"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.