Luckshot smiled a grim smile. "Ghelm's arrows were a big help. He's a very good quartermaster and smith, and can still hold his own in a tussle it appears. I'm going to take a look around outside the walls. Maybe I'll take him with me... help him keep his mind off his mates for a bit..." Luckshot went over to where the last of the scouts was kneeling among his fallen friends, openly weeping. Var touched him on the shoulder and they spoke briefly. The scout reluctantly nodded and then with a show of determination, grabbed his bow and followed Luckshot through the gate into the pounding storm.  Tremors continued, but not as strong as the two quakes had been.

Looking up on the hill was fruitless for Lya. The sky was still very dark and it was raining hard now. The lightning caused everything to flash and glint, confusing what she had seen with what she might see.

As she examined the corpse of the leader of the raiding party, she saw immediately that he was not human, nor elf, nor any other race she was familiar with. Whereas those under his command all appeared to be humans with chiseled features and deep set eyes, the leader was much different. His skin was grayish, his hair dark and course. He had a number of... nobs or spikes at various locations on his body, mainly on the joints like elbows and knees, but also on his cheekbones and chin. His hands were very rough and his fingers were black clawed. His teeth were slightly pointed and there were far too many of them in his mouth. When she removed his helmet, she saw two short horns protruding above each ear.

She wiped off her blade and sheathed it, but just as she did so, an icy feeling shot up her spine. It could have been the wind causing her a chill now that the battle was over and she was soaked. Her clothing stuck to her like a second skin. It could have been some involuntary reaction to some errant stimulus... or it could have been that she heard a voice behind her faintly whisper, "долази ловац...".

Her examination of the body turned up a few noteworthy items. There was a small pouch of gold coins which appeared to be freshly minted in the Zeland currency. Also she found a silver ring with a deep red ruby. There were a couple of strange runes on either side of the setting. Around his neck she found, under the breastplate and next to the skin, a string of scores of teeth, some of which appeared to be human and others much, much larger. There was a long, wicked-looking dirk belted at his waist. Finally, folded inside a small satchel, Lya found a crudely drawn map.

The leader's blade remained laying in the mud and Lya, in spite of herself, found she was looking at it often...

OOC:
27 gp in the pouch.
Please make a Deathray save and add your wisdom modifier for me (d20-1 TN>=12)

19:57, Today: Lya rolled 17 using 1d20-1 with rolls of 18. Deathray Save.

OOC: I actually did a +1 modifier instead of a -1 modifier on the dice roller by mistake so I corrected it here to reflect what it should have been with the mod you prescribed.

Lya looked quickly around to see who spoke behind her.
This message was last edited by the player at 02:02, Tue 28 Oct 2014.

She whirled and looked, but saw no one behind her. Momentarily her eyes scanned the hillside behind the garrison where she'd seen... something, earlier. Nothing. Once again drawn to the fell blade of the leader of the raiders she turned back. This time a feeling of revulsion came over her, almost a nausea of the mind. Lya averted her gaze lest she be compelled to pick it up. (made your save)

The clothing the raiders wore was of poorly spun wool cloth. It was heavy and fairly stout, but the weaving was loose and the sewing very hasty. The gray color was very similar to the uniform of Seeker Haymane, but bore a strange insignia. Crudely embroidered on the chest in black thread was a symbol showing a knot with seven loops. In the center of the knot was a rune and within each of the loops - each having an eerie similarity to a noose - was a symbol.

Then from within the stone of the garrison proper came a loud scream... it was the garrison cook...

This was really getting to be too much. It seemed to Lya she was going from one rescue to another. She was a thief not some paladin on a holy mission to save the universe from itself. Turning to the body of the fallen...whatever it was...she casually slipped the ring from off it's finger and scooped the coins out of it's pouch slipping the loot into her own pouch. Fair was fair. She had killed it after all.

Oh all right she thought to herself. Time to pull out the heroine once again and put her delight in acquiring pretty things aside for the moment. Standing, she turned and ran to where the sound of the screaming cook was coming from.

The scene in the garrison kitchen was a grizzly one. There was a pool of blood on the spotless flagstone floor coming from a body which had been sliced by a very sharp weapon. The other occupant of the room whirled around as Lya entered, wielding something shiny.

After a moment of sorting things out, the scene became more clear. The "victim" was one of the gray-clad raiders. The "weapon" was one of Mama Haga's good kitchen knives, and the "assailant" was Mama Haga herself, standing with wild-eyes near the kitchen's open brick oven.

"Lya! Are you alright?" she asked in surprise. "This... this... he came in the back door! Is it over? Is the fighting over?" She was very disraught. The kitchen door that led out into the garden was still wide open and rain illuminated by random bolts of lightning could be seen outside.

Lya nodded at Mama Haga.

"Yes I'm fine. As to whether or not it's safe I honestly couldn't tell you but it's seems that, for now, the fighting is over."

Nodding reassuringly she stepped out of the kithchen area and went in search of Ghelm so she could return the bow and the remaining arrows. She'd had enough of this garrison and it's troubles and just wanted the horse promised her so she could get on her way and recover her loot at the bridge.

The lightning seemed to come less and less frequently, but the dark clouds remained overhead and the rain continued to pour down from above. The ground quickly became saturated and could not absorb the moisture as quickly as it was coming down. Small rivers began running downhill as the water continually sought a lower place. When Lya returned to the courtyard, the survivors were taking care of those who had fallen in the fighting. A few had survived, but their injuries were grievous. Those who were wounded, including Command-Deputy Farfeld, were taken to the barracks to be tended. A lone militia-man was spared to climb the watchtower and keep a lookout, but they all knew that should the gray-clad riders return with reinforcements, well... that was a thought best not considered. Regardless, Ghelm had insisted that they post a lookout, event though the extra set of hands was badly needed.

Lya slip-slopped her way through the mud and water to find Ghelm who was arriving back at his smithy, which also served as the garrison's armory. He gave her a respectful nod and a rather dwarfish growl of approval. "Nice throw Lass. Ye probably saved us ye know... Well done. Very well done. Why don't ye give me those and get yerself inside. I'm sure Haymane'll be needin' help with the wounded. We'll dig graves in the mornin' after the storm breaks. I misjudged ye Lass, forgive me."

"Misjudged me? How did you misjudge me? I haven't done anything heroic. I took a desperate chance and it worked. That's all. And I came here so I could get a horse. Nothing more. That I was inside the garrison when we were attacked was just chance. Please. I don't deserve any credit. Here. Here are the bow and the arrows."

Lya handed the items over to Ghelm and went searching for Haymane in the barracks. Crossing all the muck was not improving her temper any. Nevertheless she raised her chin with new determination as she attempted to avoid the worst of the mess on her way to the barracks.

Ghelm took the items and considered them carefully. He glanced at the line of dead bodies which had been covered by an old piece of sailcloth which was weighted down by rocks to keep the wind from blowing it off. He shook his grizzled head. A smattering of scars were visible in the dim light. He looked older and more tired than she remembered.

He grunted in dwarven fashion, "That's what a hero is Lass, someone who takes a chance, takes a risk... Ye can call it chance that ye was here, but I don't be believin' that. Nope, seen it too many times. Deny it if ye will Miss Lya, but today ye're a hero. I took ye for a selfish, pretty face with an inherited arrogance, but I was wrong about ye. Ye're more than that... a lot more."

The veteran nodded his scarred skull and then took the bow and arrows into the armory. A gust of wind blew Lya's drying hair around her face, and the chill of it could not touch the warmth of the dwarf's words.

Lya entered the barracks where the wounded were being cared for. Seeker Haymane was among them along with Old Mother Haga. The still form of Commander Farfeld lie wrapped in blankets, but he had very little color in his countenance. There were blood-soaked rags everywhere. Several buckets of crimson fluid needed emptying and refilling. The stench of battle's aftermath filled the barracks and was not even masked by the sputtering, smoking fire in the stone fireplace.

"Lya, would you lend a hand here?" Haymane asked. The woman's eyes were hollow and she looked completely exhausted, near collapse actually. There was a look of both need and trust in her eyes which communicated much more than her simple plea.

Stupidity. Sheer and utter stupidity. Rolled up and kneaded together with a generous dollop of foolishness. What was she doing here? Now she was going to play nursemaid to a bunch of strangers who, because of their interference with her life, had dragged her into their mess. It was pathetic. She was pathetic. Worse. She was powerless, greedy, and pathetic. All this. For a horse. And given what she'd seen so far any illusions she'd had of it being a proper horse were rapidly evaporating and she could totally forget any ideas she might have had about their being any kind of tack involved or any of the other gear that usually went with a horse. Hating herself she went to Haymane's side and mustered a sweet seeming.

"Of course." she said simply.

Then off she went looking for things to clean up messes with. Messes of blood. Puke. Other less mentionable body fluids. The next several hours involved a lot of cleaning. Of floors. Cloths. Bodies. Anything else that came to hand. Then there was the boiling of water. And fetching of water. And carrying said water to the sick-rooms. And so it went...

The rain continued through the evening and into the night and the dreaded tolling of the warning bell did not sound. That was only a vague nagging in the back of everyone's mind however, for there were more immediate things at hand to deal with. It was very late into the night when Seeker Haymane finally collapsed onto a cot. The fireplace had been constantly fed and the chill of the unseasonably cold rain was fought off, leaving the barracks hall nice and cozy. Old Mother Haga had brought cauldron after cauldron of broth and bread. She was beginning to totter on her feet as well. Those wounded who could sleep did so now, and those who were in pain had been coaxed into lethargy by the last of the Seeker's Divine influence.

Lya carried the last empty pail back to the kitchens. Mama Haga was resting on a stool with her head rested on an upturned palm. She wasn't quite asleep because her other hand was gently stirring a pot on the hearth. Of course she'd been doing the action for so many years now that perhaps she could do it in her sleep. "Get a bit of rest now Lya, I'll need you in a few hours when we start the new day. Thank you." The poor old woman didn't even open her eyes.

Lya retired to her cot in the storeroom. The day had been utterly exhausting. The rain continued to wash down around them. Only briefly did anyone mention flooding. It was simply too much to think about right now. Just as Lya was about to fall asleep, she heard Mama Haga in the kitchen shuffling around and exhaling loudly as she hoisted the large pot off the hearth and packed it out of the kitchen. Her footfalls could barely be heard moving down the hall, and then... down the stairs.

Lya went to sleep and spent the few hours she had dreaming of being slowly backed into a corner, bit by bit, by crowds of people moaning to her like a pack of zombies. Help us Lya they begged. Do this for us Lya they groaned. We need you Lya they moaned. Then they were on her, their hands grasping tearing at her future. Filling it with their needs. She woke in a sweat and a start and stared about her in the dark.

The next day was filled with errands and more work, and every time Lya thought to leave, something new came up that the garrison needed her help with. By the time she'd eaten supper that night, she'd been exhausted and fell onto her small cot nearly asleep before she landed. The next day was the same, and before she knew it, a week had gone by.

The funeral service for those who fell in battle was a short and somber one. The men were buried in neat straight rows, and large, smooth boulders which had rolled off the mountains behind the garrison over the years, were used as headstones and grave markers. The sky had been overcast, but it was no longer raining. Flooding had been an issue in a few places, but not as bad as several in the garrison had predicted. No reinforcements had arrived, in fact it seemed odd that no one had come to check on them.

A few of the farmers in the region had come to visit the garrison over the last several days, asking in humility for bandages or other needful things. Seeker Haymane had ordered that they be given what little the garrison could spare, and she tried to talk with the good men, at least a little, before they returned home. Commander Farfeld was still alive, but barely... hope for his recovery was slipping away.

Lya woke up and about the only good thing she could say about it was that this was the day she could get safely out from under the garrison's eyes without raising questions.

She went out back and drew herself some water in the dark and took it to her "room" and had herself a shivering cold rag "bath" before dressing herself in her clothes. After that she carefully packed her things, making sure they were set up properly for her delayed journey in search of a proper city in which she could resume her quest for pretty baubles and glittering gold. A girl had to think of her future and she certainly didn't want it to be as an occupant of one of those lonely graves out there.

All packed she looked about her and then set off down the hallway away from her room hoping to get out of here before yet another request for aid, help, or whatever delay came her way. A breakfast would have been nice and a proper hot soak in a tub as well. Best, she thought, to even forget about trying to get her promised horse though it certainly would have been welcome.

Her mind set on the road ahead Lya speculated as she automatically fell into old patterns of thought. Things outside the garrison were changing fast she knew. Palpable were the feelings she had of impending events and avoid them was top on her list of things to do as she made her way quietly out the garrison main building and on across the main "yard" in the early predawn silvery gray light. She may not have Haymane's "sight" but she had that innate sense all thieves do of danger. It was only when a thief's greed overcame them that this sense failed...as it had failed her friend and he'd ended up dangling from a rope, his legs spasmodically kicking out the last moments of his brief life.

Lya's "danger sense" allowed her to get out of the garrison proper while the watchtower guard was using the stone privy. They did not have enough men to double up, and so were taking turns at the watch... but sometimes nature called at inconvenient times.

Moving swiftly as she dared, she reached the intersection which would lead her to the bridge in about an hour. The night was cool, but not as humid after much of the rain had soaked into the ground or evaporated. The hogs were sure happy though. They grunted and rooted in the mud of the week-old puddles. The bridge was about three hours of walking to the northwest from the intersection.

Very nearly as soon as she was outside the gate Lya "went to ground". Though she was, of course, no ranger she did, nevertheless, possess some skill in making herself scarce.

Her plan of action was to make for the bridge and to retrieve the blade and the bauble but not at the price of being discovered or even taking a risk of being discovered. This plan, though the most immediate, was really secondary to her real goal of being quit of this forsaken corner of the world. If she had to lie flat on her belly for an hour at a time to avoid being seen then so be it. She could be patient when pressed by need. When pressed by enough need she could be many things. If she had to make her way to the coast and teach herself to swim that, too, was more acceptable than being found by those gods-rotted raiders.

She kept an ear and eye out before, behind, and to either side as she went along. She even paid attention to her feet in case they should feel the rumble of cavalry or tromping infantry. Paranoid she cast a jaundiced eye at the sky now and then just in case it too wanted a piece of her hide. Finally she forced herself to be wary of even a silence if it were too long.

As she went along a little voice inside her, petulant and childish, kept wishing someone had noticed her departure but she resolutely ignored it and kicked herself for a sentimental fool.
This message was last edited by the player at 22:47, Fri 07 Nov 2014.

From her position under some brush, upriver from the bridge, Lya had a fairly good view downstream and of the road beyond in both directions. It was perhaps an hour before daybreak, maybe less, and it was now or never. In her quick but quiet trek back here from the garrison, she saw that the raiders had been busy. There were fields which had been ignited but blessedly dampened by the heavy rains so the entire southern portion of the general growing area hadn't gone up in flames. There were a couple of cottages burned and barns. There were dozens of dead swine in the road, which as soon as the sun came up, would begin to swell and eventually stink.

As of now though, when there might have been some early morning traffic, there was none. Those who had survived the raiding party were huddled in their meager homes and farmsteads. Nervous and frightened. A few milk cows bawled for relief, and draft horses nickered in anticipation of an honest day's work after the chaos of the terrific thunderstorms the day before.

Lya watched and waited for the right time, and tried to keep blinking so as not to fall asleep...

Lya gave one last look around her before setting off slowly downriver. She kept to the brush and any over available cover as she went and only moved from one covered position to the next after she had considered the best way to get there and the cover it provided. She kept her senses alert going so far as to dunk her whole head in the river for a moment before moving on to freshen her mind a bit.

In this way she made her slow and cautious way down to the covered bridge she remembered so well and slipped silently under it. Moving to the place where she had last sat when the Deputy Seeker had first questioned her Lya reached into the water and groped about for her treasure with the intent of widening her search area to allow for the passage of time and the river's flow though she had taken a little care not to just drop it into the water willy-nilly and, in fact, had taken a rock and placed it over her treasure in an effort to lodge her bauble and blade in place.
This message was last edited by the player at 15:39, Mon 10 Nov 2014.

The water was murky now where it had been fairly clear a week ago. Lya's slender arm searched around in the water for the rock which hid her precious bauble and blade. After several moments of searching, her arm began to get cold. It was then that she noticed the river had risen several inches during the terrible deluge they had gotten, and then went back down. The muddy film on the rocks was still moist. Had her treasures washed down the river?

Refusing to believe that what she had carefully cached away, and had risked coming back for, could be gone, she plunged her hand into the water, more frantic this time. The rock was not there... and evidently, neither were the bauble and the blade...

Just as her distress was about to get the best of her, her hand felt the top of the flat stone. She was nearly shoulder deep now. Then, there, beneath it she found the objects of her search. The bauble and the blade were hers!

And just as she pulled them out of the muddy river water, she heard a whispered voice behind her... "...Фино поклон за Хунтер, али то није за вас..."

As the water rushed under the bridge while Lya knelt at it's side, her arms wet and dripping, she looked quickly over her shoulder to see who was there fright and then anger crossing her features.

The whisper sounded like the same kind of speech as she'd heard at the battle site. A strange speech and one which, to her, was unknown.

Quickly placing her bauble and blade on the river-shore she rose while at the same time whipping her sword from it's place in her back-sheath.

The quick smooth motion of Lya's draw and turn belied the jumble of feelings she seemed to have balled up inside of her. Below the gentle arch of the covered bridge, she looked up the bank, scanning to the south where a little over a week ago she'd been approached by a Deputy-Seeker, Haymane. There was nothing before here in the direction she was looking. Then, she seemed to hear from somewhere in front of her as she held her blade at the ready, a whispered voice, almost like a sigh, "...ти си његов роб..."

Lya was alone, of that she was sure, unless some unseeable thing stood on the riverbank before her. Faintly, in her mind's eye she began to see again some of the images which Seeker Haymane had shared with her. The smell of blood assailed her, the sounds of screams and battle filled her ears, her mouth was filled with the taste of rotting food and the feeling of something vile caressing her skin followed, like the touch of some fat Sultan... and the whisper, echoing through her mind continued its command over and over and over, "...његов роб...његов роб...његов роб..." Finally, the gruesome images around her periphery faded and the sounds of the running river and the smells of the grassy riverbank returned. The sensation of caress diminished, but did not leave entirely.

[Private to Lya: Refer to msg #125 for the images Haymane shared with you. Also, I'm ready to move you in the game, so if you'd like a parting shot at this post go ahead, otherwise I'll end your prologue here.]

Lya shivered with revulsion at the images and the ghostly touch. Shaking her head she gave one last look around and sheathed her sword.

Bending down she picked up her bauble and looked closely at it while rubbing it dry. She turned it this way and that before hanging it around her neck and letting it nestle down in the warm place next to her heart.

Lastly she picked up the sword and looked it over. She tested it's weight and balance before swinging it in a few arcs and passes about her. Satisfied she dried it off and passed it between her belt and her trousers until she could get a back sheath made for it.

Nodding to herself she climbed out from under the bridge and up the bank before setting out once more down the road.

With the sheathing of her sword, the last hints of the very discomforting feelings melted away. Wasting no more time out here in the open, she gathered her treasures and headed back into the cover of the brush along the riverbank, far upstream. When she stopped to catch her breath she examined the beautiful bauble which she'd hung around her neck. Since she'd put it on, she'd felt much better than she had on her way toward the bridge. She felt safe and ready for whatever new trials the Gods seemed set on throwing at her.

As she held it in her hands, she tried to figure out how the locket opened. It was very well crafted. There was a single heart-shaped ruby entwined in delicate golden leaves and the chain from which it dangled was fashioned such that each link was shaped as a tiny flower.

(You may try a DEX or INT check - roll 5d6 and roll low! for possible success...)

The sword was also well-crafted, but was bereft of anything fancy. It was however, very functional and very sharp. The steel was of great quality, and the crosspiece and pommel were sturdy and strong. Even after over a week of being submerged in the river, there was no rust on it and that meant someone had spent hours oiling the metal until all the small pockets, too tiny to see, had been filled. When she handled it though, Lya got a strange sensation down her spine and it seemed almost as if she could hear the whispering of that strange voice, "...није за тебе..."

17:11, Today: Lya rolled 10 using 5d6 with rolls of 2,3,1,3,1. Check to see if can open locket.

Entranced by the locket, Lya forgot about time and focused intently on the puzzle which would allow her to open it. She turned it over and over in her hands, absently touching the heart-shaped ruby, and letting the flower-shaped chain links slip through her nimble fingers. Those fingers finally detected the slightest movement of the ruby in a certain direction. Going on that, within moments she'd figured out how to rotate the two halves of the locket in opposite directions while depressing the ruby. She held her breath as it opened to reveal its secret.

Once the locket was opened, the ruby fell into her palm, and that is when Lya could tell that it was no ruby at all, but an incredibly ornately carved crystal vial with some deep red liquid inside. There was a very small stopper on the back which she thought maybe her fingers might be able to open, should she choose to. How this had been crafted, and by who, was a total mystery to the young thief. Then, she noticed a bit of paper folded beneath the ruby, nearly as thin as an onion skin, and the slightest bit damp. The same instincts which had helped her to open the locket, told her not to mess with the paper until it had dried after being submerged in the river for over a week.

Feeling at least a little triumphant, Lya took to the road once more, being careful until she thought she was far enough away from the garrison and any farmsteads which might have been alerted to her absence. Finally, she began to make good time as she headed toward Falport, perhaps to catch a ship which might take her... somewhere else.

~~~~

Thus ends the Prologue for Lya. Chapter 3b will continue her story as she journeys onward in search of treasures and trinkets...