself, but he does his best to stand on the moral high ground of the travelling companions. " You ever think of going into entertainment? Easy money if you've any talent for it." he suggests to one of the bandits as an alternative to robbery - which clearly neither man was cut out for.

Everything seems to happen quite fast and Aramil is left blinking as a result. When his head catches up with the situation he smiles at how easy it seemed to prevent an ambush and moves forward. "Really, you both need to hold your nerve a little better. Newbies or not." he states to both figures. "Now what we really need to know is if your friends are going to come out and help you out or if they also have turned tails and run away. Not very manly of them is it!"

"Nor womanly.  But then, men do tend to lend themselves more readily to these enterprises."  The monk smiles at Aramil for a moment.  Then she shrugs.  "They do show some measure of self preservation and not being entirely foolish, by not fighting the odds."

Decklan, the second man, the one who didn't run, and the one who seems the keenest to talk, remains kneeling in the road as he replies, "I doubt they'll attack."  He watches as his injured companion limps back to join them, and as Fergus examines the cart.

"See, the way I was told it was that we were to stop wayfarers on the road, ask them for help.  Then, while they help fix the wagon, we see how tough they might be.  If we think they'll be easy marks, Jack gives the signal," he jerks a thumb towards his wounded comrade, "and our mates attack.  Only he never gave the signal, and close up you're definitely too much for our gang to take on, so he likely never would've."

Then, as an afterthought, he adds, "Oh, and the sacks are full of dirt.  They're just there to look good."

Jack glowers as he comes close enough to hear Decklan's confession, then sits down in the road next to him.  An action which results in a brief, though heartfelt, yelp of agony.  "If they've got any sense, our mates'll've buggered off by now." he mutters, "Left us to it, they have."

Aarnr is no less appalled than Eilieen, if for substantially different reasons.  "Froggin' sensible," the priest sneers. "Thou priblin' unchin-snouted mammets !  Thou should damn the odds and fight ... and if thou dies and find thyselves standin' before thy gods, thou can then hold thy heads high and spit in their faces and show them thy scars !"  He shakes his head in disgust at the lack of moral fibre.

"So ..." he nudges Decklan with his boot, "... is that froggin' wheel really broken, or just part of thy beef-witted scheme ?"

"No," Fergus answers for Decklan, "It's just been...they've taken the...peg out and pulled the wheel off.  Easy to fix." Fergus struggles to find the right words as he is busy working out how to re-fit the wheel.

Eilieen wrinkles her nose at Aarnr's words, though she says nothing.  He's merely offering them certain options, she reminds herself, neither more correct nor less than her own.  Speaking of which...she'd best at least make the attempt.  The priestess prods Jack's thigh - on the uninjured side, she's not a sadist despite the attempts of some of her peers to 'recruit' her - with her toe.  "Be thankful your 'friends' have run off.  'Friends' like those, you do not need - abandoning you to suffering or death.  Were I you, I would walk away from this life and never come back."

Pausing, she considers the contents of her pouch.

"Had you five gold coins apiece, what would you do with it, I wonder?"  She rests a fingertip on her chin in thought.  "Spend it on ale?  Women?  Or might you try to make something of yourselves - find real work?"  She appraises the pair.  "Are either of you accustomed to travelling?"
This message was last edited by unknown at 18:18, Wed 26 Oct 2011.

"It's like your mate said.  We made it look broken, but just enough so we could fix it for when we need to move the cart."

Jack, clearly the hardened criminal of the pair, says nothing.  He simply turns his head slightly to look past as many people as possible, his expression stern, and folds his arms.  Decklan is more cooperative, "He might be used to it, but I only left Reme about ten days ago, for the first time ever, so no, I'm not accustomed to travelling."

"As for what we'd do if you gave us five gold each... well the first thing we'd probably do would be to get robbed by our former mates."

He gives Eilieen a hopeful smile, "But I'd be prepared to risk it."

Then he peers at her more closely, "You're a Zadasthite aren't you?  Is it true what they say about Zadasthites?"  The smile grows even more hopeful...

Fergus finds himself a piece of tree branch and starts assessing it as a replacement peg for the wheel.  It will need cutting to length, and a certain amount of whittling down to fit the hole, but it should serve...

Aarnr splutters at Eilieen's improper suggestion.  "Don't froggin' give them coin," he argues, appalled, "make them work for it !"

"Looks like thy milk-livered mates have legged it," he tells Jack, obviously the brighter of the two captives.  "What'd thou say to earnin' coin instead of stealing it ?"

"Lots of heavy liftin'," the priest adds with a grin.

"Or there's always the magistrate," he muses not-quite innocently.

Jack ignores Aarnr, at least for a few more heartbeats.  Then he turns his head to look at the cleric, "So... you're saying that if I help fix the cart, I'll get paid for it, and you won't turn me in to the guard in Fairhill or the watch in Reme?"  Then, as an afterthought, he adds, "Or anybody else, anywhere?"

Still seated, he shuffles around to face Aarnr, wincing a little as he does so, "Because if that's what you're saying, then I'm saying that I might be interested."

Decklan looks away from Eilieen, his question unanswered, and his attention momentarily distracted, "If it means not dying, here or on the gibbet, I might be interested too."

"Now, now."  Reaching out, Eilieen absently honks Decklen's nose, a habit picked up when teaching unruly orphans.  "Oh, working for it sounds like a fine idea."  She frowns.  "And before you leap to any conclusions, no, not everything one hears about Zadasthites is true."  Consideration follows.  "About all Zadasthites," she amends.  Further thought puts a crease between her brows.  "Depending on what it is you've heard."

Giving up, the priestess shakes her head.  "In any case, Aarnr, the floor is yours with regards to helping fix the cart.  I would be more than happy to have someone carry my pack as I travel, and would be willing to pay them to reach the next town.  Safely.  So as not to get robbed by former associates.
This message was lightly edited by the player at 15:27, Mon 31 Oct 2011.

The monk stands near the ongoing talk, listening with an inscrutable expression on her face.

"The light of morning does not always bring sunshine."

She smiles at the less than accomplished accomplices, a small smile.  "Would either of you by chance have the peg for the wheel?"  The question is straightforward but the smile remains.

Fergus looked up sharply from his inspection of the wagon at Eilieen's mention of payment.  Even Fergus, who was prepared to overlook the attempted robbery, thought that was being a bit too generous.  He watched Decklan and Jack closely to see their response.

When they answer, Fergus has to resist an urge to step in and slap Decklan down for being impertinent to Eilieen.  The problem was he didn't know what being a Zadasthite meant, it just sounded rude the way Decklan said it.  Eventually he decides to leave it since Aarnr and Eilieen have the situation in hand.

Fergus turns away to look for something to replace the missing wheel peg.  He has just chosen a likely looking branch to whittle into shape when Nameless Monk speaks.  "Huh.  Wish I'd thought of that."  He stands waiting, still holding the branch and looking a little sheepish.

Colwyn frowns at Eillien and says quietly, "If'n we takes their cart, luv, then yer won't need nobody ter carry yer stuff."

The prisoners seem oblivious to this remark, as Decklan cheerfully volunteers the information to the monk that, no, they don't have the peg.  "The others thought it would look wrong if we had it on us when somebody helped to fix the cart, but searched us first because they thought we were thieves."

"Or maybe they just didn't trust us, you idiot." Jack interjects.

Then Decklan looks back at Eillien, "Well, you know, things... about what goes on in the temples, and why a temple has more beds, and more comfortable ones, than the finest inns in Bards Gate."

And he winks at the priestess...

"I am trying," Eilieen murmurs back to Colwyn, "to encourage them to honest work."  That's the idea, anyway, until Decklan continues the ill-advised train of thought.  Anyone with an ounce of wisdom* should have figured out which way the wind blows.  Apparantly Decklan is lacking.

Then again, Eilieen considers, had he wisdom he would likely have done something other than be the bait for brigands.  Like...join the temple of Zadastha, comes the unpleasant thought.

"Ah, those things," she replies, all honey and smiles.  "Yes."  The smile fades, the honey crystalizes.  "I left the temple, Decklan, because I believe in love for my fellow people - love, compassion, and healing for all, even foolish, greedy men in dire circumstances!  Not because I seek a roll in either the hay or a comfortable bed."

She looks around at the hard-eyed warriors and priest nearby.  "You would do well to forget what lies in your pants and concern yourself with keeping your head attached to your shoulders.  Your companion might be suffering from a cut in his rear, but it seems we missed the hole in your skull - the one from which your brains have leaked!"

"They're all yours, Aarnr.  If you wish to make them work for their freedom, I warrant Decklan has a surfeit of energy!"  Turning away, she strides to the other side of the road.  First Eilieen removes her pack, laying it down on the ground (the side that doesn't touch her on the bottom).  It becomes an impromptu chair, the priestess sitting upon it with her back to the scene at the wagon, the very picture of affrontment.

*...for that all-important Sense Motive roll.

Aarnr is much puzzled over how the issue of coin now seems to have become his responsibility ... but then he doesn't much trust the tiny bits of metal that hold civilised folk in thrall, preferring goods and livestock.  This cart and the two oxen, for example.  Despite his threat to hand the would-be robbers over to a magistrate and good riddance, his options boil down to keep 'em or kill 'em, and neither look worth building up a sweat over.

He's just as surprised as Fergus when the Nameless one asks after the missing peg, and smugly pleased at Jack's answer.  "We'll be needin' that after all," he nods to Fergus with the branch in his hand.

"Right then," he addresses the prisoners, "my god is Bowbe, and thou can say what thouh like about him."  He pauses, just in case the pair need any helpful explanations regarding the beserker god.

"She has to be nice to thee," he points to Eilieen.  "But I'm supposed to fight you to the death or put you to work.  Thou can choose."

Aramil watches the others deal with the two would-be robbers with a smile. He has seen too many of both characters to hold a grudge or even be surprised. What is surprising is his lack of input into the conversation. His mirth increases with the suggestive comments made to Eileen, mainly due to the expected reaction. No-one who spends more than a full day with the priestess would miss how her temple is a thorn in her side. This becomes a full out laugh as Aarnr states his position of be killed or work. And the priest of Bowbe would probably finish of both before he even reached a sweat.

Turning to both men Aramil finally finds his voice and decides to use it. "Well my would-be robbers you have been given a choice. I'd suggest the work as the fight would just delay us later when Aarnr has finished with you. Not really worthy of a ballad, but a inn sing-a-long could be styled out of your unfortunate situation. What to title such a song? The dangers of the open road? How not to rob along the highway? "

Ozzy giggles and says to Aramil, " Oh come on now, that's an EASY one...

Breakin' rocks in the hot sun
I fought the law and the law won
I fought the law and the law won.

I needed money cause I had none,
I fought the law and the law won
I fought the law and the law won.

...c'mon, you remember the words, right?" he says, then continues singing as the little bard loves to do...

I left my baby and it feels so bad
Guess my race is run
She's the best girl I ever had
I fought the law and the law won
I fought the law and the...

Decklan seems a little confused as his harmless question regarding religious doctrine  seems ready to erupt into a full-blown inquisition and possible holy war.  He's also shocked to discover that the large, hairy, foul-mouthed man seems to be a priest of some sort.

Jack looks at Aarnr, and says slowly and carefully, "So... you're saying we have a choice then... death or a brief period of servitude?  Would that about sum it up?"  Then, just to be on the safe side he adds, "I'm not trying to make trouble, I just want to be clear on this."

The two bards start discussing songs to immortalise the events of this day.  The possible choices don't seem particularly complimentary regarding the dashing and daring highway robbers.

"You just want us to mend the cart.  We're not talking about lifelong slavery or aught?"  He seems about to say something further, but stops when he catches sight of Fergus drawing a knife.  Somehow the efficiency with which the big youth uses the blade to pare down a branch does nothing to reassure the would-be bandit.

Aarnr's brow furrows as Jack tries to complicate what seemed to be a simple solution to him. "Thou will not be a slave," he tells him, "thou will work and thou will earn thy coin."  He hadn't really thought through the whole thing and was wishing he'd picked the fight to the death option instead.

"As to how long ... thou will work till she deems thy lesson learned."  He nods towards Eilieen, rather pleased with himself, as he's sure it's mostly her fault he's even having this conversation.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:24, Sun 06 Nov 2011.

Ozzy, ever the entertainer, does an uncanny impression of Jack, right down to the accent as he says sarcasticly, "So... you're saying we have a choice then... death or a brief period of servitude?" and then bursts into the raucous laughter of a child. Wiping a tear from his eye, he says, " YES! THATS what work IS! A life of servitude before death! If you're lucky enough you can retire...

WELL I BEEN WORKIN' IN A COAL MINE
GOIN' DOWN DOWN
WORKIN' IN A COAL MINE
WHEW ABOUT TO SLIP DOWN

FIVE O'CLOCK IN THE MORNIN'
I'M UP BEFORE THE SUN
WHEN MY WORK DAY IS OVER
I'M TOO TIRED FOR HAVIN' FUUUUN

LORD I AM SO TIRED...
HOW LONG CAN THIS GO ON?

I BEEN WORKIN' GOIN' WORKIN'
WHEW ABOUT TO SLIP DOWN

Ozzy ends it with another song, one of his all time favorites by the great Bard Devo.
As bellows the final riffs he dances around the wagon, nearly falling in the ditch in the process.

Fergus keeps his head down and concentrates on whittling a new peg, though he can't giving a short laugh at Ozzy's musical takes on criminal enterprises and work, "You wouldn't know a hard day's work if it bit you, Ozzy."

Fergus holds up the finished peg for a brief inspection.  He nods, satisfied, though the workmanship is crude at best.  "That should do it, till Fairhill.  See, uh, Jack?  We can fix it, you'll have to think of something else."

"Oh, lessons learned," Eilieen mutters, still piqued.  "Indeed.  Would that they had to carry the cart to the nearest town, that might be sufficient."

With a sniff, she moves to the side of the road and stares off toward the horizon, her slim form radiating fury.  Always the same.  She tries to assist, and people ask for a differnt kind of 'help'.  She preaches about love, and the talk turns to beds.  She brings up Zadastha, and it's 'nudge-nudge, wink-wink, say no more'.

At times, it's enough to make her want to lay about herself with a willow switch, but that would probably buy into some stereotype.

But she chuckles at Ozzy's antic's and Fergus' dry observation.  Rubbing a forehead, Eilieen finally sighs. "Whatever work seems sufficient.  You will be paid for what you do, not simply paid."

Aarnr is not so sure he's willing to inflict an honest living on anyone, but he'd rather face a pack of wolves armed with Fergus' pointed stick than argue the point with Eilieen right at the moment.  And to think Bowbe's priests are the ones with the reputation for being downright grumpy !

But he too finds a wry smile being forced from his lips by Ozzie's song (good beat, nice and loud) and an outright belly laugh when the halfling almost ends up in the ditch.

"So," the priest rumbles, "let's get our cart fixed so we can be on our way."  Assumedly someone knows how to drive oxen.  If not, then perhaps his own hitherto undisplayed talents might persuade them to cooperate. <sup>1

1</sup> Craft (leatherworking): D20+3

With the assistance of the two would-be thieves, and a certain amount of cursing and swearing from... certain parties, the cart is lifted and the wheel fitted back onto the axle.  A fist-sized stone serves as a hammer to drive the makeshift peg into the waiting hole, and the cart is repaired, in less than an hour.  Jack, at least, has performed this kind of task before, though Decklan is clearly a novice.

The oxen watch the whole proceedings with an air of detached indifference, perhaps realising that the repairing of the cart will result in their inevitable return to servitude.

The rest of the bandits are, doubtless, also observing the scenario being played out on the road, but choose not to get involved, which is probably for the best.  Their best...

When it comes to loading up the cart, the bags of earth which had been used as part of the deception are not included.  Instead only the party's belongings are loaded, and it becomes clear that anywhere between two and four people (depending on which individuals are involved) will also be able to ride.  A brief discussion reveals that, of the adventurers, only Fergus knows anything of handling animals (unless Erista's owl and a cat that Eilieen once owned are counted).  Decklan also knows a little about oxen, and informs Fergus that they're, "A bit like horses, only not quite so helpful."

The beasts are put back in harness, having apparently decided that today is not a propitious day for an uprising against their oppressors.

Then, a few more moments to ensure that all is secure, and the newly-repaired vehicle starts along the road to Fairhill, driven by Fergus and followed by, among others, Jack and Decklan...

After a few minutes walking beside the cart, Corian remarks, "Well, this is splendid.  With all the equipment in the cart, and the opportunity for us to take turns resting every so often, I expect we'll make much better time than anticipated."

Erista cracks an eye open, remarkably, at almost exactly the moment the cart is repaired, and finally pushes herself up from her shady spot.  She stretches a little, wanders over, affirms her unfamiliarity with oxen with a shrug and, "Back at home we just used horses, and by `we', I don't mean `me'."

And then she climbs up into the back, so that people can hand her packs and things and she can sort things out on the wagon.  Where, when that's done, she sits down, because, you know, she's already there, and all, so it just makes sense.

Eilieen remains as prickly as her long-lost but still-loved tabby, a ferociously independant beast dedicated to its youthful owner and none other.  Eschewing the wagon for the moment, she paces alongside it with grim determination and a face darkened by lingering irritation.

But time spent walking without a pack on her back makes her appreciate Corian's words, and she sighs, working the kinks of annoyance from her shoulders.  The priestess cocks an eyebrow at Erista, seated comfortably upon a pile of packs.  Well...it does make sense.  She doesn't think of it very often, but on occasion Eilieen wonders if the little sorceress grows tired of hurrying to match the strides of her taller companions.

Pursing her lips in irritation, she stares down at her now-travel-stained clothing; she'll have to get something new when they arrive in town.  Even a drab tunic and hose would be preferable at this moment.

"Fergus is a clever one," she decides out loud, a ghost of a smile appearing on her face like the sun peeking from behind the clouds.  "Being the only one with familiarity, he will enjoy the drover's seat for our travels."

Fergus sits happily on the driver's board, whistling tunelessly and giving the reins a flick whenever the oxen seem intent on stopping.  He looks the very model of rural contentment, a farmer off to market, except that he's missing a straw hat and a stalk of wheat to chew on and, in their place, has acquired an assortment of arms and armour and a very peculiar cargo.*

"I'm not." Fergus shakes his head slowly at Eilieen's comment, "Really."

*Apologies to Aramil and Ozzy for the complete lack of musical talent.  And to Erista, no I didn't mean you're peculiar.

Ozzy hops into the back of the wagon as it starts off and catches the whistling coming from Fergus. Sure, it's a little off-key, but it is enough of a whistle to bring another song to the halflings little heart who breaks again into song as the wagon rolls along...

" Alabama, Arkansas, I do love my Ma and Pa,
But not the way I do love you.
Well, holy-moly, me-oh-my, you're the apple of my eye,
Girl I never loved no one like you.

Man oh man, you're my best friend,
I'll scream it to the nothingness,
There ain't nothin' that I need.
Well, hot and heavy, pumpkin pie, chocolate cake and Zadastra,
Ain't nothin' please me more than you.

Home. Let me go home,
Home is whenever I'm with you.
Oh home, let me go ho-o-o-ome,
Home is when I'm alone with you!"

...at which point he picks up Fergus' whistle and adds a beautiful accapella accompaniment, hitting all the high notes the big farmer seems unable to purse his lips around.

_{* Edward Sharp & The Magnetic Zero - "Home"}

The big priest is still trying to work out how it went from being his cart to our cart and now he can't even get a froggin' ride !

Still he doesn't entirely trust this new-fangled form of transport, preferring to rely on his own two feet, matter not that the oxen are plodding beasts and the whole procession travels a bit slow for his tastes, despite their patron's optimism.

"Keep an eye out for any more beslubberin', boil-brained bandits," he suggests, "perhaps the next lot will have somethin' more froggin' useful !"

When not looking for trouble, Aarnr keeps a surrepticious eye on Fergus, figuring to learn the ropes in the hope that one day he might be permitted to drive the cart too.  Whistling seems to be the key ...
This message was last edited by the player at 15:15, Fri 11 Nov 2011.

The remainder of the day progresses well, with only light rain showers broken up by sunny spells.  The travellers make good time - having their equipment in the cart means that even those who are afoot can travel that much faster.  After perhaps an hour, Colwyn gives Jack and Decklan a pack each to carry, grinning as he explains, "Might as well make the buggers work fer their wage.  We can take it easy if we want, but they's bein' punished."

In the late afternoon a group of men come into sight on the road, some mounted but most on foot, travelling westward as the party heads east.  As they come closer, it becomes apparent that three of them are mounted, and that all are armed and armoured.  Closer still, and it becomes clear that the lead rider is, in fact, a woman, and that all of them, the three riders and the eight footmen who follow them all bear the arms of the Grand Duchy on their shields.  The woman and the footmen are wearing studded leather, while the other two riders are clad in chainmail.

While still a good twenty yards away, the woman raises her hand and her followers all stop, though she rides a couple of yards closer and calls out, "Good day to you, travellers.  I am Sheriff Jallara Zein of the Grand Duchy, charged with the protection of those who travel the Tradeway.  Where are you bound, this fine day?"

"There's clever and there's clever, Fergus," Eilieen notes.  "But wait...what do we have here?"  She peers ahead at the group pacing toward them.  Mounted, heavily armed and armored.  Worthy of some concern.

But the woman's words erases all her concerns...well, all her concerns for herself, less so any lingering concerns for their two 'charges'.  Fortunate for them, indeed, that they have been chosen to carry packs; they fit better.  Eilieen moves to the fore after a brief check to see if her holy symbol is prominently displayed (it is, and not in her cleavage as so many of her friends in the temple chose).

"Good day, Sheriff Zein," she calls back.  "We travel to Bard's Gate, in fact - a bit of a trip, I must say!  Have you any news of dangers upon the road?"

Beyond that, she'll let the faster talkers of the group deal with any obfuscations and misdirections.

Ozzy sits up to full attention as he sees the group approach and then as they call out name and title, he withdraws, shrinking back down into the back of the wagon and doing his best to blend with the floorboards. He watches as Eileen answers, but the fear in his little heart grows stronger, urging him to run. They were after all, travelling in what was technically a 'stolen' ride. He could only hope some other travelling victim of the bandits had not yet reported the two men and their scheme.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:35, Wed 16 Nov 2011.

Happily walking beside the cart Aramil starts to talk to himself. It soon becomes apparent that he is composing something, sounding a little like a form of poetry or a heroic story, the type told in inn and around campfires. While working on his project the group notices the riders ahead and Aramil tenses slightly. As they come into contact and the riders introduce themselves Aramil relaxes again and takes up a casual stance.

Happily Aramil allows the others to take the lead when talking to the Sheriff. Eileen seems content to talk a little, but Ozzy seems to wish that the cart swallow him up. With a raised eyebrow the half-elf joins the conversation, trying to draw the lawmens eyes away from his little friend.

"Good day Sheriff" Aramil replies to Zen's welcome. "A fine day for travelling, though we did notice some men in the trees back along the roadway. Not sure what they were doing, but we have heard that it is not safe for the unwary traveller."

As befits a holy man and a warrior bold, Aarnr spends most of the journey sulking. The creak of the hastily-mended cartwheel besides him is a constant reminder that his prize was stolen from him, and the frequent sunny spells make the day uncomfortably warm, though if he weren't so contrary he'd at least admit the resultant increase in humidity is most welcome.

Even the sudden arrival of the strangers proves to be a great disappointment. Not only are those that greet them on the trail not bandits, but they claim to be foot-licking guardsmen of these lands.

Aarnr's first instinct might be to attack them anyway, just for the joy of it, but he's been in civilised lands long enough to know that while such might be immediately satisfying, it is likely to cause more trouble than they're worth.  Nor is Aarnr that stupid ...

With a sigh, the big priest holds his tongue, lest the gleeking rank-skinned mammets take offense, looking hopefully at Fergus on the off chance his knowledgeable friend can tease loose a dangling thread in the guardsmen's tale and denounce them as imposters.  That lie about the 'fine day' might be it ...

Sheriff Zein nods as Eilieen speaks, though she doesn't look at the priestess much after the first few words.  Instead her eyes rove over the rest of the party.  "Bard's Gate is it?  Then you've a fair way still to travel, right enough.  I should warn you that we've had reports of a band of outlaws on the road, though they generally prey on lone travellers and unarmed merchants and, by all appearances, would be unlikely to trouble your group."

"Cowardly scum they are, the lot of them, and you look as though you'd be well able to defend yourselves.  Though they might be capable of frightening the child there," she finishes, indicating Erista.

When Aramil mentions the possible ambushers among the trees, The Sheriff's gaze locks on the bard, "Our thanks to you, Sir.  We shall make the dogs rue the day they ever heard of the Tradeway."  She turns to command her force to move on, but before she can speak Corian interrupts her, "Excuse me, Sheriff.  Are you perhaps able to tell us if there is an inn hereabouts?  Obviously we can camp by the road, if we must, but with brigands in the area I had thought it might be better for us to find a secure refuge for the night.  Somewhere with reasonable food and good ale and wine."

The woman shakes her head, "The nearest inn would be the Drunken Cockatrice in Fairhill, and that's still at least a day's journey ahead of you.  I would advise you to set a good watch this evening."

Aarnr is destined to be disappointed.  Fergus seems a little over-awed by the Sheriff and doesn't seem likely to expose them as disguised monsters, eager for bloody combat.  Rather, he seems determined to shrink in upon himself, though given his size that's difficult.

Fergus is pleased when the Sheriff announces her intent to pursue the brigands, hoping that it means she will leave the group in peace.  He's less impressed at the mention of the Drunken Cockatrice since he would rather stay out of Fairhill altogether.

The sheriff wishes everybody a good day, and a safe journey, and then rides off at the head of her troop.  The two armoured knights nod greetings as they pass, but the footmen do nothing to acknowledge the travellers, except for one man near the rear of the column, who mutters "Afternoon Fergus." as he passes the cart. 

The travellers also go on their way, but in the opposite direction to the patrol...

With perhaps an hour to go before sunset, and the sky starting to clear, they reach a point where a sturdy wooden bridge crosses a fast-flowing stream, swolen by the recent rains.  Corian looks down at the water and asks, "Should we stop here, do you think?  It would be good to be close to water, for the sake of the beasts."

"Lucky we bumped into thee," Aarnr informs the two former bandits once the sheriff and her contingent are out of sight and earshot.  "Thou'd have had those froggin' foot-lickers after thee otherwise, and them less reasonable than us."

The priest cheers up no end once the forces of law and order have departed, and the look on Fergus face reminds him that the pair were going to skirt around Fairhill while the rest of the party ventured in ... and since Fergus is the only one that can drive the cart, Aarnr might even get to ride on it, unless there's too many others that feel the same way, or they get Jack and Decklan to carry the cart for them ...

Before commiting himself, Aarnr inspects the stream, ensuring that it is indeed fast-flowing, and keeping an eye out for signs of fish, as he's minded to try his luck to catch some for supper.

"Aye, as good a place as any," the priest admits grudgingly.

"Friend of yours back there?" Eilieen inquires of Fergus after a time, just as they arrive at the bridge.  A day of walking has worked the irritation from her system, and she's prepared to be pleasant, especially since it looks as if she won't have to go another day without a bath.

A cold bath, mind.  But a bath nonetheless.

"Certainly one of those guardsmen knew you..."  She glances around.  "I second the motion."  Third?  It doesn't matter.  "Fresh water, well-travelled, safe." She slants a look at their two 'assistants'.  "Not that any of the bandits around here would dare attempt this group...unless there are some more fearsome rivals of those we encountered earlier."

Ozzy sits up from his long afternoon nap, having fallen asleep not long after ducking down to the wagons floorboards to hide from the highway patrolmen. The last he remembered was hearing mention of a pub, so the bright cheery smile of expectation quickly drops into a sour pout as he sees only a babbling stream and a sturdy wooden bridge. He sighs, his shoulders drooping as he silently scoops up his pack and climbs down from the wagon, dragging his heels as he skulks off to the shadows beneath the bridge like a disappointed child...

Once there, and out of sight of his companions, he cannot help but smile. The sound of the brook is pleasing to the ear and the damp smell beneath the bridge was more like a fresh spring rain. Finding a dry spot in up the bank and closer to where the bridge meets the road, he actually finds it to be quite nice. He sits in the shadow of the bridge, listening quietly as the others set up camp and find dinner for the night. Little more than the pouting kid who 'didn't want to go camping' this weekend.

Fergus nods his head, automatically, in response to the greeting but feels to embarrassed to reply, though he couldn't say why.

As he later explains to Eilieen, "Not a friend, no.  Just someone I knew from Fairhill.  Kenner, I think was his name.  Or maybe Kennet."

Since the decision has been made to stop at the bridge, Fergus jumps down from the driver's bench and sets about unhitching the oxen.  While he works he looks about for a place where the oxen can get down to the river to drink, not too steep and not too boggy.  He sees Ozzy heading for the side of the bridge, but he only mutters "Troll." and returns to his work.

Fergus' comments serve to further cheer up Aarnr, though it is to the water he looks, not the bridge itself, hoping now perhaps to see bigger game than the fish supper he was after. "Scrags," the priest mumbles, following his big friend's example as his gaze wanders.

The decision taken, camp is set up in a clearing not far from the roadside, just a few paces from the brook upstream of the bridge.  Fergus locates a place where the oxen can get down to the stream easily enough, and the animals are soon wallowing in the fast-flowing water on the downstream side of the road, while the big farmer keeps a close eye on them, aware of the fact that bandits are not the only threat in this region - wild animals, goblins, orcs, and worse, are known to roam these woods.

The campfire is soon alight, and cooking duties appear to fall, once again to Colwyn, who doesn't seem to mind that much.  Aarnr spots a few reasonably sized fish in the stream, but is apparently distracted by Fergus' talk of waterside dangers.

Corian  watches the flames taking a firmer hold on the kindling, and starts feeding more wood into the fire.  As he does so, he asks those who are nearby, "I understand that Aarnr and Fergus would prefer to avoid Fairhill, but I think that some of us should at least go into the village to see if we can find out more about... " he glances at the two brigands, sitting on the ground just a couple of yards away, "... our destination.  Is there anybody else who would rather not spend tomorrow night at an inn and try to gather information?"

Watching the guards to see their reaction to the news of bandits in the trees, Aramil is slightly relieved that they will go and investigate. Not knowing much about travelling, apart from stories told back home, Aramil assumes the men will have moved on by now. The thought of an inn to stay in is a pleasant one, even if the news that it is still more than a day away is not. Aramil notices Fergus' reluctance with the guards, but leaves it well alone, just raising an eyebrow at the reply to Eileen.

As the others seem to think that the brook is a good place to camp, Aramil goes about his business. Still unsure of what to do, he does the chores that has become his job since starting out from Reme, but only what the others have told him to do. Slowly he is getter faster, though maybe not better at his allotted work. He offers to help Corian with dinner, as this is something the half-elf is familiar with, though not the kitchen's surroundings, or lack of.

Ozzy comes out from under the bridge as the fire is built and dinner preperations begin. He watches hungrily, but lacking any culinary skill, opts out from volunteering. When not watching the meal preperation, he spends the time poking at the fire with a stick, watching the end burn before snuffing it in the ash and then relighting it again. It kills time until Corian asks if there's anyone else who doesn't want the comfort of a warm bed and a bit of tavern food.

He sticks one finger in his ear, squidging it around to be sure he had heard it correctly, then answers, " No. I would rather not not spend a night at the Inn. That is to say, yes - yes I will." then scrunches his face as he reviews his own poor grammer and his use of double negatives to answer a question which still confused his small mind.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:02, Fri 25 Nov 2011.

"What about thou two codpieces ?" Aarnr inquires of Jack and Decklan.  "Are the foot-lickers after stretching thy necks ?"

Having spent his time frightening monsters away from the campsite instead of trying to catch fish, the priest is pleased that Colwyn has the evening meal well in hand, even with Aramil's assistence.

Aside from offering the odd comment or posing the occasional question, Aarnr continues to keep an eye on the river, not trusting the speed with which it flows.

"Thou know the lie of the land," he addresses Fergus, distractedly, having seen a suspicious ripple that bears closer inspection, "can thou tell them that wish to dally in Fairhill where we'll meet 'em ... and describe it well enough they'll not get froggin' lost ?"

As the party sit around the fire, waiting for dinner to cook, and discussing their plans for Fairhill, the sun slides down the sky towards the horizon.  Around them the air grows still and, where it is visible through the trees, the western sky blazes in shades of vermilion banded with dark clouds whose adges are the colour of fire.

Jack and Decklan, with some prompting, confirm what Fergus had said about them earlier - that they are not from Fairhill, and they further attest that they have no reason to believe that anybody in the village will recognise them.  They have no qualms about sleeping at the inn, but further enquiries from Colwyn reveal some confusion regarding who the pair expect to pay for their beds.  This is clearly something that will bear discussion.

Aarnr asks Fergus about a likely meeting place near the village.

But before the farmer can answer, a woman's scream splits the evening air, followed by a yell of pain which sounds male, but is cut short almost immediately.  The noises seem to come from the general direction of the road towards Fairhill...

"I didn't hear a froggin' thing," Aarnr announces before anyone can ask. "Dinner ready yet ?

Eileen lets the matter of Fergus' 'associate' drop with only a glance back at Aramil; Fergus seems a touch embarassed by the whole affair, and she can certainly understand that.  If they met one of her peers from the temple, Eileen wouldn't want anyone from the group striking up a conversation with them.  Gods above, what would they end up thinking of her?

An ugly consideration.

She sits quietly as the other talk, absently brushing the dirt from her clothing, only making a face when it becomes obvious their two lay-about 'servants' are rather expecting them to pay for their rooms.  As if she would...

Then the scream.  The shout.  Halfway to her feet, spear in hand, Eilieen pauses to give Aarnr a disbelieving stare.  "For shame, Aarnr!"  Then she's off at a run.

It could be a trap, she knows.  But that's a chance she'll have to take.

Erista follows Eilieen, also running, although her run doesn't carry her quite as quickly.  Astral, on the other...wing, flies on ahead, seeking the source of the sounds.

Colwyn snatches up his shortbow and quiver of arrows, and sets out after Eilieen and Erista at a run, calling back to Aarnr over his shoulder as he goes, "Like to be a bit longer yet!"

Sitting around waiting for the food, Aramil continues to work in his prose and add to the general conversation. When the two new additions indicate that they were expecting others to pay for lodging his right eyebrow raises and he shakes his head in a negative manner. There is not a chance that Aramil will pay for these two. not killing them is one thing, but helping them out, when really they are just trying to get the best out of the situation is not going to happen. If the party was less capable the two would have happily cleaned the party of all valuables and moved on. Don't think that this is a grudge, just Aramil looking out for himself, like he has always done.

The scream and then the yell has Aramil on his feet before a thought enters his head. After the last time, he stands watching the others reactions before running headlong into a trap. The girls seem to have missed that lesson from the attack be the creature, though the half-elf is still very wary. REmoving his sword from its sheath and then standing guard Aramil states to the others that are left by the fire "I will stay here and guard the campsite. Better wait to see what it is then all of us rushing headlong into trouble."

" And I will stay here and guard Aramil." Ozzy says as he steps up next to his much taller companion. He remembered the last time everyone ran into the dark searching for a screamer, it had not gone well and had resulted in the group becoming the hunted rather than the hunter. Keeping this in mind, he decides staying near a well lit fire is his best option for survival at the moment.

Doing her best to keep up with the humans, Erista waves a hand forward, sort of pointing.  "Couple...fighting...something...big.  Losing," she huffs out between breaths.

Fergus was standing in the edge of the river, cooling his heels without risking the stronger current and deeper water further out.  He had been contemplating Aarnr's question and had just remembered a suitable campsite outside Fairhill when he heard the scream.

His first thought is to run over and help.  His second thought is that the scream is likely to be the jumbled up monster setting a trap.  His third thought is to follow Eilieen to make sure she doesn't get hurt.  His fourth thought is that somebody needs to watch the campsite and look after the oxen.

Fergus isn't used to having so many thoughts at once and the end result is that he stands around for a long moment looking painfully confused.  Eventually his better nature wins out and he snatches up his axe to run after Eilieen, Erista and Colwyn.

Without hesitation the monk moves out after Eilieen and the others, running fast to catch up, although once she reaches the side of the priestess she holds back her own pace to remain at her side.  She gives the woman a brief smile before focusing ahead again, the face setting on a serious and determined expression, eyes scanning the area in front of them.

"Froggin' fobbin' fen-sucked flax-wenches !"  Aarnr expresses his opinion on those who charge headlong ON AN EMPTY STOMACH into what is almost certainly the return of that creature and its baby out for vengeance.  That they could have been fooled once ... he glares at Aramil, but at least the bard seems to have learned his lesson and is staying put ... but a second time !

With a noise that is half-sigh, half-roar and three-quarters froggin' annoyed, the big priest takes up his overlarge blade and charges after the others, continuing his litany of invective ...

Corian leaps up and follows after Aarnr, also cursing (though with considerably less zeal and competence).

Sitting near the campfire, Aramil and Ozzy find themselves suddenly accompanied by only the two would-be highwaymen.  Jack looks about, briefly, and says, "You know, if you want to go and help your friends, we'll be fine here by ourselves."

In the gathering dusk the rest of the party of bold adventurers, less the two bards, burst out onto the Tradeway.  Looking east, in the general direction of the cries, a fearful sight meets their eyes.  There is a figure laying flat on the road about fifty yards away, unmoving, and a woman stands over the body, a sword held in one hand.

And standing over her, towering above her by a good four feet, is a monstrous creature, clad in ragged furs and wielding a massive club.  An ogre!  It raises the club and brings it down hard, with an impact that makes the ground shake.  The woman, clad only in travelling clothes and thus almost entirely unprotected, is caught by the blow and knocked off her feet.

The monster seems about to hit the fallen victims again, but then it catches sight of the adventurers.  It throws back its head and roars out what sounds like a challenge, and it starts to lumber towards the group.

A little way behind it, a second ogre emerges from among the trees at the roadside and moves towards the dead or unconscious victims...

The battlecry of the ogre reaches the camp, and Jack suggests, "It sounds like the others might really need that help."

OOC: Initiative rolls please.  For the first round only ranged attacks will be useful.  Anybody with any kind of ranged weapon or spell should also make any required rolls to use them.
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:57, Thu 01 Dec 2011.

Ozzy bounces on the toes of his feet, straining both left and right as he tries to actually see 'further' by adjusting the position of his head. The bellowing challenge with a heavy bass undertone really perks his attention and he actually walks in a quick circle as he starts to head out to watch the fight, then reconsiders. Looking up at Jack he says, " Yeah right. We run off to help, and you just help yourself to whatever we leave behind, right? Do I look like I just fell off the turnip wagon?" then waves him away dismissively as he looks back up the road toward the growing sound of combat. He looks up to Aramil like a child wanting to go outside and play, his small mind puzzling how best to make this all come together, " Mebbe' we should get Jack and his buddy a knife and have them come help too, huh? I gots a coupla' javelins they could poke at the monster with, or they could just come and sing back up chorus while we encourage the winning team?" he squeaks out rapidly, trying to convince him before the fight was over and they missed out on all the fun. " C'mon Aramiiiiillll. Lets go see the fiiiiight." he finally adds with the drama only a little one can muster.

Eileen's eyes widen.  She has never seen ogres before, and now their small group of neophyte adventurers faces a pair of them.  But the fallen victims necessitate action, here and now.

At this range, though, there is little she can do.  So the woman grimly sets her teeth and continues to run forward, hoping to close the distance enough that both mauraudering beasts turn her way, away from the downed people.

OOC - Going to run forward (3x movement) for 90 feet/30 yards, cutting the distance down from 50 yards to 20 yards.  Initiative...I guess it doesn't matter this round. :)

Aarnr is lagging behind the others a pace or two and is slower to make out the creatures in the gathering gloom.

But at last the priest does lay eyes on them ... and far from quailing at the sight, he immediately picks up the pace, his stride lengthening as his dusty boots slam into the ground, the litany of curses degenerating into a gutteral roar as the mantle of his beserker-god descends upon him, as he races headlong towards the ogres, his great sword held high before him !

"RRrrraaaaaaaaaaaghhhh !!!!"

Closing in just a bit on the ogres the monk stops and quickly flings a rock at the second of the huge beasts, hoping to at least distract it from the people on the ground.

Fergus hurries to catch up with Eilieen.  As he closes, though, the sight that meets his eyes gives him pause.  Ogres!  The few times ogres had been found anywhere near the old farm, the entire militia had been rousted out.  And even that was mostly a case of driving them off.

Still, Fergus couldn't very well leave the beleaguered couple to their fate, so he takes a tighter grip on his axe and runs forward.  He joins Aarnr in an inarticulate war-cry, if only to keep his courage up.

"Rraaaaaaaagh!"

OOC: Initiative 11, move ahead 80' (fast movement)

Colwyn skids to a halt on the road surface.  "Gods!  'e's a big bugger, ain't 'e?"  Before he even finishes making this astute observation he has an arrow nocked, and is raising his bow.  After only a brief pause to take aim, he unleashes the shaft directly at the monstrous creature.

Perhaps a little too hastily...

Corian's arrival in the open space of the road is no less precipitous than Colwyn's, and is attended by his own shrewd analysis of the situation, "I say, it's an ogre!"

The next words out of his mouth are a little less clear, however, as he raises a hand and chants, "Diogelu mi nawr!"  The air around him shimmers and takes on the appearance of crystal for a moment, before fading back to transparency.

Erista jogs along, keeping up, more or less, until the ogres are actually spotted and everybody suddenly breaks into impossibly long-legged charges.  She falls a bit behind, then, but continues pushing forward, bare feet padding on the ground.  She drifts a little to the side as she goes, making sure to keep Aarnr and Fergus, most particularly, in between her and the nearest ogre.

As distances close and she does draw closer, she takes out her sling and starts whirring a rock over her head, releasing it when she finally gets near enough.

Astral launches off from Erista's shoulder, and flies ahead, towards the second ogre.  He tries winging past ahead of it, hoping to possibly catch its attention and draw it away from its current prey.

Ozzy and Aramil continue to discuss their chances of getting involved in what definitely sounds like a considerable level of action and excitement, while Jack does his best to encourage them to go and join in if they want to.  "Look... you people have done right by us, considering we were involved in a plan to rob you... well, not you specifically, but you know what I mean.  We're grateful for that, and what sort of show of gratitude would it be if we weren't sitting here when you came back, enjoying what's probably the only spot of dinner between here and Fairhill?"

Decklan adds his own input, "Why, it'd be no sort of gratitude at all, Jack."

Meanwhile...

Erista may have been the last to arrive at the party, so far, due to the (to her mind) unnaturally long legs of her companions, but she doesn't waste any time getting involved.  Her sling whirls around her head and sends a shot hurtling through the air to strike the advancing ogre squarely in the forehead.  Which, judging by how much it slows the brute, seems to have missed anything vital by a good five or six feet.

The halfling's owl familiar swoops away and arond, heading towards the second ogre...

Aarnr and the lead ogre close distance rapidly, and the cleric of Bowbe is forced to throw himself to one side as he comes within reach of his monstrous foe and its massive club slams down in an arc which produces a new rut, several inches deep in the road surface.

A small, fast moving ball of feathers starts swooping around the second ogre which turns towards the annoying distraction and bats at it with one outsized hand.  The attempted swat misses Astral so narrowly that the owl feels its feathers on the tip of one wing brushed by the monster's fingertips...

Fergus meanwhile is close behind Aarnr and reaches the ogre just as it is raising its club to strike again.

Further back, Colwyn and the Nameless Monk launch ranged attacks at the giant, but neither of them succeeds in hitting their target.  Colwyn curses under his breath, "Nadgers!" and reaches for a second arrow...

Corian, realising that, for the moment, even the nearer ogre is out of range of any of his spells, chooses to cast a defensive magic instead, before starting to move closer.  He does not, after all, know if there are more of the foul creatures hidden in the forest...

And Eilieen passes him at a run, seemingly determined to reach the two fallen strangers and give them whatever assistance she can... 

OOC: Nobody hurt yet (unless you count the minor irritation of the ogre hit in the head by Erista's sling stone.  That's likely to change next round...

Combatant         Init
Erista             23
Second Ogre        20  AC=16
Lead Ogre          17  AC=16
Aarnr Foultongue   14
Astral             14
Colwyn Akbar       12
Fergus Andarson    11
Nameless Monk      10
Corian              7
Eilieen             -
Aramil              -
Oswald Osbourne:    -

Characters' Apparent Health
Aarnr Foultongue: Good
Aramil:           Good
Eilieen:          Good
Erista:           Good
Fergus Andarson:  Good
Nameless Monk:    Good
Oswald Osbourne:  Good

Colwyn Akbar:     Good
Corian Barade:    Good

Their endless prattle does nothing to calm the over anxious bard who paces back and forth near the fire, pausing to look longingly up the road every time one of his companions lets out a yell of attack or anguish. One of the better parts of the story and here he was wasting away baby sitting a couple of incompetent bandits and an elf. He stops pacing as an idea occurs to him. He starts to reach for his lute, pausing to watch Jack and Decklans expression. Then he draws back and starts to draw his sword, again gauging their reaction. He hopes to read these two lousy card players well enough to know which to keep in hand...

Sense Motive: 18

Two of her companions are within striking distance of the first ogre, but Eilieen has little choice - with people on the ground, she must ensure their safety.  She and hers walked into this with open eyes, but for them, likely the choice was taken away.  Panting slightly, she slows her pace a touch but continues for the unconcious strangers.

If the ogre closes to them attacks her, well...she'll have to deal with that when it comes.

Zadastha, please - keep my friends safe!  Shield them with your love!

If only she had more than a feeble prayer to offer them.

OOC - Continuing to run for the unconcious people; at 60', I'll make it to them this round.

There's not much room for conscious thought between Aarnr's ears at the moment.  His entire being is focussed on carving up the beast-like creature that towers over him, with naught but animal instincts to pay any mind to his own safety.

Recklessly he swings his long-bladed sword in a great arc that but narrowly misses slicing open the ogre's belly, the roar in his throat only growing with that anger and frustration.

The reluctance to head after the sound is fading fast, almost too fast. As the others charge off Aramil is left wondering if he has let his fear get the better of him. As his little companion dances around like a puppy ready to play, the half-elf starts to head towards the noise, but is stopped by the thought of their things left unattended with the two potential robbers. Turning to Ozzy he says "Well my little friend you can have your wish. I think we should join the fun down the road, but with a few precautions." Turning to the two robbers that are trying to persuade them to go after the others Aramil continues. "I think you two will come in handy. Its time to make up for thinking that roadside robbery was the best that life had to offer. Now we shall see what you are really made of. And if you do it well, we might put you into a line or two of the great ballad that shall be written of our adventure."

With this said he checks the fire and the belongings left around the fire. With everything as secure as they can be, the half-elf carries anything of importance with him at all times anyway, he herds the two humans towards the noise with his sword.

Erista slows down rapidly, deciding that on the whole, she's getting closer than she'd like.  She sends another sling bullet over Aarnr's head.

The monk sighs as the rock she tosses decides it do not wish to meet any ogres tonight and thus she puts the sling away and starts moving towards the nearest of the two oversized lump that are using trees for toothpicks.  Maybe she could step on their toes and make them run home to mama.

Muttering under his breath, Colwyn fits another arrow to his bow, and aims a little more carefully this time.  It does no good.  The arrow flashes past the ogre and lands somewhere further along the road.

"Ye gods an' blue-arsed monkeys!"

The rogue glares at the bow, plucks at the string as if to test it, and then reaches for another arrow.

"This is yer last bloody chance.  Get this one wrong an' yer'll be kindlin' mate."

Corian moves forward, keeping an eye on the distance between himself and the nearest monster.  It's a tricky balance... close enough to cast a spell, yet far enough to be able to make an escape if he needs to.

He finally reaches a position which seems to meet both requirements.  Then, after a brief hesitation, moves forward a couple more paces.  "There... "

Ozzy really wants to join in the fight, or at least to observe it.  The yelling and bellowing sound very exciting.  Decklan and Jack, especially Jack, seem keen that he should do so, urging the two bards to go and assist their friends. 

Aramil finally takes matters into his own hands, drawing his sword, and urging Jack and Decklan to start walking towards the fight.  Decklan is quiet as they draw closer to the noises, but Jack is more talkative, "I don't know why you're dragging us along.  We'd have waited with the fire.  I mean you might get back in a bit and find everything gone without us there to keep an eye on it.  And it's not like we could help much in a fight - I'm pretty sure Decklan is unarmed, and all I have is a small knife for peeling fruit."
But still Aramil drives them along... 

Eilieen continues to run towards the downed humans, intent on assisting them, or at least on attempting to do so, even if it kills her.  As she runs she hears a rushing noise nearby and ducks her head reflexively.  There is no need to worry though - it's just another sling stone from Erista which passes the running cleric and slams into the ogre again.

The bestial creature doesn't react though, being far too busy with trying to flatten Aarnr with a swing of its club, which the priest of Bowbe manages to turn aside with his blade before launching an attack of his own, forcing the ogre to step back to avoid being disembowelled...

The second ogre, standing over the still unmoving bodies in the road is still waving its hand ineffectually at Astral as the owl continues to circle around the creature, hooting frantically, though now from a slightly safer distance.

Eilieen passes the first ogre, which spots her from the corner of one of its beady little eyes and yells in rage.  The massive club swings towards her, and the impact lifts the woman off her feet and sends her sprawling about fifteen feet further along the road. 

The ogre's yell of triumph is almost drowned out by Fergus' own as he takes advantage of the monster's momentary distraction to slam his axe into the thing's ribs, bringing another yell, but this time one of pain.  The second ogre suddenly snaps its attention away from Astral, and starts forward to assist its partner, shouting a challenge as it does so...

Still on the way to the road, Jack stops in his tracks at the suddenly increased yelling and screaming, "Oh, that doesn't sound good."

Colwyn launches an arrow in the general direction of the ogre, but misses hopelessly before taking a moment to examine his weapon.  Perhaps the recent damp weather has affected it in some way?  That's his excuse anyway, and he intends to stick to it.

Another one of the party decides that close combat, while more dangerous, may be the way to deal with this menace.  The Nameless Monk begins to run towards the fight, ready to lend her hands, feet, and sundry other body parts to the fray...

Corian also moves forward, though a little more hesitantly, as he prepares to cast a spell which will rain destruction upon the monstrous enemy...


OOC: Oh yeah... the "nobody hurt" thing has certainly changed.  Not necessarily for the better.  My poor ogre!  :( 

Combatant         Init
Erista             23
Aramil             21
Second Ogre        20  AC=16
Lead Ogre          17  AC=16
Aarnr Foultongue   14
Astral             14
Eilieen            13
Colwyn Akbar       12
Fergus Andarson    11
Nameless Monk      10
Corian              7
Oswald Osbourne:    -

Characters' Apparent Health
Aarnr Foultongue: Good
Aramil:           Good
Eilieen:          Dying?
Erista:           Good
Fergus Andarson:  Good
Nameless Monk:    Good
Oswald Osbourne:  Good

Colwyn Akbar:     Good
Corian Barade:    Good

This message was last edited by the GM at 19:26, Fri 09 Dec 2011.

As the ogre gives loses its interest in him, Astral takes a wider turn and then glides down towards Eilieen, landing with a brief flutter on her crumpled form.

Predictably, the compassionate Eilieen hastens to aid the fallen travellers.  Almost as predictably, her better nature leads her into trouble.

The sight of Eilieen sliding, limp, across the road turns Fergus' brash warcry into a howl of genuine rage.  He allows the momentum of his first swing to turn him in a complete circle and by the time his axe comes 'round again it has all his strength and anger behind it.

Another arrow hurtles through the darkening air, and this time Colwyn gives a whoop of victory as the projectile bites into the ogre's stinking flesh.  "Got yer, yer bugger!"

And he reaches for another arrow, as he call's out a warning, "Look out, the other's on its way!"

On some level Aarnr is aware that Fergus is fighting at his side, the young farmer consumed with the same reckless abandon as himself.  Instintively he determines that his friend is neither foe nor rival ... though Fergus' mere presence spurs the priest on, causing him to hack at the ogre with his two-handed blade with yet more ferocity, the roar becoming an almost gutteral scream ...

Judging the range to be about right, Corian takes up an appropriate posture, and extends one hand towards the ogre.

"Taflegryn yn y tywyllwch!" he pronounces, and an orb of energy darts out from his fingertips, weaving and looping towards the monster and striking in a burst magical force.

Sprinting onwards the monk heads in the direction of the downed priestess and the second ogre, keeping an eye on the first ogre in case it notices her as well.  As she closes in on it she throws herself into a roll to make it as hard as possible for any attack to actually hit her.

Shaking her head, Erista dips a hand into her pouch, and brings out the potion from earlier, pulling out the stopper.  Then she throws it towards Eilieen.  The fragile glass sails through the air and drops towards the hard ground; just before it hits, she points at it and calls out.  "魔 術 手!"  Crooking her finger slightly, she guides the bottle more gently towards the priestess.

OOC: If Nameless gets there safely, she'll guide it more towards her hand - if she isn't there, she'll try to tip the bottle to pour into Eilieen's mouth.

Last to arrive on scene by blessing of his short legs, Ozzy's eyes nearly pop from his head at the sight of the two ogres. He stops some twenty yards from the lumbering giants, watching with anxious interest as Erista tosses - and then stops in midair - a small bottle for the fallen Eileen. He watches it all unfold as he brings his lute up and begins playing a few opening chords for a song of inspiration designed to turn the battle toward inevitable victory...

" Define your meanin' of war
To me it's what we do when we're bored
I feel the heat comin' off of the blacktop
And it makes me want it more

Because I'm hyped up, outta control
If it's a fight I'm ready to go
I wouldn't put my money on the other guy
If you know what I know oughta know

It's been a long time comin'
And the tables' turned around
'Cause one of us is goin'
One of us is goin' down

I'm not runnin'
It's a little different now
'Cause one of us is goin'
One of us is goin' down...

INIT: 8
INSPIRE COURAGE: +1 to attack and damage for anyone who can hear me sing :)

Erista hurries forward getting all too close to the ogre, which also places her closer to Eilieen.  The Namelss Monk also starts to run, but her destination appears to be the ogre nearest to the two fallen strangers.

Back in the woods, Aramil uses his sword to prod Jack in the region of the kidneys, thus encouraging him to keep moving...

The second ogre, the one which had arrived late on the scene, roars a challenge and breaks into a lumbering run as it sees its companion struggling a against Aarnr and Fergus.  The other ogre continues to battle against the two men.  It swings its club in Aarnr's direction again, but savage instincts play their part, and the priest of Bowbe evades the blow easily.  The weapon strikes a roadside tree instead, and the jolt sends it spinning out of the brute's hand.  Cursing and bellowing, Aarnr siezes the opportunity to drive his heavy blade in a sweeping cut which opens the ogre's guts...

Astral swoops close to Eilieen even as Erista draws a small crystal vial from her belt pouch and hurls it, the words of a spell springing easily to her lips...

Staggering, the ogre tries to use its left hand to hold the wound in its belly closed, while continuing to flail about with the right.  And an arrow sinks into its chest, seemingly unnoticed by the creature.

Floating in the air inches above Eilieen's face, the vial suddenly tilts over, and the stopper pops out.  Fluid pours out of it, splashing on the priestess' face in the vicinity of her mouth.  The woman coughs, takes a sudden shuddering breath and cries out in pain before laying still again... 

With a loud impact, Fergus' axe cuts into the ogre's hip and the monster starts to topple.  It's eyes glaze over.  As it falls the Nameless Monk throws herself into a diving roll to avoid its crushing bulk, and comes up on the balls of her feet close to the second ogre.

Ozzy and Aramil, along with Jack and Decklan burst out onto the road, where the two wood-be bandits again stop in the ir tracks.  Ozzy, who has been preparing for this moment since he left the camp, starts to sing, his voice surprisingly loud for one so small, and all of his friends within earshot immediately start to feel their spirits lift...

Loud though his voice is, it is almost drowned out by the thud as the ogre's body hits the ground, just as Corian's magic missile strikes it...


OOC: One down, eight one to go.

Combatant         Init
Erista             23
Aramil             21
Second Ogre        20  AC=16
Aarnr Foultongue   14
Astral             14
Eilieen            13
Colwyn Akbar       12
Fergus Andarson    11
Nameless Monk      10
Oswald Osbourne:    8
Corian              7
Lead Ogre          Down


Characters' Apparent Health
Aarnr Foultongue: Good
Aramil:           Good
Eilieen:          Dying?
Erista:           Good
Fergus Andarson:  Good
Nameless Monk:    Good
Oswald Osbourne:  Good

Colwyn Akbar:     Good
Corian Barade:    Good

Ozzy only glances toward the ditch where Eileen lies, having expected this when he signed on.
He uses her probable death to inspire him to sing all the clearer...

Define your meaning of fun
 To me it's when we're getting it done
 I feel the heat comin' off of the blacktop
 So get ready for another one
 Let's take a trip down memory lane
 (Do you remember me?)
 The words circling in my brain
 (And what you did to me)
 You can treat this like another all the same
 But don't cry like a bitch when you feel the pain

It's been a long time coming
 And the table's turned around
 'Cause one of us is going
 One of us is going down
 I'm not running,
 It's a little different now
 'Cause one of us is going
 One of us is going down...

Don't forget your +1 morale bonus this round when you roll :)

Fergus barely hesitates as the first ogre falls, pausing just long enough to wrench his axe free of the its hip before turning his attention to the remaining beast.

Hefting his axe overhead, Fergus charges towards the ogre, heedless of his own safety*  He brings the axe arcing down towards the ogre's head and chest, making up for a lack of technique with brute strength.

*A trifle ironic given it was Eilieen's haste, and subsequent injury, that got Fergus riled up.

Aramil takes in the scene and shudders at the form of Eilieen laying on the ground. Seeing one of the large creatures on the ground bleeding the half-elf wishes to give his companions a better chance. Words of elven form on his lips as he gets close to the standing ogre and then he speaks with clarity that is not in his singing. A feeling of power floods out of Aramil towards the creature as he attempts to slow the next set of attacks that will surely come.

"GRRAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRR !!!" Aarnr bellows in triumph as the first of the Ogres falls.   "RRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAGGGGHHHHHHH !" he continues, as he casts about for the second foe, launching himself forward as he spies it through the red mist that clouds his vision.

Closing swiftly, the priest brings his great blade around in a wide arc, screaming in triumph as the blow strikes true and he cuts a great gash ... in the tree.

With an eye still half on Eilieen's fallen form, and somewhat distracted by Ozzy's singing, Erista sends a stone about an inch over the second ogre's ear.

"Bloody Hells, we got one!" Colwyn exclaims as the first ogre hits the ground, the shock in his voice nothing compared to that on his face.  He readies another arrow and launches in the general direction of the second monster.

Unfortunately he has to aim high, to avoid hitting any of his companions in the gathering dusk and misjudges slightly.  The arrow lands somewhere far beyond the ogre...

The monk moves in to kick the ogre while trying to ensure she does not end up under its big and smelly feet.  At the very least she will hopefully keep it busy enough so that it forgets any person on the ground.

Oswald's song rings out across the battlefield, inspiring courage and determination in the hearts of his allies.

Having done whatever she can to aid Eilieen, Erista concentrates on the second ogre.  The range is a bit further than she'd like, and there is a lot of rapid movement around the target, which doesn't help matters, and her sling stone narrowly misses the brute's ear.

Aramil, meanwhile, having just arrived and made a quick assessment, hurries forward and speaks a few words of elvish, casting a spell at the monster.  The magic causes the creature to shake its head for a moment, but otherwise seems to have little effect.  Jack and Decklan, now left unattended and with everybody else's attention on the ogre, start to edge back towards the forest.

Throwing back its head, the ogre roars a challenge.  The cry is so fearsome that the two bandits freeze in their tracks, and a dark, wet stain starts to spread down the leg of Decklan's britches.  Those two, though, are not the target of the monster's rage.  A broken tree limb, doing service as a club, lashes out and slams into Aarnr's upper arm, spinning the cleric of Bowbe through a half circle and causing his massive blade to slam into a tree...

Colwyn launches another arrow, but it sails high above the creature's head and vanishes into the twilight...

As a yell of triumph comes from the ogre, along with a blast of fetid breath that would probably kill lesser foes than those who presently face it, the Nameless Monk steps to one side, and kicks at the side of the ogre's knee, to no effect.  The thing is too heavy to be unbalanced by such a blow.

It does, however, provide a momentary distraction which allows Fergus to make a leaping attack which brings his axe down on the ogre's shoulder with considerable force.  The blade, driven by all the young man's weight and muscle, plunges down through the monster's flesh and bone, tearing through both with ease.  The ogre's yell dies in its throat as blood suddenly gushes from its mouth, and those who are fighting it are quick to scatter as the creature drops its club and starts to sway...

With the nearest danger out of the fight, Corian dashes towards Eilieen and kneels to check if she is still alive.

A short distance away, the second ogre keels over with a crash like a felled oak, dead before it even hits the ground.

The ensuing silence is broken only by Decklan's terrified whimpering...

"Ogres!" Erista shouts triumphantly, whirling her empty sling over her head.  "We fought ogres!  And won!" she adds, feeling that, in fact, that warranted clarifying, as presumably anybody could merely fight ogres.  "And we saved people!"  Lowering her sling, she looks at Decklan and Jack, and points at the fallen ogres.  "Did you see that?" she asks.  "That could've been you!  'Cept you're half their size, so Fergus would have gone clean through.  Hah!"

And with this remarkably bloodthirsty image, the blonde moppet skips over to the fallen couple that we came to rescue, checking to see if either of them are alive.

At first Aarnr misinterprets his companions' shouts of victory as cries of terror, and he renews his assault upon the innocent tree with further vigor and enthusiasm ...

But at length Erista's proud exhultation penetrates the battle-fugue that grips him, and he abandons the attack, shoulders dipping in exhaustion as Bowbe's spirit leaves him and the pain of the ogre's final blow now strikes him in full measure, his great sword falling from a hand that can no longer hold it.

"Ow."

The priest grits his teeth, wincing as his fingers probe the mangled mess of pulverised flesh and cracked bone.

"She alright ?" Aarnr asks Corian, nodding at Eileen.  Despite his own hurts, he will give her what divine aid he can demand before tending to his own.

Corian looks up from where he examines Eilieen, "She's alive still, and breathing easily enough.  But I can't rouse her."

Colwyn smirks and suggests, "She's a priest of Zadastha... maybe she'll feel better if yer loosen 'er clothin'?  I's jus' sayin' is all." which brings a guffaw from Jack and a nervous giggle from Decklan.
This message was last edited by the player at 07:28, Fri 23 Dec 2011.

With everyone crowding around the fallen priestess, Ozzy decides this an opportune moment to see if the fallen ogres have anything worth having. Shouldering his lute he ambles casually over to first giant, rifling through the creatures smelly possessions for any coin, gemstone or any other heretofore unknown ogre treasure to fatten his own coin pouch with.

"Mind yer froggin mouth," Aarnr snarls at Colwyn, too far gone in pain to even pretend a politeness that is in any event so foreign to his nature that he doesn't even speak the same tongue.

Stooping at the priestesses side, he touches his good hand to her brow, mumbling a litany of curses and imprecations under his breath, insisting his God get His finger out and heal the woman.

The blow struck and the fight abruptly finished, Fergus seems almost dazed.  It is perhaps fortunate that the ogre falls away from Fergus, for he makes no move to avoid it as it falls, or to recover his axe, which is still buried in the ogre's chest.

Fergus stands a long moment, breathing heavily and apparently disoriented.  When he eventually recovers his wits he runs across to join the small crowd clustered around Eilieen.

"Is she going to be okay?"

  Erista sits down at the fallen couple with a heavy sigh, closing her eyes for a moment, and then stands up again, and reaches down to close theirs.

"Well, we saved the next people those ogres would've attacked," she says, no longer as cheerful as she'd been a moment ago.  Wandering over more slowly towards the group around Eilieen, she says hopefully, "Breathing's good, though, right?"  She sounds uncertain of this, as if she doesn't want to offer it as a medical opinion, just something she'd maybe heard somewhere.

Feeling frustrated that he forgot something important about his spell, Aramil is glad to see Fergus take out the last orge with an amazing chop of axe. Looking around at Eileen, the half-elf is relieved to her she is breathing. Looking at the priest he feels that Aarnr is worth having around. The language could be more poetic, but his heart is definitely in the right place. Walking over to the man and woman, he shakes his head in sadness at the wasted life that is crumpled at his feet. With a croaking voice he says "I can't help too much with the wounded, but I can help with these two poor travellers. Has anyone got a shovel, or shall we burn them on a funeral fire."

Bowbe is, apparently, suitably impressed (or cowed) by Aarnr's prayer and deems Eilieen worthy.  The priestess' eyes flicker open at Aarnr's touch, and she starts trying to sit up, though clearly she is still in some pain.    Corian lends a hand, and Eilieen is soon sitting up on the rutted (and still slightly muddy) road surface.

Colwyn watches as Ozzy starts to examine the ogres, then he shakes his head and chuckles.  "Shoulda been a bit bleedin' sharper." he mutters to himself, before swinging around to not quite aim his bow, complete with fresh arrow, in the general direction of Jack and Decklan. 

The rest of the group meanwhile start to gather around Eilieen.
This message was last edited by the GM at 14:29, Tue 27 Dec 2011.

Aarnr nods in satisfaction as his god answers his prayer.

"I'm going to have to teach you to use that froggin' spear of yours," the priest informs Eileen, though the curl of his lips shows he's impressed at her willingness to fight with something the size and ferocity of an ogre, even if those efforts came to naught.

Nodding his head, Aarnr turns away, shoulders slumping in fatigue, tucking his useless hand into his belt before retracing his steps to where he dropped his sword, stooping painfully to pick it up and cradling it across his body.  Leaning against a strangely battered and marked tree, he waits for the others to bury, burn or rob the corpses as the whim take them, though it is clear at this moment he is only interested in sitting down by the fire and getting back to his rudely interrupted meal.

Eilieen coughs, blinking her eyes open, her first true act to reach up and hurriedly wipe away the gumminess.  It can redden them.  "What...?"  She looks up in confusion at the staring faces around her.  For a moment she gazes with some incomprehension at Aarnr, then winces.

"Oh."

Shaking her head, with Corian's assistance the priestess pushes herself up to a seated position.  "Well, I did leave the temple in search of more important experiences..."  The throbbing in her skull seems much less painful than a three-day hangover.  Best, she decides, not to do any comparisons with how her body feels.

Then her eyes blink wider.  "Oh!  You..."  Her gaze dances around the group of people surrounding her, and to her relief finds them seemingly unwounded (though Aarnr and Fergus seem weary).  "Thank Zadastha!  And Bowbe!  You're all well!"  Her attention wavers for a moment, down to the filthy road upon which she's seated, then Eilieen remembers further and searchs for the downed travellers.  "OH!"  A third time and the loudest yet.  Mud flies as she scrambles heedlessly through the muck, her throat constricting.

Please don't be dead, please don't be dead...

Too late.

Eilieen takes a moment to stare down at their faces, her hair hanging in curls before her visage.  Someone has taken the time to close the travellers' eyes - a kindness.  Sitting back, she struggles to compose herself then gives up, hammering her small fists on her thighs before burying her face in her muddy palms.  "Gods curse it!"

Had she not been so foolish...had she waited a touch longer...perhaps?

Corian favours Eilieen with a sympathetic smile, "If the truth be known, the man was probably dead before we arrived, and the woman as soon as the monster hit her.  I believe that there was nothing to be done to save either of them.  For the moment simply be grateful none of us have joined them, and that the ogres will not be killing more travellers."

And that's it.  All he can offer in the way of solace.  The brutal truth.  And a small ray of hope, "I suspect they came from the direction we will be travelling on the morrow.  Perhaps we will have the opportunity to return some keepsake to friend and family, and offer condolences."

Walking up to the grieving priestess the monk places a hand on her shoulder.  "You cannot save everyone in the world, but as long as you are alive you can still make a difference."

She remains where she stands as she offers the other hand to Eilieen, ready to look her in the eye.  "Do not let death overshadow life, merely mark its end."

Erista nods her agreement with the others.  "And nobody could've tried harder than you," she adds.  "Not even you."

Seeing that she is standing and alive causes a small tinge of disappointment in the little bard as his expectations are denied. The disappointment is short lived as he scrounges over the large, tick infested corpses of the ogres. A few moments later he rejoins the others gathered around the priestess holding a handful of coins and a mace tucked under one arm. " Lookit what I found! Some coins (mostly gold), a clear pale blue gem, and a light mace which was perhaps too small for the ogres, but it looks to be well made." he says proudly, as if he had had a part in the fight. He hands the gemstone to Eileen, " Here, you earned this one."

Thanking Bowbe ?  That's a new one.  Aarnr shakes his head in amusement as he continues to support the badly wounded tree lest it fall over and take him with it.

Eilieen's response, and the attempts to comfort her puzzle the priest.  Any fight you can walk away from (afterwards, of course) was a good one.  And as many people die in their beds as on the business end of a weapon.  Of course, they're the ones that he feels sorry for.

With Eilieen clearly feeling better, physically if not emotionally, Corian moves a little further away from her and studies the ogres, having never seen one quite so close before.  Somehow the illustration in Liber Bestarius, and other assorted bestiaries, had utterly failed to convey the truly horrific nature of the creatures, making them appear more like large men than like the massive, twisted mockeries of humanity which now lay dead before him.

The sorcerer shudders as the overwhelming stench of them assaults his nostrils.  A tick, as big as the end of Corian's thumb, drops away from the cooling body of the first ogre and starts to crawl away, only to meet its doom beneath a well placed heel.

Corian considers the situation.  "We cannot simply leave these brutes here, to block the road.  The oxen may be reluctant to pass them - dead though they are, they still smell disgusting.  We should burn them.  The travellers too, whoever they are, but we should give them a little more respect."  He glances at Aarnr, "They fell in combat, after all, against enemies which far outmatched them."

Aarnr painfully levers himself upright, checking to be sure the tree is steady before he shuffles back to help move the Ogres off the road.

"They were a bit out of their froggin' league, weren't they ?" he grins horribly at Corian. "Did their best, though ... fair enough we honour them in death.  The travellers too, if ye like."

Corian and Erista offer kind words; they change nothing about the dead, but certainly are a balm for a sad heart.  Looking up at the Nameless Monk, Eilieen nods slowly.  "True enough," she whispers, nodding her head.  Patting the woman on her hand, the priestess laboriously pushes herself to her feet and glances around the group again.

Fergus and Aarnr...no, they're simply exhausted.  Both men seem to push themselves far too much in battle.  Aramil is well, as are the women, and Corian.  Oswald has certainly suffered no injury.  Their 'guests'?  Eilieen wrinkles her nose and pointedly ignores the stain on Decklan's trousers.

"Well-done, all of you."  She looks down at herself and the nose-wrinkling continues.  Annoyed, the priestess passes a hand across her body, mumuring a prayer to Zadastha under her breath, too embarassed to say it loudly.  Healing energies pour through her, revitalizing her wounded frame.  "Two ogres, never to again threaten other travellers...indeed, we should aid these poor souls and remove the corpses from the path."

The priestess blinks as Oswald passes her the gem.  "Why...thank you, Oswald.  I shall hold it until we can see a jeweler."  Obviously something for the group, though it was kind of him to hand it to her.  Probably an attempt to cheer her up, the priestess decides.

As Aarnr moves in to grab the Ogres' hefty bodies, Eilieen turns to the dead woman and man.  "We certainly should check for personal items their families might want.  Decklan!  Jack!  Assist Aarnr!"  Miserable louts.  Noting the direction the men are hauling the Ogres, she decides it would be better to move the dead man and woman to the other side of the road.

I will not lay them to rest near those beasts.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:33, Tue 03 Jan 2012.

"Heh," Erista can't hold in a small snicker at Corian's comment to Aarnr.  "Could say the same about the Ogres, though," she grins, spirits buoyed by seeing Eilieen recovering herself.  "True enough!" she agrees, crouching back by the bodies to see if they have anything that might be of such familial interest.

Fergus is pleased that Aarnr is able to browbeat Bowbe into aiding Eilieen.  Little wonder that the big man is so bold in combat if he's willing to talk to his god like that.

Fergus follows Eilieen to where the travellers' bodies lie in the road.  He's dismayed as much by the violence of Eilieen's reaction as the fact that both travellers are dead.

"I'm sorry Miss.  T'ain't nothing more we could've done."

As Corian suggests clearing the road, Fergus' first reaction is to move the travellers.  In the process of stooping down, he realises that his strength will be needed for the ogres and he straightens again.  Belatedly, he notices Aarne favouring one arm.

"Miss?  Could you pray for Aarnr?  His arm don't look so good."

"My thanks, Fergus.  I merely..."  Eilieen gestures toward the sad remains of the travellers.  "A few steps more, a few heartbeats less, I might have saved one or both of them."  She slowly shakes her head.  "I...should not curse upon the gods."

"My anger lies with myself, in truth."

She's about to continue moving the bodies when the worthy Fergus points out Aarnr's injury.  Instantly Eilieen's eyes widen and, with a grateful touch on the once-farmboy's shoulder, she hurries to the other priest's side.  "Aarnr!" she scolds.  "Foolish me for not seeing, but you should not hide these things.  Here, now."

Gently taking hold of his arm (assuming he doesn't brush her away), Eilieen swiftly intones a prayer.  "Let Zadastha's light burn away the winter of pain, warming against injury's cold bite!"

Cure light wounds!  :)  6 points of healing for poor Aarnr.

"Keep thy hands where I can froggin' see 'em !"  Aarnr protests but gently and more for the form of it.  Truth be told, his arm is giving him a bit of trouble, what with the pulverised flesh and cracked bone and all that, and he's not really in any shape to take on any more evil beasts at the moment (though obviously he'd die trying), and so he welcomes Eilieen's healing touch.

The curse that the priestess attempts is a bit on the feeble side, however, further confirming his opinion of city folk and their weak gods ... though in the circumstances he refrains from mentioning that.

"My thanks to thee and Zadastha ?" he offers tentatively, the words unfamiliar on his lips.  But the nod of approval as he flexes his arm is heartfelt.  A bit of stiffness there, but it will hinder him but a trifle.

"Right then !" Aarnr roars encouragement to Fergus, "Let's get these puds onto the fire, eh ?"

As dusk darkens into night, the adventurers, once again, find themselves preparing to hold funerals in darkness.

The stinking ogre corpses are dragged, with much effort, to the side uf the road.  They are covered unceremoniously with branches, leaves and whatever dry undergrowth is available in the nearby part of the forest.  There is a short pause when dinner is suddenly remembered, and Colwyn runs back to the campsite to remove the pot from the fire.  Then they are set to burn, with no prayers (but a few curses), while the party goes to deal with the human bodies.

Their fate is similar, though considerably more respectful.  Soon, they too are burning, but in their case the adventurers stand close by, offering whatever prayers they will for the deceased.
This message was last edited by the GM at 17:13, Wed 04 Jan 2012.

From her check, Erista solemnly brings up a small wooden holy symbol, holding it out to Eilieen.  "It was on her," she explains.  "I don't know if it should go with her, or back to her family?"

"They had a bit of silver," she adds, holding up the pouch.  "If we can find the family, they might like it back, but it seems like cold comfort."

The Fen-priest is much happier that the bodies are being properly burned and while he has nothing but contempt for the ogres picking on such weak prey, he elects to give the travellers the benefit of the doubt, that they at least attempted to fight off the ogres rather than simply being taken unawares and dying all unknowing.  Either way, at least they didn't try to flee ...

"May ye have better luck when Freya calls ye forth once more from Hades cold realm," he offers, without his customary curses (unlike his robust relationship with Bowbe, he has no intention whatsover of offending the Huntress, lest his own rebirth be delayed or worse).

As the fires consume the bodies, Erista holds a wooden carved medallion out for Eilieen to see.  It bears the image of a fierce-looking bird with spread wings.

Jack and Decklan are kept busy tending the fires, especially the larger one which burns the ogres.  Their job, theoretically, involves ensuring that the flames do not spread to the nearby trees, but with the general dampness of the forest after all the recent rain, they actually spend more time keeping the pyres alight.  Colwyn, his bow held casually, with an arrow nocked, keeps one eye on them, and one eye on the surrounding forest, watching for any creatures which might be drawn closer by the flames.

Glad to have assisted Aarnr and feeling a great deal better after her own healing, Eilieen sets to with a will, helping with the work and adding her own prayers to the service.  She offers Aarnr a quick smile, accepting the holy symbol from Erista and raising it for him to see.  "A fine choice of blessings, Aarnr Foultongue."  Facing the sickly scented flames, she bows.  "Freya accept you gently, lost travellers, and remember your names."

They don't even have that much, themselves.

"Thank you, Erista."  Zadastha's priestess smiles down at her companion, offering the holy symbol back.  "No, you bear this with the silver until we ferret out their family.  The thought was a fine one."  Looking around, she sighs.  "I am not so much in the mood for dinner any more."

For the most part, Ozzy is an observer with a lower perspective than the rest. He offers no prayers, sings no song, just watches. It has always confused him that people feel sad over a death, yet celebrate a birth. For Ozzy, they were the same thing and deserved celebration either way. He finds himself unable to grieve the natural process of life, so he holds his tounge lest the laughter escapes him. Back at camp he finds his dry place under the bridge and spends the evening tossing pebbles into the river.

The discovery of the wooden symbol that indicates at least one of the pair was a worshipper of Freya (or perhaps a priest ?) comes as a pleasant surprise to Aarnr, though he's happy to let everyone assume that he knew that all along.

Fighting, getting wounded, dragging bodies about and building pyres has certainly put an edge on the warrior-priest's appetite, and he gladly tucks into his meal when he's back at camp, consuming Eilieen's portion if she cannot stomach it herself.

All in all, quite a pleasant evening.  Slightly marred by the annoying constant plash! as Oswald chucks pebbles in the river, but unwilling to spoil the mood, he resists the urge to thrown the halfling in after them, mere favouring the wretch with the occasional scowl that undoubtedly passes unnoticed as it is no different to the usual way he regards the world and everyone in it.

"Do ye get many ogres in these parts ?" he asks Jack and Decklan hopefully.
This message had punctuation tweaked by the player at 13:49, Mon 09 Jan 2012.

Fergus is happy to confirm, if anybody's interested, that the wooden holy symbol is devoted to the goddess Freya.  "We should, I mean, one of you should take that to Shandril.  She's the priestess in Fairhill, she'll know what to do."  Fergus pauses before adding "You'll like her.  She's pretty."  Fergus seems to be blushing slightly, but in the deepening twilight it's hard to be sure.

Once the road is clear and the proper ceremony observed, Fergus returns to the camp with the others.  He leads the oxen out of the river and ties them on a long lead to a tree by the road.

Satisfied that his chores are complete, Fergus goes back to the river where, despite the falling temperature, he strips down to his underpants and wades into the river for a wash.

Erista? No. Aarnr? No. Eilieen? No? Aramil? No. Oswald?

"Oswald, would you bring a light and check my back for ticks?  There were some nasty big ones on those ogres.  I don' think I got any, but you know..."

Despite what is being asked of him, the little bard whips out his dagger with a grin in the shadows underneath the bridge. Holding the blade up to reflect a small portion of the light up to his leering smile, he says in a dark whisper, " Et tu Brutus?" then ruins the act with a giggle at a joke he's certain is lost on the farmhand.

Stepping back into the firelight he walks down to the shore and wades in, saying, "NO problem Fergus! I can tell you the tale of the Tick, a hero from a distant land who dressed all in blue. He was known for such memorable quotes as 'Don't ever try to swim against the mighty tide of justice' and 'Like a great blue salmon of Justice, the mighty Tick courses upstream to the very spawning ground of evil.'..." his words prattle on as he meticulously grooms the large farmers back like a small monkey from the forest.

From his position near the fire, Aarnr but cannot help shake his head smugly at the ignorance of the supposedly civilised world.  This unhealthy obsession with bathing, for instance.  Everyone knows that only a good stink can ward off vermin, as well as sickness and plague, and washing it away is not only harmful but downright dangerous.

"Watch out for froggin' [Language unknown: Resrat'ioneau] !" he warns.

Being ready, and had already offered, Aramil works hard on helping the others prepare and send off the two unfortunate humans that were attacked. And also destroying the orges, mainly because none of the adventurers wished to send these creatures off the the hell that they would enter on death. After which he returns to the camp and helps with the evening meal. All throughout the work Aramil composes a poem in light of the attack and fight that ensued. It is very rusty and will need some time, but the half-elf is pleased with the work in progress.

Jack and Decklan are happy to confirm that there are now definitely less ogres in the area than there used to be, but Jack does go on to say, "There are a few about.  Every now and again we hear tell of some farmer who goes out in the morning to see bloody great footprints in his yard, and find he's only got half as many cows as when he went to bed, and he only had one then."

"Sometimes there are rumours that somebody saw one in the distance, but never close up like we just did."

The return to the unguarded camp reveals nothing missing, at least nothing easily discovered in the firelight.

People settle down to their evening tasks, whether that be eating, bathing, tending to the oxen, or hunting for parasites...