"Aye.  By the looks of it, them's really workin' fer some king."

Colwyn steps forward, an arrow ready on his bow.  He kicks one of the fallen men, just to make sure he's dead.  Then he does it again, and harder, just because.  "That were bein' fer Ozzy, yer bastard." he growls.

Drawing one of his knives, he begins to cut the emblem from the man's surcoat.

One of the unconscious archers starts to sit up slowly, shaking his head to clear it.  He stops moving when he feels the tip of Aarnr's blade against his throat.  His eyes are unfocussed, and he doesn't seem to see anything.

"It's all right... er... my friend.  I'll just sit here for now."

Once the questioning begins, Eilieen returns to Oswald.  She leaves the discussion regarding the soldiers to the three men watching them, and slowly kneels beside her fallen comrade.  The two dogs become streaks of gold in the air for an instant before disappearing, but she pays them no heed.  The distant voices wash over her - soldiers, emblems, Colwyn's fury and Arkan's assessment - she registers them, but does not move.

At Erista's query, the priestess rouses herself.

Standing, she walks the short distance to where her friend stands.  "I was tardy," the priestess whispers.  "Or perhaps the wound too great."  Or both.  "I am sorry, Erista."  So very sorry.  "We have lost Oswald."  They have; for Oswald is not lost, himself.  Instead, his spirit has returned home.  But these words she does not speak.

They would be icy comfort.

She reaches out her hand to the small sorceress.  "Come," Eilieen whispers, before raising her voice.  "Aarnr - leave the prisoners alive.  But know you, your brother has fallen in battle.  Will you not bid him farewell?"

The priestess's words at last confirm Aarnr's suspicions, but the news is worse than ever he'd considered.  Ignoring the wretch on the ground at his feet, the priest slowly turns his head to regard his fallen blood brother, before looking back to the archer, death in his eyes.  As he raises the blade above his head, for a moment it seems that he will drive his sword into the heart of the defeated foe, but with a terrible roar Aarnr lowers his weapon.

Kneeling next to the man, the priest ignores his words, telling him, "My brother is dead, thou toad-knocking small-coded pud !  Ye live at her behest only !" He points his finger at Eilieen.  "If thou speak but one lie or are not most swiftly forthcoming to the questions she poses, then I shall tear out thy tongue, cut out thy eyes and burn thee alive, thou mammerin', guts-gripin' Rampallian !!"

"If they run, cut off their feet," Aarnr instructs Arkan and Colwyn as he turns back to the cart, walking forwards with leaden steps.

Where he sits, Bilfro starts to sing, sing a sorrowful yet at the same time hopefully lament over the fallen companion.

"I'll do my utmost to answer your questions, Sir."

Colwyn regards the archer curiously, then leans down and jabs his fist at the man's face, stopping a hair short of actually striking him.  The archer doesn't flinch, or give any sign that he even notices.

"'e isn't seein' nothin'." he declares, "'e's bein' blind as a bloody owl!"

"I's goin' ter cut 'is fingers off, so as he can't shoot nobody again."

"My friend!  Would you truly harm a blind man?"

"Oh yes, seein' as 'ow them's the ones what's less likely ter fight back an' 'urt a body."

"Hold, Colwyn," Eilieen quietly calls as Aarnr approaches and Bilfro sings his lament.  "While I understand -" and goddess save her, she does "- let us not leap to mutilation of captured enemies."  Her head bows.  "Yet."

But what will they do with their captives?  Will the man remain blinded?  If not, should they simply let them go freely?

No.

No, Eilieen decides.  This 'king' is another evil in the world, or at least his men have taken it upon themselves to be so.  They attack travellers in the night, claiming a well-lit wagon to be brigands.  They demand all of their money, rather than a fair toll.  And when refused?  They kill.  What other crimes have these soldiers committed in their king's name?  And what of their king?  Does he know of this?

Something must be done.

"Something will be done," she states, her voice suddenly harsh.  It smooths a moment later as Aarnr arrives.  "Come, Aarnr.  Set..."  Swallowing, she composes herself.  "Set your sword aside and sing praises of your brother."

"His sight will come back pretty soon," Erista says, bitterly.  "You can cut his fingers off then, so it's proper, if he'd really rather watch."  The words, and her tone, are surprisingly savage from her otherwise adorable form.

Walking up to Oswald, she touches the arrow sticking through his throat, and sighs.  "It wasn't your fault," she promises Eilieen.  "You always do your very best for us."

While the burden of carrying Bowbe has left Aarnr drained in the aftermath, the sight of Ozzie's small limp form seems to weary the big barbarian further.  The sword of Gonder falls from his hand as he slumps to his knees besides his blood-brother.

Wordlessly, the priest grasps the slaying-shaft, pushing it further though the Halfling's neck, then reaching down to snap off the head, staring at it as Ozzie's blood stains his hands.  For a moment it looks as if he might hurl it from him, but then his jaw sets and his hand closes over the point.  With his free hand, Aarnr pulls the shaft out, tossing it to one side.

"He was a warrior.  He died a warrior's death," the big man's tones are leaden.  "He died to rid the world of these toll-collectors.  Bowbe will grant his soul battles for all of eternity, enough that his proud warrior-spirit is never sated !"

Aarnr's eyes are shining as he lifts his eyes.  "Let us slay these misbegotten swag-bellied whoresons, and claim the head of their king in recompense for the life of so brave a warrior !"

Colwyn kneels close to the blinded archer, folding the newly liberated emblem until it is small enough to fit into his belt pouch.  "Yer bein' a lucky bugger." he remarks conversationally.  "This 'ere knife's bein' good an' sharp, so at any rate it'll be takin' yer fingers off quick like."

"An' like Erista were sayin', I's thinkin' as 'ow I'll be waitin' fer yer ter watch me doin' it.  Then she might be likin' ter cut somethin' off, seein' as 'ow yer was just killin' our mate."

He unslings his pack and starts rummaging through it.  "Got me a bit of rope somewhere.  Ayup!  'ere we is.  Now, lie down on yer front, with yer 'ands be'ind yer."

"It wasn't my fault though!  It was the Commander's idea to rob people and tell them it was all official!"

Arkan is subdued at the loss of Oswald, and as he privately grieves along with the others, he too considers what is to be done with the prisoners.

"We can leave them behind after tying them up. If they are fated to live, someone may free them after we are long gone, otherwise..."


He shrugs, knowing and understanding the ruthless nature of the world. They would be too much of a danger to keep alive and with them as they hunted their own prey.

Eilieen places a hand upon Erista's shoulder - she wants to hug the small woman, but doesn't know how it would be taken.  Or if it would be comforting at all; Erista isn't child for all of her size, and being manhandled without warning by a human might not be as much a warm and fuzzy thing as some might think.  "In the end, it is their fault," she quietly agrees.

Oh, she could have tried, harder, though how Eilieen is uncertain.  But the arrow didn't come from her, no indeed.

"Tempted as I am to slay the King, Aarnr," she continues, wincing as he removes the arrow, "we must know if this is by his command or not.  Though, regardless, he holds some responsibility - these were his men, armed and enabled.  But I will not simply execute these..."  She studies the remaining soldiers.  "Brigands," Eilieen spits bitterly.

And Colwyn manages to worry an interesting bit of information from the archer.

"Arkan's words hold wisdom."  She shoots the warrior-mage a grateful glance.  "I will not slay them, but leaving them tied?  Could mean death.  It could mean reprieve.  It MIGHT make them consider all of the others they have left helpless and penniless here on the trail...or perhaps those they have slain who refused to part with their monies."

Slowly she stands and paces to where the archer argues with Colwyn.  "Be silent, you cur!  Your commander was one person!  If you all disagreed, it would have been no hard task to dissuade her.  But you supported her.  You supported this!  Did you profit from the spoils as well, and did this profit seal your tongue from complaining to your king?  How many have lost everything to you?  Money or lives?  How many have been abused?"

Kneeling beside him as Colwyn binds his hands, Eilieen leans close.  "What would your king say, were we to inform him?  Hm?"

As Colwyn produces a rope, Aarnr does glance over, perhaps hopeful that the brigands may be left dangling by their necks awaiting the mercy of the next passers-by ... but when it transpires that they're simply being tied, he looks away, not trusting himself, though strangely sure that Eilieen will extract from them the full details of their crimes.

"We killed many of them, brother," he assures Ozzie, quietly (or at least quietly by his own standards) confident that the Halfling's spirit will be gladdened by this news.

"Sing thy laments," the priest encourages Bilfro.  "A minstrel's final journey should be marked in song."

Erista looks up at Eilieen a bit sharply at her response, and emphasizes, "Also the beginning and middle.  It's Not. Your. Fault."  She considers giving the priestess a hug, but isn't sure how it would be taken.  For all her innocence, the tall woman isn't a child, and with her apparently somewhat traumatic temple background, Erista can't help but worry that any unexpected physical touch could be the opposite of comfort.

Coming up to Aarnr's side, she nods her agreement with his own offered comfort.  Ozzy had liked Aarnr's philosophy; he probably would appreciate that truth.  "I'll send word to your family," she promises, brushing a lock of hair back from his forehead.

The man laughs, though the laughter seems forced, and lacking in humour.  "Yes, I could have refused, and been hanged for my pains, the certain fate for any who disobey their Commander.  Arranol brooks no insubordination,  Nor does he let the deaths of road wardens pass unpunished, no matter the reason for those deaths.  By Arranol's Law, you are all murderers!"

Colwyn looks towards the cart, where a number of his fellow adventurers are gathering around Ozzy's body.

The "road warden" really is asking to have his throat slit.  And just for once the rogue is getting the impression that nobody would object if the prisoner were to have a sudden, unexpected, and totally inexplicable fatal shaving accident.

The problem is, as far as Colwyn is concerned, that a number of hostile witnesses have escaped into the woods.

The reeky puttock's words do not offend Aarnr, though his tone does, being neither fearful nor respectful enough.  Undoubtedly Eilieen will stick him with her spear for such.

"He was thy kinsman," the priest turns to Erista, choosing to pursue practical matters lest his grief cause him to hack the bodies of the foe, dead or still living alike into small pieces, "do ye know how he would have his mortal remains disposed of ?"

"Perhaps atop a pyre, the bodies of his enemies arrayed at his feet ?"  That's certainly Aarnr's choice, and there's certainly plenty of trees around here.

Arkan resists the urge to smack the prisoner across his face for his insolence, and obvious baiting. He hopes the others do not fall for it, and indeed it seems even Aarnr has his temper under control.

Still, the mans words are dangerous in what they imply; the group could very well come under the scrutiny of who ruled in these lands, whether it be this Arranol or someone else. They needed more information though.

"Who is this Arranol you speak of? Doth he know his 'roadwardens' attempted to line their own pockets rather than his, and then lie to him about it?" Arkan asks, attempting a bit of reverse psychology, the threatening accusation under his words left unspoken.

"I's not bein' no murderer.  I's bein' a second floor man an' cut-purse.  I's lookin' ter be a murderer one day, but there's not bein' enough victims left fer me ter be practisin' on 'round 'ere.  I's not supposin' yer feels like volunteerin' does yer?"

The rogue leaves the road warden laying face down and hog-tied in the middle of the road, and makes his way over to the cart, where he regards Ozzy with something that might be a speck of grit in one eye.

After a short silence, he speaks quietly, "Farewell mate.  Yer was one of the good ones."

Eilieen stares down at the 'warden' with disgust.  Excuses and rationalization...ever the defences against at least making an effort.  Crouching down beside the man, she leans forward.  "And what," the priestess quietly inquires, "will your splendid king do to you for this failure, I wonder?"

That said, she stands and strides back toward where Ozzy lies, pausing to touch Arkan's shoulder.  "Perhaps you might put some reason into this reprobate."

Arriving at the cart, she places a hand now on the shoulder of the small sorceress.  "Thank you, Erista," Eilieen whispers.  "For your kind words."  They hold meaning.  She tosses a worried look at Aarnr, and lays her other hand upon Colwyn's arm.  "You travelled together a good time," she murmurs.  "Aarnr...Colwyn, I am so sorry."

"His death lies at the feet of these sheep-biting coin-grubbers," Aarnr assures Eilieen, "not with thee."  In his way, the priest echoes the words of Erista, though considerably less well-crafted and more colourfully.

In truth, he does not know how to respond to the priestess's attempt to console him, but appreciates that it is important to her, so settles for nodding his head slowly though understanding escapes him.

Indeed, Aarnr is perhaps less concerned with Ozzie's death than that it should be at the hands of such worthless curs, and not a slobbering, befanged fiend from the lowest hells.  His blood brother deserved a better end.

The prisoner laughs humourlessly, "Who is Arranol?  You stand in Arranol's kingdom, among the slain men of Arranol's army.  He is the ruler of this land, and the maker of its laws."

Colwyn regards Eilieen curiously.  "Weren't bein' down ter you.  Were a arrer what killed 'im, not yer own failin'.  A arrer can be killin' any bugger, like that."  He snaps his fingers.  "With one in 'is neck, Ozzy were like as not bein' dead afore 'e was 'ittin' the ground.  Yer couldn't 'ave saved 'im if yer'd been right next ter 'im."

The rogue glances towards the bound prisoner, and his hand rests on the hilt of one of his knives as he spits on the ground.

Ozzy's body, light as it is, is loaded easily on to the cart, where it is covered with a blanket.

Aarnr climbs up to the driver's bench and gently (by his standards) urges the oxen into a lumbering walk.

Colwyn manages to resist the urge to kick the prisoner, and doesn't even spit on him.  A sign of contempt from the rogue - the enemy isn't even worth abusing.

As he drives the oxen forward, the priest's gaze hardens as it takes in the sight of the prisoner bound in the middle of the benighted road ...

... a gentle pressure on the reins to guide the beasts, a few short screams, quickly cut-off, from the man who's mocking words were an affront to his blood-brother's memory, and a bit of a bump as the cart passes somewhat over him ...

... and the party are on their way again, the excitement of the hunt for the demon-worshippers now much dampened by Ozzie's sad end.

Erista sits on the cart beside Ozzy, holding his hand as it grows colder.  She's more than a little startled by the first scream.  Letting go of Ozzy, she first looks around wildly, but then realizes what's happening, and drops into a small crouch, eyes squeezed shut and hands over her ears.

It's not nearly enough.

The final `bump' and ensuing silence are too much.  She barely makes it to the back of the cart, leaning over and losing her dinner.

Fortunately, her eyes are still mostly closed, and she stumbles back to sit down, not realizing that she has offered the bandit one final insult.

The first thud takes her by surprise, as does the scream.  Eilieen joins Erista in the wild stares, and as the smaller woman huddles down she bursts to her feet (in the cart) and lunges for Aarnr.

Too late.

"Aarnr!"  Eilieen snaps, truly incensed.  "By heaven..."  Shaking her head, she moves back to stare at the ugly sight they leave in their wake.  It's clear there is nothing she can do, even from here, and Eilieen elects instead to assist Erista.  Sitting beside the sorceress, she places an arm across her shoulders and offers a handkerchief.

"I don't know what good this quest will do in this world," she murmurs.  A glance out the back of the cart, then her eyes return to Oswald's sad body.  "But I begin to doubt the price.  On all of us."

Walking beside the cart, Arkan winces slightly as he hears the crunch of the initial run-over of the captive, and then the various assorted sounds of bones snapping and life slowly and painfully ending. Thereafter begin the sounds of Erista emptying the contents of her tiny stomach.

He remains impassive, although a part of him does enjoy the swift justice meted, and a potential problem solved.

"A few of them did escape, we should remain on our guard and try to complete our buriness here quickly," he said to the others in a quiet voice, loud enough only for them to hear.