Colwyn stays away from the torches, keeping to the shadows that seem to gather close to the cart.  There is the matter of the biting insects, but much more important is the rogue's preference for darkness and the concealment it brings.

Ozzy, meanwhile, sits on the bench alongside his blood brother, strumming chords on his lute, and slowly piecing together an epic song about the party's exploits so far.  It's all coming together quite well, even if he does say so himself.  Some of the stanzas are proving difficult, but he believes he has the refrain almost right...

About an hour on their way, there is a sudden flare of light, and a burning arrow suddenly appears in the road about ten yards ahead of the cart.  A woman's voice calls from the blackness below the trees to the left.

"Foolish to travel the road at night my friends.  There are bandits in these parts.  But if you just drop your purses in the road here, we'll let you go on your way, and you won't need to worry about getting robbed later this evening."

"At least she sounds cheerful." Ozzy opines glumly.

Walking near the back of the group with his cloak drawn close around him to ward off the insects that assaulted from every angle, Arkan is startled when the burning arrow lands in front of them.

"Ah, bandits with a sense of humor," he murmurs wryly. "Let us try to bluff our way past." Arkan adds quietly to the others.

"Fobbin' bat-fowlin' puttock !"  Aarnr's anger knows no bounds.  "I don't have a sheep-bitin' pukin' coin," the priest complains, unjustly deprived of his chance to fight someone to the death for a few paltry coins.

Cheering as a thought strikes him¹, Aarnr pulls on the reins and makes the secret noises² that slow the oxen, bringing the cart to a stop.

"Can one of ye lend me a coin," he asks his companions ingeniously, loosening his blade in its scabbard.


¹ he retaliates of course, dispatching it handily
² woe!
This message was last edited by the player at 04:28, Sat 01 Oct 2016.

Feeling that she has already lent -- or, if she's totally realistic about it, given -- Aarnr enough coins for one day, Erista stays quiet.

Very quiet.

Colwyn shoves a handful of coppers into Aarnr's outstretched palm, smiling happily.  He thinks he knows where this might be heading, and the bandits might be in for an unpleasant surprise.  Not that they'll have much time to spend feeling unpleasantly surprised...


Then the woman's voice calls out again, "We have you outnumbered you know!"

"A bluff, yes." Ozzy nods enthusiastically, "But it won't be easy.  They know more about us than we do about them."

Eilieen watches with some dismay as Aarnr puts his plan(?) into action.  She nods to Arkan and Ozzy as they make their own comments on the matter (Erista remaining dangerously silent; who knows what the diminutive mage is preparing).  "Aarnr, before we do anything physical, allow me one moment..." the priestess states, striding forward and grounding her spear.  Opening her cloak, she displays her holy symbol openly.

"You seek to steal from a priestess of Zadastha," she calls out.  "We are travellers, set in the pursuit of evil; let us pass, and none shall come to hurt.  But block our way, and we shall respond as best we can...and I tell you, the goddess will not look upon you with favour!"

There's a small pause.

"Oh, and the enormous man with the gigantic sword?  Priest of Bowbe," Eilieen comments.  "Consider yourselves to be in disfavour with him, as well."

OOC: Diplomacy would have been the same with Taking 10 - total of 18.  If they're 'Unfriendly' but not 'Hostile', that's enough to move them into 'Indifferent'.  I can hope.
This message was last edited by the player at 13:42, Mon 03 Oct 2016.

Aarnr is not sure what is going on, though the expression on his face suggests nothing more than his usual surly menace.  The voice from the trees told everyone that there was no chance of bandits coming anywhere near anyone who didn't have any money, and thanks to them and Colwyn's generosity he's remedied that and is now ready to proceed, even if that means surrendering the reins to Ozzie so he can leap out and lead the charge when the moment arrives.

Ah !  It all becomes clear.  Eilieen is worried that their mysterious benefactor, might try to stop them going after the bandits out of some mistaken concern for their welfare and the priestess is warning them that any such attempt would be considered a grievous insult.

"We've dealt with froggin' bandits before !" he bellows in a threatening rumble that is meant to be reassuring.  "That's where we got the fobbin' cart !"

"We'll carve the mewlin' boil-brained hedge-pigs up !"

"You are mistaken.  We do not seek to steal.  Nor are we bandits." the voice laughs merrily, and is joined by more hoots and jeers from the darkness between the trees.  All seem to be in remarkably good humour.

"Call it... a toll... to ensure your protection from brigands.  Those who pay the toll willingly will not be found dead in a ditch and robbed of their wealth in the morning.  I swear this to you, in the name of King Arranol."

Colwyn looks in that direction, puzzled.  "Eh?" he murmurs.  Slowly he pulls an arrow from his quiver, and nocks it, though he does not, as yet, draw the bow.

"The bandits would kill for ..." Aarnr looks down at the coins Colwyn gave him "... some coppers ?"  He sounds inordinately pleased about this.  It's better than he thought.  Perhaps the humour displayed by the voice in the trees is catching.

"I vow in Bowbe's hell-hated name that we shall send the souls of the odiferous pottle-deep vassels screaming into the darkest hole in the Nine Hells where the bladders may tremble in pain for a froggin' eternity !" the priest vows.

"Don't ye worry, not one of the pribblin' fen-sucked gudgeons will escape us !"

Aarnr is obviously keen to get the oxen moving again, and brings the cart slowly forward that Eilieen can leap aboard and they can go looking for these doomed bandits.

"Aarnr, yer'd best be waitin' a bit.  There's bein' some trickery 'ere." Colwyn declares, "Summat's not bein' right 'bout this.  I's feelin' it in me water."

Up ahead, a figure steps out from the trees to the left of the road, about fifty yards ahead.  It seems to be dressed in white, and stands out quite well in the gloom...

The priest once more brings the oxen to a halt, puzzled over the delay in setting forth to find the bandits, but trusting Colwyn's instincts, especially if it is likely to lead to bloodshed.

"Is there a froggin' problem ?" Aarnr asks, then notices the figure in white that appears to the side of the road.  White, he notes, not black.  Trickery, eh ...

"Are ye a bandit, ye warped, scale-sided scullion ?" he bellows the question, thinking to catch it out in a lie.

The woman, for it is indeed she who stands in view on the gloom-shrouded road, calls back, "As I have already stated, we are not bandits!  Neither is there a problem, as long as you are prepared to part with you wealth as a toll to support the just rule of King Arranol!"

"The road that you travel belongs to him."

Standing warily and fully alert, Arkan peers at the ghostly figure in white as it emerges from the gloom and speaks. One of his hands is inside the folds of his cloak while the other is ready to draw his battleblade in one swift motion if required, though knowing full well the party likely have bows pointed at them, he knows how risky it will be to draw blades and start hacking right there and then.

A distraction would work well, or at the very least some light to show the party where the bandits were located.

"If the King is so just, why doth he tax simple travelers so? A just king provides safety to all in his dominion for free!" Arkan says loudly, looking at the woman. "And his loyal servants do not skulk in the shadows like hoodlums. Tell your companions to come out from the dark so we may converse like civilized citizens of this benevolent empire."

Colwyn's and Arkan's remarks finally bear fruit as Aarnr finally realises just what the gloom-shrouded, spur-galled mumble-news is saying.  With a growl he throws the reins to Ozzie as he leaps down from the driver's seat to stand beside the cart, levelling his brand-new blade at the ghostly figure in stark accusation.

"Not a froggin' bandit ... ye're a cullionly, knotty-pated, sheep-bitin', toad-spotted tax collector !" the priest roars, daring them to deny it.

Arkan and Aarnr seem to have things well in-hand; Eilieen slips up next to Colwyn.  "Speak on, Colwyn," she quietly urges him.  "If there is more we should know, best we be aware.  Even guesswork is better than naught, at the moment."

For a brief moment she toys with the idea of calling Doggie, but holds.  "'Part with our wealth'," the priestess mutters.  "Hardly the words of a legitimate tax collector.  They would standing in the open with guards, speaking of sums, not calling out vague generalities or demanding all of our coin from a distance with their laughing fellows hiding, prepared for ambush.  Bandits by any other name are still bandits."

Colwyn sneers (not a pretty sight) and says, "Them's smellin' like thieves ter me.  Lurkin' on the road at night, when the fat merchants what's 'avin' guards is all bein' abed.  So 'onest folk like us, what's 'avin' jus' their own 'ands ter be fightin' with is gettin' robbed."

He raises his bow, draws it, and aims at the woman.

She, in turn, laughs at Arkan's words.  "Simple, honest travellers would be taking the road in daylight, not skulking in the dark, like the hoodlums you accuse us of being."

"And toll collectors we are, not tax collectors.  I make no effort to deny my duty.  But the road must be maintained, and who better to pay for it than those who use it?"

She raises one arm above her head, and behind her the shadows begin to rustle and move, as armed men, their mail clinking in the night air and their white surcoats gleaming in the gloom, move out onto the road.  There look to be at least twenty of them...

Erista decides that keeping quiet is probably best here.

Aarnr's vocabulary, such as it is, does not allow for distinctions between toll collectors and tax collectors, nor does the sudden appearance of several handfuls of armed men worry him unduly, though he does regard them appraisingly, much like a dog salivating over a juicy bone.

There is one question that is puzzling him, however, and at least serves to stay his hand for the moment ...

 "What in the Nine Hells were ye puttocks doin' hidin' in those froggin' trees ?!!"

The priest's manner might indicate even to anyone who doesn't know him well that the answer had better be a good one, else it's suddenly going to get very noisy and messy around here.

"Part of our duty is to stop trouble makers on the road.  What better place to lay in wait for them than among the trees, where they are not forewarned of our presence."

The woman's good humour seems to be slipping a little.  She is not laughing any more, and a certain coldness is creeping into her voice.  Her troops, meanwhile, are drawing weapons.

"Are you going to pay the toll, or do we count you as vagrants, ne'er-do-wells, and vagabonds, and treat you accordingly?"

Where it not for his companions and his promise to his grandmother, Aarnr would already be laying about him with his blade, showing these hedge-pigs the error of their ways.

"Is this nut-hook demandin' all our froggin' coin ?" he asks Colwyn whose opinion on the matter he values highly, hoping he's understood her earlier demands correctly.

"Your toll being all of our coin, our purses laid upon the road?" Eilieen inquires, acid in her voice.  "Robbery is not a toll.  You would count servants of the gods and their noble companions -" it's a stretch for Colwyn (not Erista!), but she's not going to quibble over semantics "- as ne'er-do-wells?"

Her lips curl.  "I see no-ne'er-do wells about me.  Rather, I see them before me;   your accusations of skulking fall flat when we travel with light and cart, and you yourselves accost from the darkness.  I wonder how many other travellers you have despoiled of their coin...or their virtue and lives."

A score or more enemies against themselves.  Eilieen finds herself smiling, though her grip upon the spear trembles slightly.  "Well, come then," she states.  "Come take your ill-gotten gains, or at least make the attempt; I assure you, you shall bleed for it.  I only hope you have the courage to stand in the front, rather than hide behind your men.  At the worst, there shall be less bandits upon the road; at best?"  She laughs, the sound a touch brittle.  "There will be none when we finish with you."

From the corner of her mouth, she mutters to Colwyn.  "Should any make a move to attack, feather the leader.  Good or ill this turns out, I would see her marked."  After a small pause, she qualifies.  "Um.  Fatally, were it not clear."

Erista continues to, presumably, sleep peacefully on the wagon, blissfully unaware of all the kerfuffle.

Aarnr's huge fist closes around the few coppers held in his hand, his face lighting with what might best be described as unholy glee as Eilieen's words, such as he understands them (the skulking and accosting definitely don't sound good, though), give him the answer he was hoping for.

"Ye weedy, muddy-mettled, half-faced footlickers !!  Ye want my froggin coin ?!!  Then ye shall froggin' have it !!" the priest roars.

Fist held high, sword held low, Aarnr advances towards the puttocks.

Arkan's heart starts beating faster as the large number of men emerge from the gloom. This certainly did not look good, not at all.

He dares to hope as Eileen makes her intimidating speech, but they are dashed as Aarnr moves towards the men, sword drawn.

With a smooth motion Arkan draws his own sword with one hand, while the other makes a curious motion inside the folds of his cloak and his lips move almost soundlessly under the shadows of his hood.

"Aye, I's reckonin' as she's bein' after everythin' we's 'avin'.  Even the cart." Colwyn says, then smiles at the effect his words have on Aarnr.  The smile widens into a grin, as Eilieen gives him permission to stick an arrow in the leader of the robbers.

Not that he was waiting for any such permission, but it's nice to know you're not going to get in trouble for doing something...

"You would challenge us, the duly appointed soldiery of King Arranol?"  The woman seems a little outraged at this idea.  "Very well.  On your own heads be it!  Those of you who survive the battle will dance for the hangman.  Take them men!  Archers!"

The troops start to move forward, brandishing their weapons...


OOC: Ooh... some Initiative rolls would be nice, around about now, before we go any further.