From Galduria towards Ravenmoor

GM
As morning rises over Ember Lake, you all wake, gather up your gear, and prepare to depart.

The trek to Ravenmoor is expected to take two days on foot, half that on horseback; you'll pass briefly through the small town of Wolf's Ear on the northbound path, then follow the Lampblack Trail upon the river's western edge, skirting the edge of the Churlwood until the trail breaks away from the bandit-infested forest, sometime early on your second day, should weather hold. The road will lead around the greater part of the swamp surrounding Ravenmoor, allowing you to avoid most of the environmental hazards. It does, however, cut much closer to the Churlwood than the other path, leaving it well within the territory of the roving highwaymen the territory is known for.

The weather as you head north from Galduria holds steady. It is warm out, with partly cloudy skies, and the well-worn trail provides no challenges on your way to Wolf's Ear. That town itself is small and fairly unremarkable, aside from being the last civilized stop before the trail leaves Ember Lake behind altogether. You stop there for lunch.

There's not much to do in Wolf's Ear, but if you want to poke around a little, put it in a spoiler labeled "At Wolf's Ear"

After leaving the quiet little hamlet behind, you begin the second leg of your trek up the Lampblack trail. The river runs off to your right as you move northward, less than a hundred feet from the trail; the further north you get, the closer the dark, ominous treeline of the Churlwood grows, until you begin to feel almost pinched between the two.

Sebastian Bacarov
They gather off the road, a minor campsite to be sure, but a place to get their bearings and break bread. With the heat as it is, Bacarov takes the opportunity to pull off his coat and find a seat on a rock. With Wolf's Ear behind them there's only a few more hours of daylight before they'll have to make full camp.

He pulls the worn leather case from alongside his pack. Inside is an equally battered vihuela (guitar). Earlier in the morning, during their departure, he'd brought it out to idly pluck at a song his friend Marcum had learned on a trip to Cassomir. Bacarov wasn't an entertainer, he wouldn't be earning his room and board with it, but it is a pleasant diversion from the darkness of his day job. It's also one of the few times each doesn't mind dabbling in his magical gifts.

Now, as they prepare to pass closer you the Churlwood, he figures they can benefit from any advantages. So he sings a few bars and let's the innate arcana bound to his soul free for just a little while. His voice is rough and gravely, a side effect of the pipe weed he loves to smoke. (Think Tom Waits) -  "Hangman, hangman   Hold it a little while  Think I see my friends coming  Riding a many mile" 

"Friends, did you get some silver?   Did you get a little gold?  What did you bring me, my dear friends  To keep me from the gallows pole?" 

"I couldn't get no silver, I couldn't get no gold   You know that we're too damn poor  To keep you from the gallows pole  Hangman, hangman, hold it a little while  I think I see my brother coming  Riding a many mile" 

"Brother, did you get me some silver?   Did you get a little gold?  What did you bring me, my brother  To keep me from the gallows pole?" 

"Brother, I brought you some silver   I brought a little gold, I brought a little of everything  To keep you from the gallows pole..."  - Gallow's Pole by Led Zeppelin

Dramin Jodare
Dramin looks at the quaint campsite, it isn't much but it will do until they reach Ravenmoor. Wolf's Ear was a disappointment, he was holding onto the hope that everything would be exciting in this journey. No matter.

He looks around the treescape and checks the area and the trees, hoping to know what type of nocturnal animals might lurk around here and pokes his head around for anything in sight.

While he wanders around, a quiet song starts up by Bacarov. Dramin is not normally one for the arts personally, but there is some merit to it as many people even consider the vocals of their spells to be music themself. He entertains himself with the thought and just quietly listens.

He finds a quiet place and starts to study a scroll he has. He thinks on the pros and cons of what he has and decides that at the very least Alarm would keep that ruffian Marsh away from his pack; that and it had tactical merit overnight in this place.

He gets extremely focused in thought in a quiet area to himself and begins his session.

Warshawski
''It can be easy to forget that hard people have soft sides. I like to dance. Bacarov can play the vihuela. It was nice to listen to. It certainly made our travel through the woods and the muck a little more pleasant.''

''Somewhere along the way, a scroll showed up in my backpack. The spirits whispered to me, telling me the school would help conceal my presence... if I could bother to cast it. The magical formula and puzzle that came with the scroll were confusing, too. I dumped the whole mess on Jodare's bedroll. Let him figure the things out. I had enough puzzles in my life already. I didn't need more.''

Each night, I performed my obedience to Ashava, dancing under the moonlight.

When we stopped in Wolf's Ear, we checked to see if our quarry had stopped by on his way to Ravensmoor.

Vincent Marsh
"Heh, fittin that you'd play a debtors song when we are gettin ready to get waylaid to collect a paltry one. Still wonderin where these folk are supposed to come up with 500gp livin out in the woods with their stirges. I'll let Warshawski be the one to inform them they owe an exorbinet sum of money, or they'll get hauled off. Farmers probably invested in their equipment or got medicine. Maybe the town master made off with their coin. Or maybe they've paid what they can't afford this whole time, but the road took its due."

". . . On a serious note, you need to tell yer girl that she needs to dance close to camp when we're on the road. I don't want her gettin separated off to far and snatched. We don't need and jingling belts or castanets givin us up either. Precious few women out on that road, you know how it would go for her."

"You can tell'er I won't give her no s~%! about it, just do her dance quiet close in alright?."

"This town ain't bad if you had enough money to sustain yourself. Nice an quiet little place. Peaceful."

GM
As the group passes briefly through Wolf's Ear, both Warshawski and Marsh are able to find time to poke around and see if Elias Kyle was seen passing through. Though the locals are fuzzy on the details, it seems that a man matching Kyle's description did indeed pass through this way about a month ago ("packin' a mace and a big-ol' heavy crossbow, he was! Must'a been expectin' trouble, maybe from them bandits that poke outta the Churlwood some days.").

As Bacarov finishes his song, Warshawski detects some subtle movement in the foliage nearby. Something- or someone- is approaching.

Warshawski
''One of the first things I learned on the job as an investigator was to keep my eyes and my ears open. I'd learned even earlier how to pick out choice bits of news from the spirits that were constantly whispering to me. So, when the soul of a traveler who had been hung from a nearby tree spoke of a lurker in the bush I knew where to look. That's where I saw the leaves move. Subtle but not right for an animal. Or so I thought, anyway.''

''I unwrapped my scarf from around my waist, holding it loosely in both hands. I made sure the others could see the motion and hoped they would get the hint. This was a time to draw steel. Or prepare spells. Whatever worked.''

"Company, boys." I said softly.

Calwen Snowpaw
To hear the sound of music was a great relief, but she could not help but fear that she lead whatever was following her straight to them. Again she looked around and again she found only darkness. "Is there anything hiding between you", she asked the trees. "Has anything been following me?" She did not really expect a meaningful reply.

She put her bastard sword back into the sheath on her back and motioned Windmane to move forward. "Be greeted, travellers." she called out briefly before she came in sight and let Windmane step out on the clearing. She considered to put her shield away as well and get her flute out, but she was not that sure of them. They might be in league with the stirge-masks after all.

"My name is Calwen Snowpaw, and I am a knight of the White Rose." she called out in Taldan. Like most elves she found the language somewhat crude and lacking subtlety and variations. But she could cherish the beauty of its simplicity and enjoyed to explore its flow."Know the shadow of your arrival has been cast long before our meeting, yet your roles in the play this shadow play beneath the trees in the wind, proud and foul alike, eludes me yet. I come to you in peace to ask for your desire and I shall tell you mine. Will you let me share this night, our songs, and this fire with me?"

She holds her arms open, at her side, so that you can see her hands, even though there is a shield tied to the left. She watches you calm, yet vigilant.

Vincent Marsh
"Uumm, sure I'll speak my desire. You are most welcome to share my fire and anything else of mine you might desire."

Marsh winks at the party.

"Things are lookin up boys, we do indeed have company."

He turns back to the Elven knight and gestures to his close companion.

"My names Vincent Marsh and the guy pluckin the cat gut here is Sebastian. The others have names but they aren't mine to give."

"Hey, you play flute? We could have ourselves a concert."

Calwen Snowpaw
She nods to Sebastian and Vincent from the back of her white stallion and starts to undo her shield, while she maintains serene, noble half-smile and speaks smoothly to Vincent: "I do indeed enjoy to play the flute and believe I am quite adapt at it. At least the last for whom I played did seemed to take delight in my performance."

She kept a perfectly straight face as she spoke and only after she put her shield at the side of her horse and looked to the other three she slightly raises an eyebrow.

Warshawski
''The voice that spoke out to us from behind the bushes was music and poetry wrapped together in a bow of desire. I knew it was an elf even before she walked out into the light.''

''Gorgeous, of course. I've never met an elf who wasn't. Male or female, they're all pretty enough to make a woman's small clothes squishy. That didn't mean she wasn't dangerous, though. Just made her more so.''

Of course, Marsh proved where his real brain was the second he got a glimpse.

"So much for not being a soft-touch, Marsh." I muttered. "One set of firm t%+% and pointed ears and you're ready to surrender."

I raised my voice and kept my scarf at hand.

"I mean no offense, ma'am." ''I was careful to be respectful. She looked the very height of teenaged beauty but she could be a hundred years or more older than me, too.'' "But we don't know you and this road is infested with bandits by all counts. You could be the honey on the trap. If you're going to join us, I'll insist you peace bond your weapon."

Calwen Snowpaw
"None taken" replied Calwen, wondering why the woman would hesitate to state her name. The question she had remained yet unansered as well, but maybe she asked it too subtle. "These forest are indeed dangerous, even though bandits are hardly my greatest concern. It is possible that I brought you in danger by meeting with you, but not by my choice. There is something sinister going in the shadows of the trees, as I indicated earlier, and Ravenmoor seems to be at the centre of it. Before you ask me to bind my weapons, answer a simple question and hear me out. What drives you to Ravenmoor? If that is indeed where you're going." she cast a glance down the road which lead directly to Ravenmoor.

She climbed off Windmanes back in a fluent motion, dropped her own backpack and started to remove saddle, bridle, bags and the blanket on his back as she spoke.

The logic of that woman is striking, yet she overlooks that it works both ways and Windmane and I are outnumbered five to two. She wondered for a moment whether the Vincent and she were married. The ways of Shelyn were often more obscure than those of Calistria and the way they were exchanging digs at each other might suggest it. She got her bundle with evidence with one hand and her finely crafted silver flute with the other. "I do have something to show for."

Sebastian Bacarov
The Long & Winding Road

"Know the shadow of your arrival has been cast long before our meeting, yet your roles in the play this shadow play beneath the trees in the wind, proud and foul alike, eludes me yet."

Sebastian bows his head respectfully and listens as the she-elf speaks. As his want, listening and observing solve more cases than the noises squeezed from one's teeth.

To prove his point, Vinnie opens his mouth and issues one of his more veiled allusions. Bacarov is about to apologize for his crass friend but the newcomer holds her own in eloquent fashion. The detective scratches at his growing beard to hide a smirk. About time someone gave him a dose...

Warshawski fills in the awkwardness with procedure and logic, a good play when the black-hearted Churlwood coughs up an elvish waif bearing sword and shield. Wonder what this Knight of the Rose business is all about?

Sebastian rests his vihuela next to his pack, aware that his short sword lay there too. He has his minor abilities in magic, but experience tells him elves are a hearty bunch when it comes to enchantments.

"These forest are indeed dangerous, even though bandits are hardly my greatest concern. It is possible that I brought you in danger by meeting with you, but not by my choice. There is something sinister going in the shadows of the trees, as I indicated earlier, and Ravenmoor seems to be at the centre of it. Before you ask me to bind my weapons, answer a simple question and hear me out. What drives you to Ravenmoor? If that is indeed where you're going." Sebastian plays with the words in his mind and thinks on Dramin's uncovering of rumors a Blight is impacting the lands around their destination.

''No harm in admitting the obvious. To do else is to attract undue suspicions. But if there are going to be the possibility of unwanted guests to this gathering...''

Bacarov glances to Dramin and Dalton. "Look sharp, gentlemen. If what Mistress Snowpaw says is true, we may have some additional company. Better keep a lookout," he gestures to either side of the small campsite.Especially if that company is in cahoots with the pretty elf here. Bacarov doesn't say the last but he hadn't survive in Magnimar this long by acting the dupe.

Next he stands alongside Marsh and rests a hand on the big man's shoulder. In doing so, he drums a simple rhythm with his fingers, drawing on his innate arcane energies to grant his friend added sight (Casting Deadeye's Lore on Marsh). "Níos fearr scout sí ar ais rian ar an hop. Féach má tá aon rud dorcha..." Bacarov chuckles and adds,"...a leanas as a cuid."

To the new arrival he says, "As my friend Mr Marsh indicated, I'm Sebastian Bacarov. The others are Dramin and Dalton." He waves to the Investigator. "Mistress Warshawski and I have been tasked with finding a man who ventured to Ravenmoor a few weeks back. He's gone missing. The others in our group are tasked with the same." He pauses a moment and decides to 'stand the battlements' as it were. He moves slowly to his pack and buckles on his sword and shoulders his bow and quiver. "If you've brought any unsavory characters along behind you, I think it best we don't peace-tie our means of defense. Any chance you could be more specific on this Darkness out of Ravenmoor? Or what might be following you?" Sebastian keeps his tone even and non-threatening, but he's casting his other senses to the surround.

Calwen Snowpaw
Calwen turns around and reaches for her shield as Sebastian indicates that something might be out there, but hesitates as there does not seem to be immediate danger. Nevertheless, she picks her shield up and uses it as plate to carry the little bundle she got out of her backpack earlier.

'''“Strange how fate plays sometimes. I was not aware that more people went missing in Ravenmoor. I have been looking for someone who was lost, too, only that I found him murdered. It has all to do with an unnatural disease that haunts this forest.”'''

'''“As to what is following me: I don't know. I've never actually seen or heard anything even though I did notice a presence, but I am quite sure that something is watching me. They are humanoids, they come from the dead parts of the forest, it is evil and they wish to steal things we carry, though I am not sure whether they are simply bandits. Let's just say I have certain, not particularly accurate but trustworthy sources – that would take to long to explain now, I'll get back to it later.”'''

'''“Let me explain my findings in detail, for I have a feeling some of it might be relevant to your quest as well and it is hard to say which. Feel free to interrupt me at any time if you have questions or you prefer to skip the details. You probably have heard about that blight that haunts this forest? It has become more and more threatening recently, large portions of the forest die or become twisted abominations of their former self and none of us, who oppose it, can really say why that happens. Ravenmoor, however, is spared from such a fate even though it is right in the middle of it, presumably shielded by the Starsong. Armand, a druid, son to both a human and an elven a parent who fights the effects of said blight, went there to Ravenmoor to learn the rituals that guard the settlement. After that his voice became silent, just like that of the one you seek.”'''

Her voice sounds accurate, though there is a distinct undercurrent of remorse in it. It's not easy for her to speak of these things. She stays close to you and keeps her voice low, though. Every now and then she looks back to the completely unrestrained horse to see whether it notices anything in the environment.

'''“I found him a week ago, murdered and hung up in spider silk in the shadow of a tree, close to the dead tree of a dryad who fell prey to the blight. He was trying to bring back life to a dead place which once was a temple to the beauty of the forest, I could see flowers of hope, as little as they were, bloom there. I also found tracks of one attacker and the body of another, a human man, fallen prey to a beast which had been close to Armand. She – the beast – secured this.”'''

She put down the shield, reached into her bundle and produced a broken and blood stained stirge mask with the distinct smell of herbals inside.

'''“Here is a sample of the spider silk in which he was wrapped. I also found the following items on the body of the attacker: vials with blue whinnis concentrate, a poison, I got one as a sample, some of the raw flayleaf he carryed, which might explain the smell of the mask, a sickle coated in blue whinnis poison. But the most important thing I found was Armand's journal...”'''

She produced the items or samples of them as she spoke, though she held on to the journal. '''“Be careful with the poison. Flayleaf is addictive, I suggest you be careful with that as well, though its effect is limited in unprocessed form. There must have been at least one more attacker, for I found tracks which I cannot explain for certain. It was like there was a single talon claw pierced the ground in irregular intervals next to the tracks. I suspect he wielded a pole arm, likely a war scythe, with a pointy, talon shaped ending. It might have been something else, but the body I found had nothing on it that would explain such tracks.”'''

“I will read the relevant parts the dead man's thoughts to you, which puts much of this into context, but first I would like to rest for a moment and hear more about your search for a while.” she takes a position between kneeling and sitting by the fire, removes her armoured gloves, and runs her fingers along the fine flute, not so much to play it but rather to touch something she connects with good memories and moments of beauty. Her eyes move between the others.

Vincent Marsh
"Lighten up Warshawski, no need to get all catty just cause your little monopoly got derailed. She stepped out into a five on one, either she's that bad ass or she's already got us dead to rights. Or maybe she's bein honest."

In halfing: "'I think so too brother. Look how she fingers that instrument. We can make music for sure.'"

"Don't worry about her mam, she's just jumpy cause she's a tax collector. For those not familiar with human culture, that's right down there with People who clean out chamber pots an at least they are providin an appreciated service."

"Heh, sure pal, I can check our six, but I ain't never seen a bandit that looks like that. Hold that story tellin til I get back miss. I gotta go grope around in the dark an see if I can get a firm grip on our current situation."

Dramin Jodare
Dramin looked at the elf who walked out of the forest and forgot that many humans tend to be enchanted by their presence. Unbelievable. He sighs and puts away his log of the recent events and stands up to greet the woman in a formal Elvish.

"Hail there. I am he who Bacarov speaks. Dramin, adept of magic and blade." His tongue is very by the book and doesn't leave much to dialects. Despite what commands Bacarov speaks out with, Dramin finds himself rolling his eyes to the situation. ''If something is going to strike I will know about it in due time. Right now we have more pressing matters regarding this situation.'' However once he notices the spells being cast by Bacarov and the weapon gathering, he decides its time to show a little prudence. The day is at an end anyway, no need to get stingy.

"Entagari" And with a hand coats himself in a protective layer of Mage Armor.

He puzzles out about the darkness over Ravenmoor, the disease and the potential men chasing her.

"This feeling, this presence, do you think you can describe it? Do your best as it may be helpful in the future. Perhaps I can divine out what it may be. You can never know too much after all." His face gets pensive as he says that as if it has a deeper meaning.

He doesn't even give her room to breathe as he immediately jumps onto another stream of thought. "This mask, it is of a stirge and these vials..." He waves a quick Detect Poison on the vials to confirm the information she provided and relays the information that he knows regarding stirges. "It is clear at this point that something dark is going down at Ravenmoor. I only needed a few more pieces of information to really nail down the hypothesis. Between this blight, the spared town, the stirges, the missing lives and the strange lunar fascination, I can only believe that something occult is going on."

He doesn't feel comfortable admitting he is unable to come to a true conclusion yet and instead internalizes what he may be able to piece together. Instead he draws his bow to emphasize the fact that he's done with the idea for now. Looking at the floor, he realizes there is still some other loose end as he thinks back on what Calwen mentioned regarding the extra tracks and the talons.

"Despite all this wonderful information you've provided, I would like to hear what this journal has in it before making any further assumptions regarding the state of the forest, Ravenmoor and your own allegiance." He doesn't sit and instead just finds a spot where he can hear and see the elf clearly.

Warshawski
''First the ass chews me out for showing compassion to our client. Now, he's chewing me out for being wary of a complete stranger.''

"Men. If she ends up being an evil werewolf I'll just let her eat your insides." ''I snorted and kept my scarf out and loosely wrapped around my hands. Ready to use, just in case. Then I listened to the story the elf had to tell.''

"We already knew something strange was going on in Ravenmoor. Having more information's good." ''I admitted, finding the information disturbing. Unsettling. Nature and I weren't exactly best friends but even I knew this blight spreading would only mean disaster for the city and maybe even the world.''

While the others discussed journals and samples, I whispered to the spirits and wandered through my own memory, searching for knowledge.

GM
To Calwen: Windmane seems relatively calm, though clearly wary of the travelers. If there is some threat afoot, he does not seem to detect it.

To Vincent: You slip away from the crowd and begin probing the nearby wood in the direction Calwen appeared from. Relying on your well-tested tracking skills, you uncover evidence that a number of humanoids have passed through this area in the last few days- perhaps the last few hours, even- but appeared to be heading northward, their path winding and nonsensical. You also find another set of tracks, likely belonging to some kept animal, but are unable to discern exactly what type. Could be bandits- the footprints suggest rugged, well-worn footwear of varying sizes and shapes, but nothing any civilized man might be caught about town with. It's hard to determine the exact size of the group considering the ramshackle way in which they moved through the area. In any case, they don't seem to have been heading deeper into the wood, so it is unlikely they followed or even ran across the elven newcomer.

To Dramin: Your detect poison spell confirms the poisonous contents of the vial Calwen holds, as well as the stuff smeared along the inside edge of the sickle, which seems to have been there for days- it is cracked and peeling. You don't recall any religious significance to stirges at all, even in the most backwater faiths across the Inner Sea, but when Calwen describes the strange tracks an idea pops into your mind- it is possible that tracks like what she mentioned might have been caused by some manner of insect, as some of them walk on the claws of their segmented legs. Of course, you'd have to see the tracks yourself to be sure, but...

To Warshawski : Indeed, your studies of Ravenmoor's history back in Magnimar mentioned that, several generations ago, a particularly nasty blight struck the town, killing crops and effectively destroying its once-lush vineyards, but it seems to have recovered well enough. You remember reading that the locals claim the blight was turned back by Iola Kriegler, the town's spiritual leader of the time, who left on a vision quest and returned, accompanied by a pair of druids from the Churlwood. Some obscure rituals performed by Kriegler and the druids seems to have halted the spread of the blight around Ravenmoor, and even allowed some degree of regrowth to occur- though the vineyards themselves seem to have been left to the ashes of time.

Sebastian Bacarov
The Long & Winding Road

''Blight, shadowy folks in the forest...an isolationist town holding it at bay. Please don't tell me the Queen of the Festival's prize is a one way trip to the altar...''

Dramin's response in elvish is admirable and poetic, but his eye rolls only reinforce Bacarov's original impression of the youth. ''You told me you seek knowledge and experience but you always think you're the smartest in the room. Careful, boyo, one of these days those rolling eyes of yours are going to be quickly followed by your head rolling from your shoulders. ''But Bacarov stays on task. The kid mentions what he's been thinking, a cult. You don't kick everyone out after daylight or worship a traveling god but do no traveling if there's not something wrong with your town charter.

"Flayleaf...one of Minvandu's fighters down at the Matador uses it. Something to do with mental toughness," Sebastian wonders at the drug, thinking on the possible uses.

Warshawski slips her comments to Marsh like a knife and for the 50th time he wonders if bringing Marsh along was a mistake. Marsh thankfully goes to recon the elf's backtrail. Bacarov didn't know this Calwen from a hole in the ground. Frankly, if she's hanging around with druids she's probably got a good connection with her surroundings. But he trusts Vinnie's skills in the wild.

He nods appreciatively to the elf's summation and agrees with Warshawski's request. "So, group of attackers, using sickles...poisoned at that...you've notes the tracks of another attacker with a pointed depression next to it which might be a scythe-like weapon..." Bacarov rubs at his chin as he takes in the information. His mind goes back to prior cases in the city.

As he thinks and listens, he inspects the mask, studying the scents and other clues available. Perhaps there might be traces of leftover magics or auras...he mutters a scrap of poetry under his breath to access his arcane abilities.

In response to Calwen's request for info, Bacarov looks up from the mask. "We've passed through Galduria by way of the river. Seems the town there has a hands off approach with Ravenmoor. It's reportedly not too welcoming, folks there don't cater to overnight stays. No taverns or inns," Bacarov gives the odd mask a wave."...but they do have a fondness for stirges. Keep them as pets in fact." He goes back to studying the mask when another thought occurs to him. "The spider silk, was it naturally spun or a manufactured binding?"

Calwen Snowpaw
If Calwen was irritated by the conversation in halfling she didn't show, nor whether or not she understood.

To Dramin she replied: '''“Well, it was like noticing something extremely flighty out of the corner of an eye, which one cannot see by looking straight at it. I have been bestowed with the temporary ability to commune with the trees and the plants of the forest and while that is a new experience to me, it confirmed my doubts. Trees don't think, they grow thoughts. They experience life in a way that differs completely from ours. But they can be helpful. They cannot tell me what anything looks like, but they feel the tremor of the steps and now on how many feet it walks. In this case, two.”'''

'''“The webbing in which I found Armand looked natural. I must admit that I did not have the heart to examine his remains as closely as I should have. There were numerous holes in his body, whether they were the cause of his death or applied post mortem I could not say. In combination with the strangely organic tissue in which I found him...” she prodded the small folded leather piece in which a sample of that webbing was stored, “I think... It's possible...” she had to swallow and avert her gaze briefly before she continued, “that his body, alive or dead, may have been used to host the larvae of a parasite. Something that wraps the its victims in that kind of webbing. I can't say for sure what happened to him though, Armand's remains were already in a state of decay that suggested he hung there for at least five days before I found him. I buried him in a place that think he was fond of...”''' Tears were showing in the corner of her eyes and she grasped her flute tighter.

As Baracov comes to speak of the stirges, which are kept as pets in Ravenmoor: “Wait...” replied Calwen, and while she expresses herself smoothly and accurate as ever, but her gaze seems lost in the distance and her eyes widen. One might even get the impression she becomes pale, even though her skin is already impossibly white. '''“If the people of Ravenmoor themselves associate with stirges, then the shadows over that village shift, the Dreamweaver is not the Great Dreamer after all and that is the pit into which Armand fell. And so would I have fallen, had the Great Dreamer not sent me to you. It might not be hope that reigns this village, but fear and submission into a dark fate, darker than destruction. I need more than a suspicion, I need to be sure, but if Kriegler is a traitor, he shall die by my sword, so Savoured Sting help me.”''' She didn't raise her voice, but instead looked down, filled with both sorrow and shame.

She takes a breath and looks Sebastian with her bright blue eyes. '''“Forgive me if I am being cryptic. While I would very much like to know more about the man you are trying to find, what it has to do with taxes – are you bounty hunters? – I believe the time has come to tell you the rest of it.”'''

She opened up Armand's journal and started to read, but she omitted any reference to Lyila from when she read the relevant passages.

Warshawski
"I've got to agree with the Knight of the White Rose." ''The more she talked, the easier I was growing with this elf. Maybe that was a mistake but my gut was telling me she wasn't the enemy.''

''I listened as she read the journal entries. It was like story time only it was the sort of story that made you want to pull the covers up over your hear and sleep with a loaded crossbow in hand.''

"What she's saying meshes with what I found in the records." I said to the group when the elf stopped reading."There was a blight years ago and this Iola Kriegler did end it with some sort of ritual, though the grape fields were left as ash at the time. I'm not the world's most informed person when it comes to religions outside of my own, but isn't Desna's arch-enemy a giant insect? What if good old Iola didn't come back with Desna's blessing but with her enemy's? And what if now they're a cult and Stirges are their symbols?"

Dalton the Thirsty
The monk, who had been silently watching and listening to the exchange, feels that Calwen's query should be resolved quickly, and finally speaks. When his voice breaks in, it's a bit of a surprise to everyone, as he had been so silent as to fade into the background around you.

"Bounty hunters is a strong term for who we are. I call myself an adventurer, and my name is simply Dalton the monk," he says, touching fingertips to chest and gesturing at those who had already introduced themselves, "but those I travel with are truly professional investigators. I humbly offered them my assistance when they set out to find Elias, who has a loved one that is concerned for his safety."

He glances at Warshawski. "I know little and less of your strange religions, but I confess I had my suspicions about any town that thinks highly of the parasitic Stirge."

Calwen Snowpaw
“I am afraid I have no knowledge on the ethos of Desna, but, if it is so, there may well be a connection.” she replied thoughtfully to Warshawski's comment.

She nodded gracefully to Dalton as he introduced himself. '''“What I know about stirges is limited but from what I have come to learn they are mammals, not insects, despite their odd faces they have more in common with bats than midgets. They are predators who feed on blood and themselves no more or less evil than any other animal; unfortunately they are most often contagious. I... don't know whether they are parasites or weave nets, but I doubt it.”'''

'''“If you are going to Ravenmoor I would ask you take me with you. It seems very unwise to disclose my own agenda or what I have learned in this place.” She got her water skin out of her backpack and drank a sip to get the shale taste out of her mouth. “We should also be very careful what we eat and drink in this forest and particularly what is offered to us in Ravenmoor.”'''

With a nod to Sebastian she picked up her flute without a further comment and started to play a soft, thoughtful melody which build up over time.

Dalton the Thirsty
Dalton shakes his head, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "I'm no scholar of beasts, but it seems unlikely that Stirges, no matter how bothersome, could overcome an experienced druid like Armand by themselves. No, there some other party at work in that, I'm sure."

"Where I am from it is said that it is ill fortune to turn down an offer of help from an elf. I welcome you to come with us to Ravenmoor."

Sebastian Bacarov
Calwen reads from the journal, the words like the horror tales Bacarov favored as a child. Warm comfort twisted to oddity twisted to the sprung trap. Warshawski's metaphor of the honeyed trap comes to mind. It's a welcome change of pace when she seems to soothe her nerves with music. He looks at his vihuela leaned against his gear, understanding.

To Dalton's response, Sebastian agrees. "It would seem there's a larger justice to be found here. I concur, your presence and experience is welcome."

Sebastian finishes studying the mask and hands it back to Calwen. The wearer died violently and bloody, an obvious observation. But at the least, it meant Armand didn't go down without a fight. Then there's the idea that his attackers may have been the town's folk. If they've given themselves over to a power that keeps them safe, then they'd do anything to cover it up.

"Isolation is the warm blanket of anonymity psychopaths love to hide under. Let's their minds get all comfortable with the dark things they've done." Bacarov says finally as he stares at the ground in thought. He stuffs his hands into the pockets of his vest, absently pats around for his pipe. "So we've got your friend running afoul of this group, add to it our fellow showing up. Ravenmoor has been busy indeed trying to cover up their secrets."

He realizes finally that his pipe is in the inner pocket of his coat and guess to retrieve it. "What's worse, our theories and evidence circle around the possibility these people truly believe they're defending their way of life. A potent mixture. There are few places a name-giver wouldn't go to defend their family."

"Bear with me here," He finds his tobacco pouch and begins stuffing the bowl of his pipe. "We're going to be going in there on an errand to collect taxes, maybe ask after Elias, who's to say they don't simply put us in a hole immediately? Are we prepared to fight a whole town?" Bacarov lights his pipe and holds up a hand. "Worst case of course. I'm suggesting that we come up with a plausible story for our visit in order to buy some time to investigate."

Dalton the Thirsty
"The possibility is there that Elias was...waylaid," Dalton says, his mouth forming the euphemism with some distaste. "But there was only one of him, and there's five of us. Six now, miss," he says, nodding to Calwen.

"There's no question that one's religious beliefs can lead one down dark and irrational paths. This exact problem is why religion was outlawed in my home country." he shakes his head. "I can only hope that these citizens will listen to reason peacefully, but I believe we could hold our own long enough to escape if things really got out of hand. Elias only had himself to rely on. We have each other."

Dramin Jodare
Dramin looks upon the group and shuffles through the diary once Bacarov is done with it. While interesting, it has no hard facts and the data is purely subjective; and this doesn't exactly worry him but makes him more thirsty to find some hard fact himself. ''I always seem to stumble across the greatest of fun. I suppose I can change my entire thesis after all of this.''

He turns to Bacarov, "This place does indeed smell, though I suggest we do not draw conclusions yet as we are still dealing with hypothetical situations. As plausible as something is, it doesn't necessarily make it probable or even possible once all the facts are gained. While I do believe most of this elf's story, I feel that at the very least we should corroborate it. If something foul is going on, I would like to know about it; likewise if something is not wrong, then I would like to also know to save myself more wasted thought in the future." His tone is very matter of fact and doesn't betray any emotion toward the now dead druid and the potential danger that may lurk ahead. His neutral facade drops and he puts up a smile when he faces Calwen, "Litsenon ar' naski'lelaeth venma' maker lle lye omentuva. Tenna' san'".

He continues to promenade.

"If we must head to this town and we must fight, we lack sheer numbers; even with my bow on your sides. I do submit to Bacarov's idea then, though I am not one myself for cover stories and intrigue." He kneels down to the discarded mask. "You did say anonymity allowed one to reign free, liberated from all worldly shackles..." He picks it up and carefully tries to fit it to his face. "Perhaps if we stumble across these pursuers we can acquire more anonymity." He places the mask on the rock delicately where Dalton sits.

"Regardless, I am of the opinion that we should wait on Marsh's return as unfortunate as that is." He leaves the statement hanging, letting the vagueness float in the air.

Calwen Snowpaw
Calwen listened and played her flute as she did. The humans seemed to struggle a bit with the proper form to salute her and she took a certain delight in it. She had heard “madam” in different ways of abbreviation but never the entire word, “mistress”, “miss”. Of those she liked “miss” most, she wasn't married after all. She wondered whether she should point out that but human protocol the correct form to salute a knight would be lady, but not milady (though she did not own land, the best comparison was an Eagle Knight), that it was perfectly in order to use her name and the comparison she enjoyed most was “honey pot”. But for now she just enjoyed to leave things as they were; they would probably start to use her name once they got familiar. Humans didn't usually take long for that.

“Elias”, so that was the name of the man they were looking for. She couldn't remember any human by that name. Then again, she had just come back from Irrisen, so it was hardly to be expected.

She found the idea of a cover story a bit too complicated. They had a good story. They could simply stick with it, but not admit everything they suspected. Even if the villagers, or some of them, had something to do with Elias appearance, they would likely rather maintain a façade of innocence than attack them, raising unnecessary attention would be the last the villagers wanted. Making a single one man disappear was a lot less suspicious than a band of investigator who investigated the disappearance of the first. But that was hardly her choice to make.

Consequently, she wondered, if she was true, if the people of Ravenmoor had anything to do with Elias disappearance. Even if her suspicions were correct he might have gotten lost for any number of reasons in the forest. If they wanted to avoid attention, simply paying him out might have been the better choice. But maybe they needed fresh blood for their sinister purposes. Maybe they didn't have the money. Maybe they didn't care because they didn't expect a reaction.

If they found the root of that evil they might not have to fight anyone else. No matter what the people there had done, genocide of its population could not be their purpose and if they defeated the cause of all this, they might not choose to fit, even if they were in it.

That the story seemed to have a romantic component, that Elias loved one was part of the reason why they were here gave the story a sweet touch, yet she feared that a happy ending was not very likely and it would cause pain to more good people.

Dramin had the right idea. If she was trying to fool them, it was not to lead them into an ambush, that didn't make a lot of sense, but to bring them up against the villagers for her own purposes. She certainly wanted to find out the truth as well and her ideas were so far simply a theory based on circumstantial evidence. After all she did not fully trust them either, that was why she had played down Daravon's role and refused to mention Lyila at all, exposing herself was one thing, but she could not expose her friends. She was a bit disappointed by the direct threat he uttered. Being careful was one thing, an accusation and a threat another, she did not deserve that. She finished her song with a long tune.

'''“I cherish the light more than I fear the dark. May the light shine on your path as well.”''' she replied smoothly with an intense but somewhat sad look. She did not return his smile, whether or not he believed her did not make her more right or wrong, she had no reason to fake amusement or engage in a game of dominance. “I need to brush Windmane and check his hooves.”

Warshawski
''I listened to the chatter. The men talking back and forth. The elf woman responding on occasion. I went over the facts in my head and closed my eyes. I tuned out the conversation and listened to the whispers of the spirits on the wind. It isn't as easy outside of the city. Like people, spirits press close inside urban centers. Outside, they drift apart like dandelion seeds floating on the breeze.''

Vincent Marsh
"Eh, well there's evidence that a number of humanoids have passed through this area in the last few days- perhaps the last few hours, even. Lookin close though they appear to be headin northward, their path winding and nonsensical. Not sure what to make of that, hopefully not the wanderin dead."

"There's another set of tracks too, likely belongin to some kept animal, couldn't exactly what type. Could be bandits- the footprints suggest rugged, well-worn footwear of varying sizes and shapes, nothin any civilized man might be marchin about town in. It's hard to determine the exact size of the group considering the ramshackle way in which they moved through the area. In any case, they don't seem to have been heading deeper into the wood, so it is unlikely they followed or even ran across our elven newcomer."

"So I'm still thinkin we got ourselves a bonfide elven Knight of the Rose here with us. Maybe ya'll already figured it out that even an elven bandit, if there were one, wouldn't bother spendin all her money to get that get up together to fool people on a road no one travels to a place no one wants to be."

"Can't say for sure, but I am guessng those tracks mean someone's lookin for someone or something."

"We should probably keep a bit lower profile I guess."

"Dammit. You already did all the story tellin didn't ya!?"

GM
As Marsh finishes his scouting report, you all realize from the changing color of the sky and the increasingly loud trilling of the cicadas that night will soon fall.

Dramin Jodare
Dramin ponders on Marsh's words. "Seeing as most of us cannot walk the darkness as well as others, perhaps we should set up a post tonight and continue in the morning. Marsh do you believe that you can continue to track some clues in the morning as we move over to Ravenmoor or do you feel as if they might become stale overnight?" He eyes the bigger man, judging his call as if to learn some more himself.

"Whatever is chasing the elf might still be on the hunt though, and if it is a beast of the dark there is no need to fight it in its home terrain at an inopportune time; though it pains me to lose that excellent observation, I would rather die studying something grander like immortality."

He sits down, waiting to hear the rest of his companions.

"I can ward this area for a prolonged time, but magic is just a tool and we would still require a post. Marsh, if you wish to hear the story I'm sure one of us can fill you in." He looks for the journal, "There is some light reading required though." partly smirking.

Vincent Marsh
"Well, if you want to find the makers of those tracks we could follow em, but we want to get to Ravenmoor right? Or did somethin she had to say change our plans? As in why an Elven Knight of the Rose is out this way in the first place?"

Dramin Jodare
"Oh yes we still need to get there. Though it would be prudent to see if the tracks end up near Ravenmoor as well. If this hunter is chasing our new elf friend and it came from Ravenmoor, we will know that much moore." He chuckles to himself before he realizes that Marsh was gone for most of the time.

"It will make more sense when you hear the rest."

With a backward wave Dramin goes off to find a stick to measure the clearing, noting how much space there is to work with. He is lost in thought in an attempt to maximize potential sleeping arrangements. Every so often he pulls out a tiny piece of wire and rolls it around in his hands, shaping it unconsciously.

Vincent Marsh
"Alarm spell. Nice."

"Might as well sleep where they've passed. If they didn't cut the track it will be a while before they pass back this way . . . Unless they're goblinoids, then they might keep wanderin past dark. Spell casters that need to recoup spells sleep first. Two up on watch at a time if we can manage it. With casters we're only gonna be able to travel 12 hours a day and be fully rested."

"The elf doesn't have to peace tie her sword. Her lot is thrown in with ours. She's a Knight of the Rose, she has earned that blade and I want it on my side in a fight."

Dalton the Thirsty
Dalton can't help but smile as he watches Dramin and Marsh prepare for the night's rest. Their professionalism and seriousness belied their scruffy appearances. "I'm a very light sleeper, and in my past travels I often stood watch the entire night. I'd be content to take first watch."

Warshawski
Marsh returned and while the news was good, his words were just as infuriating as ever.

"Midnight watch." ''I said the words, then worked to help set up camp in silence. I wasn't stupid. I know very little about sleeping in the woods so I asked for help.''

"Calwen, right?" I approached the other woman and offered my hand for shaking. "Name's Warshawski. I work taxes in Magnimar. Investigations into tax dodgers and the like. Since we're stuck here with a bunch of boys I figured you and I could share some ground. A tent if you're the sort to sleep in tents and a latrine area away from prying eye."

''I know it wasn't an apology for being suspicious but I didn't have anything to apologize for. Alone, in a forest full of things that wanted us dead and heading towards a town filled with more things that might want us dead? Paranoia was smart.''

Dramin Jodare
Dramin was surprised at the ruffians recognition of the spell he was contemplating. "Have some personal experience with it Marsh?" He was half joking, but it came off more sharply than intended. The next time the wizard looked at his hands he saw the wire bent into the shape of a bell.

"I can only cover this area here with magic." He drew a line in the ground with the stick, no more than 20 feet. "We will have to bunch in close." His eyes settled on Warshawski and Calwen, his voice dry and clinical. "Assuming you want to be in the range of my alarming ward that is. Do what you feel you should though, it is no more or less effort on my part. I just require my rest for the morrow."

Vincent Marsh
"Yeah, it's a useful spell, but like you said it can't stand on its own. Nice thing is when you storm the camp, sometimes the caster pops his head up to look, makes it easier to lop their heads off."

Dalton the Thirsty
Dalton chuckles as he sets his small collection of equipment down on the ground within the circle marked by Dramin. He only leaves his weapons equipped, and glances around at the darkening woods around him. "Would you all object to a fire?" he asks, curiously. "Nights can get chilly in these parts. I can see plenty of firewood in that treeline."

Dramin Jodare
Dramin listens to the monk's query and weighs the pros and cons in his head. At that point it becomes clear that the fire would work in his favour threefold, by keeping them warm, casting light and potentially drawing the hunter in. The latter would not be considered a pro by many, so he just smiles and nods to the monk, leaving his agenda silent.

"If I require to take watch I would request the first, as then I can place the alarm for the remainder of the time and refresh my own armor before settling down; otherwise we will have a blank window of time and I dislike wasted time." He doesn't press the issue but sits on the word 'if'.

Dramin places his falchion by Dalton and his stuff, keeping his lighter bow on hand and the small ceremonial dagger on his hip. Rummaging through his stuff he finds a small pearl and focuses onto it intently.

Sebastian Bacarov
"I'll take third watch." Sebastian speaks up. "My mom venerates Sarenrae. I guess greeting the dawn has been a habit of mine for a while." It's also the only time of day Bacarov feels at peace. He wouldn't be surprised if Warshawski told him it's the time when the spirits leave the living alone. For the Magnimar Watch Inspector, he sought the dawn hours greedily, hoping Abadar saw no offense in his smile towards the Dawnflower.

He toes at some if their gear and grins. "Assuming we're unmolested tonight, I'll see if I can dust up a serviceable breakfast."

He then searches thru his pack and pulls out a signal whistle. It's battered and tarnished but still bears the sigil of the City Watch. "It might be a bit mundane, but whomever is in watch, this can help in waking the others. 'Fill your hands with weapons, fill your mouth with noise,' as my old sarge would say." Bacarov looks at the old thing in his hands and smiles, remembering his first night on the streets when the whistle and his uniform had been pristine.

"Something else, and Vinnie can help I'm sure, if we want to expand our perimeter, I've got some twine so we can attach noisemakers." He grins at Marsh. "Remember that time east of Sandpoint? Our little twine perimeter gave us just enough time to shinny up a tree and let that bear have his way with our lunch."Looking Dramin's way he adds. "No offense kid, but I wouldn't mind some mundane back up to your spell. Like they say up in the snowy north, use layers."

Back around to Marsh, "I'll fill you in on the details so far..." Sebastian relates the previous minutes' conversation and the possibility they're dealing with a cult that worships stirges or a god who's avatar is the creature. "...chances are, the people of Ravenmoor see this entity or ritual as the reason their village remains unaffected by the blighting. The behavior of these mask wearing folk suggests cult, but their methods and use of flayleaf is interesting. Like they seek to firm their wills against something... I don't know. I've dealt with my share of crazy, but this one is new to me."

Over to Dramin, "If we can get the clothing that goes along with the mask, infiltration isn't a bad idea. But caution should rule. In my experience with cults, they tend to know the other members considerably well."

Bacarov continues setting things up for camp, After a few minutes, Bacarov will responds to Warshawski's request for aid . "Spent some time with my dad camping out south of the city. I'm no trapper, but I can help." He leans in and whispers...

Warshawski:"'I don't want to upset our new party member, but based on her descriptions and the ones in the journal, can you tell if this Armand's spirit is still around? Maybe staying close to her?' He nods Calwen's way. To the others as camp is established, 'Be sure to use those mosquito nets. It'd be a shame to survive cult-sickles only to be killed by a blood poison.' Bacarov grins to himself and mutters, 'Cult-sickles...'"

To the others as camp is established, "Be sure to use those mosquito nets. It'd be a shame to survive cult-sickles only to be killed by a blood poison." Bacarov grins to himself and mutters, "Cult-sickles..."

Once done with setup he'll tune up his vihuela and nod to Calwen. "How about a tune to celebrate your fallen friend?"

Calwen Snowpaw
Calwen is busy for a while tending her horse. Every now and then she would whisper words into Windmane's ear, even though it does not look the horse would understand her.

She smiles at Marsh's friendly words when he comes back. '''“Alas, as much as would like to claim otherwise, some elves may do follow the call of greed as well, there are elven bandits, if not many. My apology that you were excluded. I shall have a look at those tracks myself in the light of morning. The tracks did not look as though whatever left their print in the forest moved with particular care, did they?”'''

To Dramin she replies: '''“I may guard your sleep, if you want me to. I have no spells to prepare. I am not able to see in utter darkness either, my eyes simply require a little less light. For those of you who do watch – Windmane, my trusty horse, is gifted a very acute sense of smell and sharp ears. If you notice some discomfort about him or there is a fair chance something is approaching.”''' She was not sure whether they trusted her enough to let her guard them, but she certainly had to offer.

She takes Warshawski's hand gently in an elegant motion as it is offered, though it seems like she is not used to that kind of gesture: '''“I should very much like to accept your offer and join you in your tent. Thank you.”''' She adds a mild smile and lets go of Warshawski's hand. “Allow me to set it up for us then.”

She nods to Sebastian. "That would be the music this night deserves. It will be my honour to join you in song."

Dramin Jodare
Dramin sits up after the glow of the pearl dies down. "No offense taken Bacarov. Though I must say it is more of an augmentation of skills rather than a skill itself." He talks the words to Gravity Bow under his breath but doesn't complete the verbal components. "Thats where magic shines best." He looks down on the mask again, its pieces broken. "Let us hold onto this, I may be able to recall a technique my father taught me down the road. Though perhaps it is for the better then if it remained in this state, if it is indeed a cult then perhaps its absurd to think they won't have some sort of marks to tell each other apart."

Dramin grabs something from his pack before leaving the area, a Scroll of Shield though he notices the extra in the bag as well. ''Sigh. I only wanted to spread the interest and beautiful scripts. No matter then.'' He puts it in close hand as well.

"So without further distraction." He focuses on the thin bell he made of wire and begins playing the imaginary piano again with his hand, "Hilomni". A moment later a slight glow appears on the floor, though it vanishes as quickly as it came.

Casts Alarm using the Arcane Bond.

"If you must leave the perimeter, just say 'Infuertio' as you cross. Failure to do so will cause a small, though loud, noise. I would demonstrate but it really would defeat the purpose if we are to use it correctly."

Sebastian Bacarov
Bacarov smiles in return to Calwen's acceptance and once the camp is established he grabs a seat near his pack so he can lean against it. He plucks at the vihuela for a time until the right song comes to him. An old man named Mueler had taught him the piece in return for finding us son's killer. The boy, a merchant named Herkel, had been killed in his stall after closing for the pittance in his pocket. Mueler hadn't seen his son in several years and had documented his emotions at approaching Magnimar. How the spires of the ancients and the modern scraped against the sky, it spurred him to write a song. In his time, Mueler had been an accomplished musician.

When Calwen joins him, Bacarov lights his pipe and offers tobacco in the fashion of fellowship. Then he plays a few notes to give her the key for the piece. The song is slow but the combination of chords lends hope and brightness to the words. Again, his gravely voice sings low and soft.

"When the night shows  the moon and stars they grow  All the strange things,  they come and go, as early warnings  Stranded fish have no place to hide  still waiting for the swollen twilight tide  There's no point in direction we cannot  even choose a side."

"I took the old dirt track, you know the one,  the hollow shoulder, across the waters.  On the tall cliffs they were getting older,  sons and daughters  The jaded underworld was riding high  Waves of steel hurled metal at the sky  and as the nail sunk in the cloud, the rain  was warm and soaked the crowd."

"Lo, here comes the flood  We'll say goodbye to flesh and blood.  If again the seas are silent in any still alive  It'll be those who gave their island to survive.  Drink up, dreamers, you're running dry."

"When the flood calls  You have no home, you have no walls  In that thunder crash  You're a thousand minds, within a flash  Don't be afraid to cry at what you see  The act is gone, there's only you and me  And if we break before the dawn,  they'll use up what we used to be."

"Lo, here comes the flood  We'll say goodbye to flesh and blood  If again the seas are silent in any still alive  It'll be those who gave their island to survive  Drink up, dreamers, you're running dry."

- - - song by Peter Gabriel

---

In the evening he dreams of passing spirits and the faces of the long dead who he couldn't save. He's used to the demons of his work, reconciling that justice would put them to bed. That and the occasional drink.

His turn at watch comes and he awakens to garb himself in his armor and gather his weapons. He loops his old signal whistle around his neck and begins walking the perimeter, bow out and arrow knocked and bull's eye lantern lit.

Warshawski
''I did what I could to help Calwen set up our tent. Then I prepared myself for the night. Even the possibility of ambush couldn't convince me to sleep in my armor, so I left that off. Then I cleaned up and crawled into the sack. I listened to Bacarov's song as I drifted off to sleep. Soon enough I would be woken up to take my shift and I would dance under the moonlight in devotion to the True Spark.''

Vincent Marsh
"Yeah I suppose, but I still ain't heard of no Elven Knight of the Rose getup wearin bandits. If you are the first so be it cause I'm fooled."

"I'll take whatever watch you want Sebastian just tell us the rotation. Good job on the stringin of the bells."

"Build a fire and whatever if they are gonna play music it won't much matter. Might as well be warm and loud."

GM
Night falls, and the party sets up camp. The cicadas provide suitable background noise to which much of the party gets to sleep; Warshawski performs her nightly obedience to Ashava, and eventually the watch is passed to Inspector Bacarov.

As the detective patrols the campsite, careful not to upset Dramin's alarm spell or his own tripwires that lie slightly further out, the only other lifeform that shares the night with him is Windmane, Calwen's loyal steed, who acknowledges Bacarov's passing with a snort.

Near sunrise, with Bacarov's watch about halfway over, he detects some presence nearby- coming not from the wood, but from down near the riverbed.

To Sebastian: You hear what sounds like several hushed voices discussing something. They do not seem to have detected your presence as of yet, but you can hear a sort of quiet anxiety and aggression in their tone.

Sebastian
(Post for GM only)

Bacarov freezes once hears them, ascertaining their direction then angling to our a tree or brush between himself and the voices. Keeping an arrow knocked he places his whistle to his lips and clamps it there and returns his hand to the bow string. It's not hard for him to fall into practice, running the if/then statements in his mind.

Ok, chummer, if you're gonna miss where I'm hiding, then I'll stay cozy and listen. He glances back towards the camp. The smell of the now doused campfire looms large like a clanging gong. He looks back in the direction of the voices.''Okay, first paluka I see, I do a little thought sowing...get him thinking the smell of campfire is 90°off. Maybe give my sorry hoop time to sneak back to the camp and wake the group quiet like.''

Be settles in and listens...

GM
(Post for Sebastian Bacarov only)

As you sneak a bit closer to the riverbed, you see several humanoid shapes moving slowly down by the water, and at this distance you can begin to make out some of what they are saying, hushed though their voices are.

"...back into the water, I'm tellin' ya. Why would it go up on land? You saw that campfire up there."

A nasally, high-pitched voice responds: "Pardon me, Vikas, but who made you the expert on draconic behavior? I was once a professor at the arcane biology branch at the Twilight Academy! And I am telling you, it went up on land! You should be checking the foliage!"

A gruff, female voice chips in: "And you should be quieter, 'professor.' As loud as you're yapping, you'll wake up those campers back there. Now shut up, all of you. I'm trying to track."

By now, you can make out the shapes a little better: five humans, one of whom appears to be a large, muscular woman with some kind of heavy, two-handed weapon. The others are holding heavy crossbows. The last figure is a much smaller humanoid, perhaps a halfling or gnome.

Almost as soon as the tension in your muscles begins to lessen- they are aware of your encampment, from the sound of things, but have no interest in attacking you- you hear a small rustling from the brush nearby. When you glance over, you see a pair of glistening eyes staring at you from a clump of riverside reeds, and you can hear strained breathing.

Some thick, viscous liquid is pooled on the ground near the reeds.

Sebastian Bacarov
(Post for GM only)

Bacarov lowers his weapon, eyes locked with the pair of eyes hiding in the reeds. With his right hand he lays it flat and attempts to signal calm and silence. Then he spots the viscous fluid in the ground.

''Okay, fella. Seems they're looking for you...you're hurt too... ''The combination of shooters and the prideful halfling gives him an idea of their intent and how the eyes next to him are involved. He's glad the party's not interested in the camp, but the detective just isn't sure into what kind of jackpot he's just landed. He looks back to the pair of eyes as he hunkers down further, trying to convey to the unseen being that he has no intentions other than staying hidden. Okay, mate, let's you and me be friends, eh?

That done, he veeery slowly draws forth his wand of clw and allows the creature to see it. Now, a little more bonding here... nothing says 'I'm friendly' like a good healing... He expends a charge of the item for the creature's benefit.Assuming the use of which doesn't cause bright flashing lights and sch. If it does he holds off.

Hoping his little magical influence helps, he puts away the wand then looks to the woman leading the party and focuses on her mind. ''Okay, my dear, let's see if you might want to just keep going on another direction... ''Corresponding with the direction she's already going into, Bacarov waggles his hand low in silent rhythm and plants the thought that her quarry has fled across the river away from their location.

GM
(Post for Sebastian Bacarov only)

Looking at the group more carefully, you begin to put together an idea in your head. The woman in the lead, judging from her mohawked hair and hide armor, might be Shoanti in origin, and the short one now appears to be a gnome, whose long eyebrows shoot a good six inches off the sides of his head. They look like professionals, and carry themselves with a sort of self-righteous sense of aggression that reminds you of thugs or criminals.

As you approach, the creature hiding in the brush does not seem threatened, and makes no sudden moves. As you draw your wand, you realize what it is: covered in silvery scales, with orange-red fins, it is most certainly a River Drake. There are several crossbow bolts sticking out of its flanks, and blood oozing from its nostrils. It groans quietly as your wand heals some of its wounds, and fidgets somewhat in the brush.

As your sow thoughts spell goes off, you can almost feel it fizzle as the mohawked woman shakes her head irritably."Hold," she says quietly. "Professor, these drakes know magic?"

"Unlike a 'true' dragon," the gnome says, "I highly doubt it. They are more brutes than anything else. Why do you ask?"

"Just a feeling," the woman says, then makes a quick hand gesture to the men behind her. The four of them nod, then begin to fan out, crossbows raised. The woman tightens her grip on her weapon- which you can now tell is a large hammer covered in sharp points, which the Shoanti call an Earth-breaker.

Sebastian Bacarov
(Post for GM only)

Bacarov barely resists the urge to unleash a string of expletives. Instead he keeps his mind moving. Out on the streets if you stopped thinking you died. No different here.

He grabs up a couple rocks, hefty enough that they might make noise once thrown. Then he rubs at his throat and gestures to the drake... Easy fella, stay still n' don't start thinking of me as delicious...

Maintaining his hiding place Bacarov gutturals his voice and unleashes a tirade in Infernal,"Suffer for harming those I call friend, intruders!" He immediately unleashes a spell to Daze the leader, then side arms the rocks in his hand in an angling direction away from his position and away from the camp.

GM
Although none of the figures spot Bacarov, the Shoanti woman with the Earth-breaker's face twists up and she again shakes her head, fighting off the effects of the daze spell. "Son of a- there's somebody there! Men, open fire!"

The four hunters raise their crossbows and level them in the general direction of Bacarov's voice, though luckily none of them seems to have an exact bead on the Inspector, who is still hidden in the brush next to the bleeding drake.

"Wait, wait! That was the infernal tongue!" the gnome shouts. In infernal, he says: "Well met, devil! And how are you this fine evening? I am sorry to have disturbed you and your charge. But do tell, why did you not arise to protect this creature's parents and the Academy wretches caring for them earlier in the evening? Had I known a lord of the inferno was watching over these drakes, I would certainly have taken my search elsewhere. As it stands, I fear I must beg a pardon of you, as I really do need this foul thing's innards. It surely is already on death's bed; it is yours to claim but momentarily!"

He says this in as pleasant a tone as the infernal language can muster, but you note his hand reaching for the wand at his hip as he speaks.

The shoanti woman snarls impatiently. "Flush him out!" she says, clearly not understanding anything the gnome said."Open fire!"

Nearby, at the campsite, the sound of shouting causes Windmane to begin whinnying nervously and tearing at the ground with his hooves. The sounds easily snap everyone out of their sleep.

Dramin Jodare
"Something is coming." Dramin speaks in a deadpan stupor similar to a sleeptalking man would be. Before he even thinks about the repercussions for hitting the martial artist, he knocks at Dalton. "Get up Dalton. We have company. The horse is whining far too loudly." The tone in his voice makes it clear that he does not realize what he said upon awakening; chalking it up purely to the horse.

He quickly snaps up his bow with little to no effort and decides to get up. ''At least the Armour is still floating around me. No crying over lost hours I suppose. There's plenty of time to sleep tomorrow hopefully, they best understand that.''

Sebastian Bacarov
Mr and Mrs Bacarov, we regret to inform you your son died in a swamp because he's a blithering idiot!

He grinds his teeth and looks at the drake. What little he knows of the critters he's lucky it's not taken a chunk out of him already. Then again, survival's a universal constant. You'd just as soon bite me as kiss me, but good luck fella.

Bacarov puckers up his hoop...and makes a run for it back to the camp. He tries to angle his approach in the off chance he can give his crew a broadside on the hunters.

As he bolts, he blasts his signal whistle, the clarion call of the Magnimar Watch tearing into the night. "To arms, soldiers of the Field Watch, we've found the enemy!!"

Vincent Marsh
Hearing the horse and other commotion, Marsh rolls out of his bedroll and into a crouch ready to shank someone with his bare bladed knife. He is already wearing his prized mithral shirt. Not seeing an immediate threat he quickly buckles on his blades and snatches up his sling bag and bow.

"Field Watch?! We've found the enemy?!"

"Damn it Sebastian, let me guess you've gone and got yourself in another (air quotes] situation."

"Why don'tcha just try the "Heya, it's us, the new recruits!"routine again."

Marsh decides to string and noch his bow and moves towards his buddy who is undoubtedly in a tight spot.

Dramin Jodare
Dramin looks at the man on the floor and the camp. Where would Bacarov come in from? He is unsure and decides instead to preempt some arrivals. He mutters the always ready spell that he holds dearly, "Getchani" and he feels the familiar heaviness overcome him for a sudden moment before becoming a part of him.

He is ready for any oncoming attacks for the time being. He debates dispelling the Alarm but thinks it may help to wake up the others.

Dalton the Thirsty
Dalton is awake instantly and on his feet in seconds, sword drawn noiselessly from its sheath.

Clawen Snowpaw
The calls and screams mix up with dreams and for a moment Calwen has trouble telling the one from the other. ''A tent? How did I... a, yes.'' Calwen casts a concerned look at Warshawski, not sure whether the human woman is actually a fighter. She grabs her sword and shield and lets out a sharp whistle to call for Windmane.

Warshawski
''I was firmly in the embrace of dreams when the shrieking and whistling cut through the night. I sat up, quickly, and almost slams her head into Calwen's ass.''

"F@@! me." ''I muttered angrily. Trouble was coming but I didn't know what or from where. I grabbed my bladed scarf and briefly considered my armor. Briefly. By the time I got it strapped on I'd probably have a sword through my stomach. It got left behind as I followed Calwen out of the tent.''

GM
The sound of crossbow bolts being loosed rips through the air as Bacarov makes a mad dash from cover back toward the camp. Bolts whip past him in the dark, narrowly missing as he quickly crosses near to the camp. As they pursue, the ruffians reload their weapons, and the hulking woman with the enormous hammer come running out front. "He knows about the estuary!" she cries as she pursues Bacarov. "Kill them all!"

Behind them, the gnomish "professor" struggles to keep up on his tiny legs. "Yes, yes, I fear we must!" he huffs. "Can't very well have that getting out, can we?" He draws the wand from his side, but cannot quite get a bead on Bacarov in the dark.

As he runs, Bacarov's cries and blowing on the whistle awaken everyone. Dramin, with the preternatural abilities granted him by his divination studies, senses it almost before it happens and hops up, casting his gravity bow spell.

Dalton the Thirsty
Dalton is first to act. In truth, though he would never admit it to anyone but his sensei, he had been craving the thrill of combat for weeks now. Time to put my training to use, is his last conscious thought before he focuses utterly on the now.

Moving swiftly, the monk holds on to his sword and bolts around Windmane, reaching Bacarov's position in the space of a second. Pushing himself to even greater speed, trusting to the dim light of the stars overhead, he leaps across the battlefield to place himself on the riverbanks. "You will have to get through me, I'm afraid," he comments, brandishing his curved temple sword.

Bacarov
''Estuary, huh? Bandits, illegal hunting, and willing to consort with devils...that's all I need.'' Bacarov maintains his focus, heading in a straight line now to parallel the camp. ''Now let's press the illusion we're here for these turd-burglars. Let's check their minerals.''

"Four crossbows, one wildling with an earthbreaker, one gnome caster. Northeast of base camp!" He keeps running, hoping he's bought the others time to muster. "Illegal hunting!! Banditry!! Open threat of harm to Watch Officials...JUDGMENT GUILTY! Save one for interrogation, purge those who refuse surrender!"

Warshawski
''Coming out of the tent, I heard Bacarov shouting about wildlings and gnome magicians and crossbowmen. Not that I needed him to tell me about the crossbows. The whistling sounds I heard could only be bolts flying through the air. Probably at his back. Leave it to Bacarov to wander into trouble in the middle of the night without waking one of us up to watch his back.''

''The man who taught me about investigation also taught me something about fighting. He said to fight smarter, not harder. I could see the others rushing to engage in combat. I'd rather wait to pick my target. I stepped back into the trees and sought a good hiding spot. Better to strike one decisively than to strike a dozen times and miss.''

Once I was in the trees I could see Bacarov running down the road.

"Psst! Bacarov, you moron! Over here!"

Dramin Jodare
Dramin's mind jumps between patience and recklessness. On one hand, these poachers were nothing more than mooks to be taken out, but on the other hand, he wished to show his precision and his deadly, magically enhanced bow skill.

He thinks for a minute and sees Bacarov run by and Dalton switch places. ''Well I can't let them have all the fun. Got this armour up anyway, whats the worst that can happen?'' His face is full of glee as he peers into what may be.

Vincent Marsh
Sebastian goes running through the camp, blowing his whistle and spouting nonsense, but the crew entering the camp looked like they were bent towards murderous intent. Hearing them talk out of hand about waxing the party pisses Marsh off. Years of fighting in the pits has engrained resistance to his very core.

"Alright you A-holes, ima'bout tah bring it. Pucker up! Mashers gonna give you a kiss!"

A change comes over Marsh. His nostrils flare as his chest rises taking in oxygen which enters the blood pumping through increasingly rapid beating heart. As his blood pressure stacks his already muscular physique swells with the suddenly increased blood flow.

His brows draw together as his face flashes shark eyes. His teeth clench. . . . Someone was threatening his friend. Some mook was gonna try and snuff his brother. Right in front of him.

"Naw, that s*~% ain't gonna stand."

"SOMEONE'S GONNA GET DEAD!"

Marsh smoothly transitions to Masher his mighty cold iron spiked heavy flail. The big man charges forward. The spiked head at the end of the battle worn chain is worked to resemble a leering demon face. It whistles through the air as it picks up momentum. Red enameled eyes blur into a red line circling over the head as he spins it in ever increasing velocity.

Just before reaching the hideclad warrior woman wielding the earth breaker, Vinnie throws his whole body into a spin to put even more force into the bone shattering impact he seeks to inflict on the b!&~$es face.

No one messed with one of his friends.

"NO ONE THREATENS MY PAL!"

GM
Bacarov's cries force the brigands to realize that not only are they not alone, but that their quarry's friends are heavily armed. You've successfully shaken them all for one round.

As Bacarov flees his pursuers past the camp, his friend Marsh leaps into the fray, flying into the path of the Shoanti woman and bringing his heavy flail down on her with incredible force. Masher's spiked head crashes down on the woman's shoulder with a sickening crunch, and she howls in anger and surprise- before turning her attention to Marsh and taking a swing at him with her own formidable weapon. The earth-breaker collides with Marsh's chest, delivering him a blow that nearly throws him from his feet. The woman is practically foaming at the mouth as she fights- and, in the heat of the moment, Marsh catches a glance of the strange objects dangling from her necklace... ears. Still dripping, freshly cut. The intense hatred radiating from the woman's eyes startles Marsh on some primal level, leaving him shaken for 7(!) rounds. One of the brigands drops his crossbow and draws his longsword as he approaches to support his leader, taking a swing at Marsh- who is just able to dodge out of the way.

Bacarov makes it a good distance from his enemies, ducking as another bolt flies over his head, and sees that Warshawski has taken cover in the brush nearby. She calls to him. It does not seem as if the enemies have spotted her yet.

Dramin, his arrows weighted heavily by his spell, waits until a target is in sight before firing. The arrow smacks heavily into the brigand as he steps into the light of the campfire, nearly knocking the man to the ground. He drops to his knees, letting his crossbow clatter to the ground.

As "the Professor" comes stumbling out of the brush, wand raised and ready to fire off some spell in Bacarov's direction, Dalton dashes across the field, appearing before him in a flash. "My word!" the Professor stammers, instead raising his wand and pointing it at the new arrival. In the moment that it takes for the gnome to speak his command words, Dalton sees his chance and takes a swing with his temple sword, its enchanted blade taking a chunk out of the Professor's unprotected flank. The Professor fires off a jet of flame from his wand, but Dalton, with an eagle's grace, twists his body out of the way in time, not even singed by the magical flames. Another of the brigands drops his crossbow, draws a sword, and approaches to attack the monk, but Dalton sees the attack coming a mile away and easily catches the incoming blade with his own, turning it away like a child's toy.

Sebastian Bacarov
Bacarov glances Warshawski's way but shakes his head. ''Sorry, kiddo. Can't leave my friend... ''He scans the situation, seeing the woman fly into a bloodthirsty froth and realizes she might be more susceptible to his influence.

Then he sets to coordinating the battle... "Snowpaw, charge the southernmost! Dalton, stay on the gnome, knock him out if you can, he's a prime suspect!" Across the way, the kid lands a devastating shot in one of the hunters trying to close on Marsh. "Dramin, well done, now finish your target, clear Marsh's flank!" Now, let's hope they listen...

"Marsh! Press towards her! Finish her off you meathead!" C'mon, brother, fight thru it and I'll be right there to patch you up.

Bacarov readies his wand, grits his teeth, then after Calwen makes her attack on the southern man, he bursts forward to get behind and to the left of Marsh.

Dramin Jodare
Dramin sees the man fall beneath his shot, but it is just a shot too little. ''Dammit. How utterly embarrassing.'' His ears ring with Bacarov's words and he quickly peers at Marsh, seeing the man take a nasty blow and notices the worry in his eyes. He may be a lout but he is still my coworker.

He looks at the man who is on his knees and with no sympathy in his eyes fires a final focused shot into the man from the softcover of the horse and the dark.

"Elf. Find me some more targets to strike in this melee, I need some clear sight amongst the dark, just drop it when you get there!" He hands her some burning wood from the flame and quickly adopts his firing stance as if nothing changed.

Warshawski
''I growled with annoyance. Bacarov could stand to fight smarter. He was putting himself right in the middle of everyone's range and he was an obvious weak target compared to Marsh. Someone needed to cover his back. I stepped out of my hiding place and rushed forward, scarf at the ready, so he and I were back to back.''

"You're gonna get me killed, moron." I growled.

Sebastian Bacarov
Sebastian grins over his shoulder. He'd not been sure which way she'd wanted to play it; hop out and hobble one from escaping south or repositioning to flank. But hearing her grouse behind him he couldn't help but smile. "Hey, you're the one following me thru the door. Like that time we busted Fipps n' Hem." He watches with satisfaction as Dramin downs his target. "Of course I nearly got my arm chewed off by their dog..."

Calwen Snowpaw
Despite the problem of neither having a hand free nor a saddle to help Calwen climbs on Windmanes back, but doesn't manage that as smoothly as she hoped. She leads him into the fray. She does feel a little estranged by an investigator spewing tactical commands at a knight, unfortunately she needs to get to the front line in order to help Marsh, and that means she needs to get past the sole bandit. Hopefully it won't be too late for Marsh.

Windmane makes a single giant leap onto the target, getting ready to attack. "I need to get this one out of the way. And fast! Marsh, let's time our attacks, trust me!"

Vincent Marsh
Marsh takes the hit. He is suprised by the force of the massive blow. Experience from fighting in the pits told him he needed to finish this fight fast.

"Better drop her quick and end her rage."

"F+%*in b~$$$! Say goodnight, it's dirt nap time!"

"You sons of b!&&+es are next! You attacked the wrong campsite a*!%@*~s! And now you're gonna die unless you throw down your weapons right now. That's your only chance. Just test me! Please test me."

GM
As the fighting at the edge of the firelight escalates, Bacarov attempts once more to daze the hulking Shoanti woman with his spell, but she again fights through it, continuing to swing her earth-breaker at Marsh- who, despite being rattled by her insane glare, is matching her blow-for-blow. Bacarov calls out orders to his comrades and advances on the combat. Warshawski begrudgingly leaves her cover and moves up behind Bacarov, keeping pace with him as they approach the melee.

Dramin coolly surveys the scene, taking a brief moment to identify the spell being cast by the gnomish "Professor's" wand:

He then looses another arrow into the Brigand he had already wounded. The projectile finds a home in the man's skull with enough force to send him tumbling head-over-heels.

Calwen manages to mount Windmane bare-back in the heat of the fight, and with bastard sword in one hand and shield on the other, she guides her brave mount into battle, leaping next to one of the encroaching brigands, keeping the villains from swarming Marsh. The sight of the great beast certainly gains the nearest brigand's attention. Unfortunately, the brigand's gut instinct is to take a swing at her with his longsword. Calwen tries to guard against the attack, but it comes too suddenly, and the brigand carves a bloody trench into her unprotected leg, just below the knee.

A few feet away, Vincent Marsh is struggling for his life as both the enraged Shoanti and another of the brigands attack him. Seeing a moment's opportunity, he ducks beneath the brigand's blade, narrowly avoiding another wound, and swings his heavy flail up into the Shoanti woman's chin, sending a thick string of blood flashing through the air. The Shoanti gurgles in pain and stumbles back, unable to keep her balance, and collapses.

And a few feet further away, near the brush, Dalton ducks and weaves with the sort of grace only a monk can muster, easily evading the last of the brigands' clumsy swings even as the flames from the Professor's earlier spell lick at his cloak, singing him. Focusing on the task at hand and hearing Bacarov's orders, he turns to the gnome, whose eyes widen in realization of what is coming. Dalton whips into a flurry of swings with his temple sword, the first swing going wide but the second slashing through the gnome's unarmored shoulder and sending him spinning. With a wheeze of agony, the gnome drops his wand and hits the ground, curling into a ball.

Dalton the Thirsty
Dalton allows himself a small smile of satisfaction as he easily evades the gnome's spell and knocks him out. Humility in victory, the words of his sensei ring in his head, and the smile is replaced with focused calm. He turns to the brigand that remains.

Seeing that his allies seem to have the situation in hand, Dalton considers the bloodthirsty brigand in front of him calmly. "Make peace with your gods."

Sebastian Bacarov
It takes only seconds for the tide of the battle to shift. Like the nights of interrogation when he sees a suspect's eyes change, when Bacarov knows they've got the right man.

With the big Shoanti hitting the dirt bloody, he signals Warshawski that he's going right. If he can press the elf's target, then he can free get up in case any of the bad guys tries to rabbit.

He goes with his short sword and sweeps right to hem in the one who just bled Calwen. A flock of his wrist and his blade lashes almost ineffectual against the criminal. Bacarov covers over his disappointment with a warning. "Drop the weapon, mate, and say sorry to the Knight for mussing the armor. You might get out of this alive."

Calwen Snowpaw
"Aghh!" Calwen calls out but she is no stranger to the wound in battle. She lets Windmane climb up and smash down on the villain while she lets her bastard sword go down alongside his neck.

"For the White Rose!" Calwen calls out. Her attack wasn't perfect and it wasn't looking all too good, but at least she made her entry. Those bandits should be crushed and if they are going to plead for mercy, they better do it quickly and unmisunderstandably.

Dramin Jodare
Dramin looks at the next bandit. You really shouldn't have wrecked my sleep schedule, this is wretched for me.

Vincent Marsh
"Too late Bacarov, they made their choice. Now they're gonna die. Startin with their leader. They were givin a chance. More than they were gonna give you."

"Filthy ear takin b@~*+'s days of collectin are at an end!"

"BOOO-YAAAAAAA!!!!"

"Ohhh ho ho! See her head spatter!? You two still set on joinin her?! Or you gonna try and run? Cause I'm ready!"

Warshawski
''I watched as the poor woman's head literally exploded under the force of Marsh's hit. I tried to keep my lunch down.''

"Bacarov, he's murdering people now." I grabbed Bacarov by the shoulder. "Even if we're not in the city, we're still officers of the law. We can't let him kill criminals who aren't a threat anymore!"

''I didn't wait for an answer. I moved forward and swung my scarf, attempting to wrap it around Marsh's weapon and yank it from his hand.''

Before someone else died.

Dramin Jodare
Dramin eyes the large man as he completely crushes the woman underneath the weight of his weapon. His brows move up only a little but not from the blow, but because the reaction from Warshawski is much more interesting to him. To go so far as to attempt an attack on her own comrade was not only insane, but illogical at this point in time. All it took was a single knife in the back and she would drop. Now Dramin didn't care for the loss of life here with the bandits, but he did care if she got her own face annihilated by the much bigger man.

She was much more interesting alive. He was too far to do anything. No matter then.

Vincent Marsh
Marsh sees Warshawski coming from out of the corner of his eye. He lashes out with Masher having no intent of allowing himself to idly be disarmed in the middle of combat.

"I f%++in knew you were a dirty traitor Warshawski! I knew Bakarov misplaced his trust in you! Alright you want me serve up a two for one special on your ass!? Fine with me!"

"Now I am actually pissed!"

"Sure, now you show your true colors. Finally done hiding in the bushes while the rest of us fight? You ready to be the spirit floatin around the room? Fine with me cause I won't see you hangin around me!"

Sebastian Bacarov
Bacarov sees it out of the corner of his eye, Marsh's savagery unleashed upon the prone criminal. Judging by the lucky charms on the Shoanti's neck, she'd have given no quarter ekther. It's the fine line he's always walked. His line of work, treading in the bloody footprints of killers, there's been more than one time he'd nearly lost his mind with a suspect. There was one, a real scag named Harkin who'd spent his adolescence learning his trade...then achieving adulthood by putting it into practice with people.

Bacarov had had the benefit of a fellow officer to pull him away. As Warshawski charges forward and wraps her scarf around Marsh's weapon, he supposes she's the one.

''But Vinnie won't see it that way. I hadn't thought I'd needed to remind him we still served the law on this outing.'' He thought about Harkin, how his partner at the time had had to pull Bacarov off of him. No, we always need reminders...

And soon enough, Bacarov is proven right.

"Those we love still look down on us, Vinnie!!! We conduct ourselves accordingly" Bacarov reaches deep into the field guide, feels his chest ache because he knows from where Marsh's rage comes. He tries to keep his opponent in front of him but continues yelling because now he's trying to save Warshawski. "MARSH, WE'RE OFFICERS OF THE LAW, NOT MURDERERS!! FOR THE LOVE OF ABADAR STAND DOWN!!!"

Dalton the Thirsty
Dalton gazes down at the bandit he slew dispassionately. Kneeling and slicing off a piece of the bandit's leggings, he uses the dirty cloth to wipe down his blade of the blood.

He watches the two allies turn on one another. They've been sniping at one another since before we left Magnimar, he says to himself. ''If they both survive, they may be able to reconcile. From what I've seen, though, they're both stubborn enough to kill each other if their blood is up. Especially Marsh. I wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of THAT thing.'' He shakes his head as he looks at Marsh's weapon, dripping with gore.

Dalton rises from his kneeling position and keeps his sword hanging lightly in one palm. He recalls a sad memory from his former adventuring group, the first one he traveled with. There had been infighting there as well, a disagreement over which share of the loot was theirs. That, too, had ended in blood, and it was almost his. After almost having been killed himself trying to intercede, he resolved to let other people settle their disagreements personally.

He turns his attention to the lone surviving bandit, prepared to run him down if he tries to seize this opportunity to escape.

GM
Not missing a beat after taking down the so-called Professor, Dalton turns to his other attacker. Two quick sweeps of temple sword and the brigand drops, bleeding and severely wounded.

Upon seeing Calwen wounded, Bacarov moves in to help, but his attack barely breaks through the brigand's jerkin. Not that it matters- as Windmane, seemingly enraged that his partner has been injured, unleashes equine hell on the brigand, clobbering the man into unconsciousness with his hooves. The parting swipe from Calwen's sword is a mere formality at this point, as the brigand is already on his way down.

Dramin, meanwhile, looses another arrow at the lone remaining bandit- the one whom had attempted to team up with the Shoanti against Marsh. The shot goes wide and flies over the brigand's shoulder, but considering the way the tide of battle has turned, it has just about the same effect as if it had sunk itself into his stomach.

This, of course, is the point at which the craziness begins, when Marsh makes the hard call to execute the Shoanti barbarian before she could get her second wind. The result leaves Marsh dripping with blood, which only serves to make his subsequent cries even more unsettling.

That is probably why Warshawski feels it necessary to remove his weapon for the time being, as no doubt the final remaining brigand- who has already tossed his sword to the ground- will be the next to face his wrath. Warshawski's scarf whips through the air and hooks around Marsh's weapon, and pulls it from his hands while he rants. Not that this comes even close to calming the man- in fact, it seems to send him into a murderous rage that rivals that shown by his recently felled opponent.

Calwen Snowpaw
Calwen glanced over to the argument between Warshawski and Vincent. This was not the time for this. "Let us address the the situation at hand before it eludes our grasp. We are bound for life and death in this battle, for the love of Shelyn." She did not really know a lot of Abadar, but she cannot remember having anyone called upon His love before. "Let your argument rest for now and recognize your friends and your foes."

She let Windmane step to the last remaining attacker and pointed her sword at him. "Hands behind your head and on your knees. In that order. Don't even dare to look upon your sword." The sword was on the ground next to him where he dropped it. "Comply and you shall not be harmed, prisoner." The glare in her eyes and the blade pointed at him made perfectly clear what would happen if he did not comply.

Without taking her eyes off him she added to her companions: "Bind him, please. I have some healing potions in our tent, but I am unable to get off my horse without letting my guard down."

Dalton the Thirsty
Dalton hefts the gnome professor by the back of his shirt and looks him over to ensure that he's unconscious but stable. Seeming satisfied that he won't be bleeding out, Dalton shakes the gnome in the direction of his party members. "I got the spellcaster subdued here," he calls, and adds in a quieter voice, "Whenever you're finished with each other..."

Sebastian Bacarov
Bacarov pulls his manacles and binds the unconscious bandit before him, eyes never leaving the confluence of Marsh and Warshawski. When Dalton announces the condition of the gnome he calls over, "Better wrap something about his eyes and gag him too. Don't want him waking up and flim-flamming us while we sort this out. I'll be there shortly to add some healing. We need to question him..." He still watches the two, concern welling in him like a volcano.

That done he makes his way forward to the bind the remaining bandit praying that his words to Marsh had made a difference. "You're clear, Lady Knight." He looks upwards to Calwen, a trickle of blood coming from where the pummeled bandit had hit her. He draws forth his wand and taps it gently to her side.

Vincent Marsh
Seeing the bladed scarf wrap around Mashers chain and catch between the links, Marsh knows Warshawski has removed the weapon from play. As the shaft wrenches from his hands, they go to his belt and he pulls out his longsword in a two handed grip. His eyes set on Warshawski's he begins to circle to her left causing her to pivot.

"Your move Warshwski. You know I could finish you right now, but I'm gonna let you choose how this plays out. I'm gonna let you take the first strike if you want it. Show Sebastian your true colors."

"Are you going to disarm me or go for blood?"

Dalton the Thirsty
Dalton's mouth turns down and his eyes widen in surprise. "Think about it, Vinnie," he calls out. "If Warshawski was a traitor and wanted you dead, don't you think she could've killed you in your sleep? Do you really think her master plan was to wait until we had already won the fight to try and attack you? When you were fully awake, and your blood was up? Do you think she's that stupid?"

The monk quickly shuts his mouth, realizing he has said more at once than he has the entire time he's been with the others. He recalls the mantra of his sensei, Serenity, peace, equanimity, but it takes longer than he'd like.

Vincent Marsh
"Good question Dalton. She's intelligent and likes people to know it, but she's got s@!# for brains when it comes to common sense. She's never lived in the twists or shanties. Everything's black and white for her, just like her precious tax code."

"Maybe she's too removed from a real fight that she couldn't see that I had knocked the barbarian down, but not out. She's obviously never been in a pit fight and seen someone get their second wind. Hell I've even had to take an axe for this b#+&# before."

"If the Shoanti was downed why would I focus on her and not the other brigand so he didn't gut me. If she was on my side she should have tried to disarm him, but she didn't did she? Nope, she disarms me givin this guy a chance to stab me defenseless."

"She didn't want to let our elven knight friend here camp out with us let alone have her weapon available, then she invites her into her tent. . . Then when the fights on she tries to separate off Sebastian, leavin only a few of us to fight. Now she wants to keep all the bandits alive. . ."

"You tell me Dalton. How smart or stupid is she?"

Calwen Snowpaw
"Thank you, Sebastian" she says and nods calmly as she drops her shield and sword left and right from Windmane to get her hands free. The she slips off Windmane. She disappears in the tent and gets a healing potion out. In elven she whispers into the horse's ear: "You did great, handsome, what would I do without you."

She quickly gets a healing potion. She has one she bought on character creation and she took the two from Armand's place Then she steps up to Marsh. "As far as I am concerned you fought bravely and we all owe you our lives, for throwing yourself right in the midst of it and coming out on top. I thank you, too, Vincent. Whether or not she was still a threat was entirely your call to make because it was your life that was on the line." She tries to step between Marsh and Warshawski, giving the latter a smile. "The reality of battle, in all its cruelty and dismissive waste of what is most precious, life itself, is hard to bear and yet it is the life we chose. But not everyone did. Warshawski is not a traitor, but following her kind heart. Let me talk to her, will you? For now we need to try and save some lives and see what is behind all this."

Sebastian Bacarov
"I called for prisoners too," Bacarov responds slowly and joins the elf in her efforts. "You know me well enough that when I call for a 'purge', it's a Tower's bluff. I needed the creeps intimidated. You know I would never condone unnecessary death." He tries to keep his calm but he's finding the situation frustrated by his own doing.

He presses himself between the two, physically barring contact as best he can. "None of you know what I heard when I stumbled on these guys. They've got a larger operation that needs looking into, so I drew them out and darted for the Southside of the camp." He points to the south. "My tactic? Get them on our periphery, get loud to wake you guys up, then press across them like a sudden tide."

"Warshawski, if I read it right, wanted to lay it low south of the battle to scoop up runners. But I saw that hit you took and moved back in to patch you up. She backed my play without armor." He points to where they'd been at the time."Yeah we're not pit fighters. So when we saw you pound the barbie on the ground it looked really ugly. I can't say my instincts wouldn't have led me there too if I hadn't been flanking with the Knight here."

He's not facing one or the other, still holding up his hands and moving to stay between them. "What say we cool things off a bit, put away the hurtin' tools and find out why these guys were hunting a drake and wanted to keep it secret?"

Dalton the Thirsty
The monk nods in the direction of the brigand, who is bound, gagged, and (probably) s+@*ting his pants. "He had already tossed his sword to the ground. It is possible that she trusted to your ability not to get stabbed by him,even without your flail," is his reply.

"You may question her common sense, or her logic in the heat of battle, but I do not think her motives should be in doubt."

Warshawski
''I stared into Marsh's eyes and I saw it. The same thing I saw in too many men and women who gained power and found justification to rob. To steal. To murder. I saw he'd happily put me down without a second thought if I put myself into that neat little box he considered 'enemy'. With no regard for life or dignity.''

''I turned away from him. If he struck me from behind I wouldn't be surprised. But I was done with him.''

I'm making an assumption here but I believe it is a right one. Since Ravenmoor pays Magnimar taxes that makes this Magnimar territory. Therefore, Bacarov and I have (technically) juristiction and legal duty.

"He knocked down a woman in combat and instead of subduing her so she could be properly arrested, he pulped her head and screamed in joy." I met Bacarov's eyes. "There's no cooling off. There's no "let's make nice". He murdered someone. Are you going to do your duty and arrest him, Bacarov? Or do I have to do your job for you?"

Dalton the Thirsty
"You're making conflict where there needn't be, Warshawski," Dalton comments in a warning tone, narrowing his eyes. Inwardly, he curses his outburst, but it's too late to shut up now. Let the thought be spoken, once it is uttered, he was taught. "We aren't in Magnimar, and they attacked us first. I'm a foreigner, but I presume your laws don't care if he happened to enjoy his act of self-defense."

Calwen Snowpaw
Calwen blinked twice in surprise. "Will you give me the opportunity to share a few words in private with you in private, Warshawski? I admire your conviction and am not trying to compromise you, I just would like to present you with my perspective, the perspective of a knight and warrior, and what you so with it would remain up to you."

GM
The lone remaining brigand, despite having surrendered, shakes his head and snickers. "And I thought my group was dysfunctional," he mumbles, trying not to let his eyes drift to the battered bodies of his fellows as he waits on his knees, hands behind his head.

Vincent Marsh
Gotta save it for when it matters.

Vinnie makes no move that appears to be aggressive towards the elf or Bacarov, but his emotions about Warshawski are still quite evident.

"Warshawski you talk about duty and bein an officer, but are you so bullheaded you can't even see a masterful game of good cop bad cop when you see one?!"

"These boys here (indicating the dead and downed enemy party) got fired up to kill us. They were emboldened when the b@#&& with the huge hammer just about busted my balls with that first hit. Seein her go down broke their warrior spirit, sent a message---and I wasn't playin. You fight me you're gonna die. You may think a lot of things about me, but I ain't no cold blooded killer. . . I demonstrate what I can do, it makes slappy here (indicating the subdued bandit) want to surrender and I mean right now and real bad. So who does he choose?---Obviously to run to good cop Sebastian to give up. This is like first week academy Stuff."

He points a finger at the cuffed bandit.

"No one asked for your opinion maggot! Keep outta this!"

Vinnie nods his blocky chin towards the monk.

"An' I appreciate what it is you are tryin to do Dalton, but you know damn well how things can go in a fight. Heck if I was in that chick's shoes I woulda tried to hail mary for a crit. She had nothing to lose."

He takes and quaffs the offered potion.

"Ey, thanks. <<>> Ahhhh!"

Looking over and around those in front of him he sees the coward turning her back and pouting.

"And you know what Warshawski . . . I don't feel like lettin you arrest me today. So how about it? Maybe you should take your prisoners here---heal em up---feed em your good food---march em back to town by yourself---sing some songs and s%&~ like that. Do some team building and trust exercises along the way before droppin em off at the Hall of Justice---where they know they'll be hanged. I am sure they won't try to escape or kill you or anythin. You know? Cause you're just following regulations."

Dalton the Thirsty
Dalton nods when Vinnie addresses him, making it clear that he agrees with the burly man's logic, if not his delivery.

Sebastian Bacarov
Bacarov sighs, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment then calling after Warshawski. "You speak to our duty correctly. By rights and law we have jurisdiction. But we also have rule over construction and hunting and observance of city celebrations. To be honest I don't know one thing about any of those." He waves about to the carnage and it's clear in his eyes he wishes it'd gone another way. "But guess what, I don't. So I've got to trust the people I've brought on to observe, judge and adjudicate the situation."

"I've heard Marsh's testimony, as calloused as it was, and will stand as character witness based on his past and the events viewed by witnesses here. His experience weighs into his on scene judgment." He dry washes his face, but his next words are weighted with passion. "I, Sebastian Giuseppe Bacarov, Inspector of the City Watch, lay my freedom forfeit upon lack of final trial and judgment in this case. Due process and trial to be observed and conducted by the City's courts upon return to Magnimar. Lacking Vincent Marsh's presence due to death on the field or absence from trial, I will submit myself." He waves to the others. "So witnessed by those duly deputized to this official city inquiry into Ravenmoor."

He turns to Marsh and holds up the wand of healing.

"Now if you'll excuse me, I've got prisoners to question. My money is on them knowing more about what what the hells is happening in this forest than us." He looks about at the others. "At this point I don't give two shakes of an adder's tail what you think will happen to those still alive." He points to all of the prisoners then to himself. "They are my responsibility and I will see them to Ravenmoor for trial." He pulls a handkerchief from his belt and uses it to gag the final prisoner. "And if those stirge humpers don't have a judge, I'll buy a cart and mule and haul them back to Magnimar. Yes, a hanging might very well be in their future, but I want some information from them and I don't have the judgment for executions. What I do know, is the more they tell me, the less likely the gibbet calls."

To Marsh he says finally, "Yeah, these guys will try and kill me in my sleep given the chance. But we're not in combat now, they're bound too. What I do now determines the sort of man I am. That won't be determined by these louts or by those who do or don't think the law applies. It'll be determined by me."

Through with the conversation whether it continues or not, Bacarov moves over to the gnome and sees to his wounds. The little magic-user was the most important prisoner of the lot.

Dramin Jodare
Much like his weapon of choice, the arcane fighter hangs back and sees the situation. He has been quiet for quite some time, and has since taken the entire situation in, reveling in the dynamics and the sheer difference of personalities at work here.

This is worse than a fleshwork golem, made from parts of different species and creatures. He shakes his head and walks back to grab his falchion, hoping that when he returns there may be less tension in the air. I really have no time for this.

He was very wrong.

Upon returning the blaze of passion in the air makes a malik seem cool in comparison. After a few deep breaths he decides that he must act or risk having to go to Ravenmoor alone, as his own mind will not allow him a moment's rest until he exposes the intrigue within. Bacarov was making bold claims, Marsh was ready to slay Warshawski who was ready to arrest and risk letting a town go free.

Now whats the best way to get everyone's attention?

Dramin walks over to the unconscious gnome and Bacarov and gives the coolheaded detective a smile. In a flash he grabs one of the bodies on the floor and tosses it over the Alarm, in the sudden noise that follows he grabs the Wand of Burning Hands from the gnome then dispels the sound. "This is mine now. You people argue far too much, and I was -- AM, still very tired. There is a town nearby that has more than enough potential killing in it, why must we do their work for them?" For once the words are actually not devoid of emotion, the man IS tired and he seems to have human feelings underneath the apathetic exterior.

"It appears that as history shows, if you must get a job done you have to call a slinger in. Move over Bacarov, its late and these people have valuable information to take." He emphasizes the word 'take'. "If its any consolation Warshawski I won't crush anyone; I may shatter their mind however, but thankfully there is no gore to make you swoon and potentially bungle a dangerous situation with a trained killer." He looks at the dead Shoanti and then glares at the prisoner.

Warshawski
''I did my best to ignore Marsh entirely. I kept my back to him and refused to let his crap pierce my shell. He wasn't important here. What mattered was my job. And Bacarov's.''

''Bacarov's oath pricked my rage and let out the air. It wasn't the perfect solution but it was probably the best solution that could be had under these circumstances.''

"Right." ''I wrapped my scarf around my waist and followed Bacarov. This was a matter of law. Since he didn't have an actual partner here, I'd have to step in and do the job.''

''As I passed Calwen I nodded to her. I could appreciate she had a point of view but didn't just try to tell me my job or that I was making a mistake. The monk? He could go hang right now. He wasn't law enforcement. He didn't know.''

''As for the wizard? I didn't bother to hold my tongue.''

"You're going to back the f+@& off, you condescending pisspot, and let Bacarov and I do a job we're trained in. Got it?"

''Having said my piece, I ignored him and turned to Bacarov. At least someone here was an actual professional.''

"You get them to talk. I'll figure out if they're telling the truth." I told Bacarov as I stood near him while he fussed over the gnome. "Same as that time in Underbridge."

Sebastian Bacarov
''Oh, kid, why didn't you just stay out of it. ''He shakes his head. "No, Dramin. If I require assistance in questioning the prisoners, I'll ask for it." He gestures back towards the tents."Stake your claim on the wand if it helps smooth your ego, but these prisoners are mine. Go and collect your rest while we handle this."

He glances to Warshawski and then over to Marsh. His eyes are calm but the big warrior knows him well enough to see more. Please, brother, seek your peace...

To the investigator he nods, "Right, *sigh* just like Underbridge."

Dramin Jodare
Dramin laughs at the medium. "Oh please, regale me with more stories of how hardboiled you are and how many men have fallen under your interrogation techniques." He begins to walk back, twirling the wand in plain sight. "If you need help, don't be afraid to ask this condescending man. He would be more than happy to show you the proper way to make someone scream. Its all very elementary and textbook, everyone breaks the same way."

Upon passing by Bacarov he mutters something quietly.

Whispered to Bacarov: "The sleep was no concern with my training. You are a very competent watchman and you stood your ground. Good hunting."

GM
With some difficulty, the gnome referred to as the Professor by his outlaw comrades is roused from unconsciousness. His face twists in pain and he fidgets nervously as he realizes the depth of his situation. "Oh me oh my," he utters. "These ruffians- they pushed me to this, you see- manipulated me- I wanted no part in it, you see, but I needed money desperately and I have- children! I have five children to feed, you see! So, as you might imagine, I had no choice in the matter. Of course there would be collateral damage! As bandits, I am sure you are all well aware that such things are sometimes unavoidable- the fact that they were from the Twilight Academy was of course a mere coincidence and had nothing to do with my expulsion from there- truly unfortunate, those poor souls- but really, what were first-and-second-year students doing out in a field study? Really, you can understand where I am coming from, can't you, chaps?" He squeezes all of this out in a single breath, without provocation. "Money! Thousands upon thousands of gold pieces. I can promise you all a cut. I have a buyer in Riddleport who pays handsomely for those glands! I'll even be the big man and take a hit on the cut. Hells, you can have all of the blasted GP for all I care! Just don't hurt me...!"

To Warshawski: Now that the heat of battle has faded and exhaustion begins to set in, your spirit-sense begins to tingle once more. A number of specters seem to float about over the Professor's soldiers- not the least of whom is the Shoanti who was only just killed, whose ghostly image glares hatefully and accusingly at the Professor- practically begging for justice. It would seem that this gnome has led more than just this band of brigands to their deaths.

Sebastian Bacarov
"Try again, slap head. You forget, I've been stalking you since the hunt began. Even heard your 'directives'." Bacarov sniffs and continues. "Tell us again your real part in this. Start with the field study, end where you tell us about the estuary."

He keeps Warshawski on his peripheral to glean whatever information she's gathering. Like hints on what pressure point to press... He pours himself into the work, a balm for the tension only moments before.

Vincent Marsh
"What a bunch of malarkey. <<>> Final trial an all that."

"Get one thing straight Warshawski. We aren't in the city anymore sweetheart. Sebastian's got a home and a family and I'll be gods dammed if there isn't somethin---anythin---I won't do to see that he makes it back there."

Marsh starts to walk off and turns around still red faced.

"And get a first name!!!"

Marsh collects his flail and starts rubbing and sopping the gore off it with a handful of leaves and earth.

"Boy oh boy, do I hope those guys try an run. . . muffled muffled . . . heads clean off and s~!& down their throats . . . muffled muffled . . . rip that wizards fingers off."

Sebastian Bacarov
Bacarov looks over to Warshawski after Marsh's comments, not saying anything but letting his look carry the message. Let it go...we've got a job to do.

He can't look back, not in front of the gnome, but Bacarov knew what it takes for Marsh to assume calm. The stains of violence on the man's soul were not his own doing, but Sebastian wanted nothing more than to ensure the man didn't add to them.

Dramin Jodare
Upon hearing Bacarov start talking about a field study, the wizard stops in his tracks just as Marsh stomps on off. He decides to get a closer eavesdropping position by reclaiming some arrows, taking his time to examine the heads and shaft to see if they are still usable.

Warshawski
''It was time to do the job. Everything else went into the back of my head while I focused on the task at hand. This gnome and his ugly words and obvious lies. I could see them, several spirits and all of them thirsting for justice. My throat caught for a moment as I saw the face of Marsh's victim, her head caved in and her brains dribbling from the cracks. I felt the heat rise in my cheeks. I felt the energy draining out of me. It happens, sometimes. The sheer number of souls present after a battle sucked at my soul. The begging and pleading for justice... hell, just to be recognized as being someone it ate at the core of my being.''

''The headache was going to be intense. I stood up and stalked around the gnome. I needed to keep my head in the game. When I was behind Bacarov I motioned at the gnome and held up my fingers, giving him a count of the number of souls that haunted the bastard. Then I focused on the ugly little piece of work himself. I began searching with my eyes, looking for clues. Hints of who he was, what he'd done, where he'd been. Anything to help us.''

In Gnome: "The dead cling to you like flies, slap head." I growled in the native tongue of the gnomes. "I suggest you tell the truth before they eat your soul."

Vincent Marsh
"Dalton. You and the elf here are probably the least likely to backstab me. I'm bettin you're a lot better at sneakin around than an armored knight---So---let's get Calwen suited up and then you and I can go for a look around."

"That necklace of ears looks a bit fresh for my liking. I think we need to find out where they came from and from whom."

"Dramin, when yer done listenin in, see if any of those wastes of skin have any other magic junk on em, but you can't just keep it all. We gotta divy it up fair and to who can use it best."

Dramin Jodare
Dramin grins when Marsh talks to him like that. "Of course. I can make some detects and pat them down for gear. If it is magical you will get a fair appraise from me. I may be a condescending man, but I am professional and I do have my own standards to follow. Though, you have to bear with me for fifteen minutes while I prepare some simple spells for the day." He speaks genuinely regarding his intentions.

"Functionality over all; I am reasonable. I have no use for a great maul or a saddle as much as you do not need a spellbook. However if we find anything that is beyond my scope and is too peculiar and unsettling, I would like to have a go doing a more detailed analysis before we hand it off. I know you don't speak for everyone but all we need is for a ring to be linked to another causing an easy scry, or enchanted explosives, or even worse petrification." He tries his best to hide the fact that many of these things are outside his ability, but speaks with a scholarly tone to feign confidence.

Dramin heads back to his tent to prepare some spells for the day once Bacarov is done and his arrows are collected.

Dalton the Thirsty
Dalton merely shrugs at Vinnie. "I'm glad to appear trustworthy. I certainly have no intentions regarding the stabbing of backs." he follows the big fighter. "What are we looking for exactly?"

Vincent Marsh
"We are gonna pick up their trail. I'm bettin their tracks will match the ones I found last night. We can follow them back to their estuary or whatever their lair is . . ."

Marsh pauses.

"Hummm, hey Dramin. You speak draconic right?"

Dramin Jodare
"Yes I do. And if you allow me a bit of time, I can understand every other tongue as well." He is a little irritated, but flattered that Marsh noticed his use of tongue earlier. He turns with interest. "Why?"

Vincent Marsh
"Because it means you can talk Drake then. Sebastian said they were huntin one. These hills and rivers are thick with em."

Dramin Jodare
"Assuming it is intelligent that shouldn't be an issue. Though I must say, Draconic is much more...complex than just the screams of a whelp. It may speak depending on its age, though it definitely doesn't hurt. I have been meaning to use it more often after all."

He flourishes his hand toward the larger Marsh.

"If you wish to leave now show me the way, these bodies will remain dead; they aren't going anywhere nor is their gear. Though if it gets rough, I have no spells at the ready." He grabs both the bow and the falchion tight."So lets try to avoid a confrontation if possible."

Vincent Marsh
"Heh heh heh, confrontation is inevitable."

GM
To Sebastian and Warshawski:

Well, you don't have to work hard to realize that he's lying about a few things. He probably doesn't have a family to provide for (especially considering how gnomes seldom maintain "normal" family dynamics in the first place), and he was certainly not coerced into his actions by the other brigands; if anything, you get the impression that he was the mastermind behind all this.

The gnome seems confused about how much you actually know; at this juncture, he seems prepared to take your word for it.

While the gnome certainly seems to have other equipment available- you take particular note of his dagger and the gleaming silver bracelets around his wrists- he's clearly in no shape to try and pull anything.

To everyone:

The gnome gulps as he realizes that Warshawski understands gnomish, and his pink face pales. "Well, then," he grumbles, "I suppose the proper course of action would be to start at the beginning. I was once a member of the draconic research department of Galduria's Twilight Academy. The blasted fools gave me the boot some decade back, but I've never lost my interest in the... financial potential of the field. I caught wind that the Academy has been working on the domestication of River Drakes, being one of the less-dangerous varieties... but the fools seem to have forgotten that the entire point of raising the blasted things was to harvest organs and vital fluids from the creatures, not turn them into smiling housepets! Do you have any idea what a River Drake's heart, stomache, scales, or mucus glands are worth on the black market in Riddleport? A grand fortune, you know! And then the fools went and set up a field research facility- the 'estuary,' they called it- in which a family of these so-called domesticated drakes could be studied in something resembling their natural habitat." He sighs, allowing you time to piece together he and the brigands' role in this. "I didn't know there would be students so young participating in the study. Nor did I know our exiled Shoanti was quite so bloodthirsty. I will not confess to being a man of many scruples, but there is a difference between slaughtering dragons and the murder of mostly-helpless Academy initiates. The poor fools begged for their lives, but she murdered them completely against my orders and took their ears. I had to distract myself in the process of removing glands from the adult drakes just to drown out their screams..." He shudders a bit, though you suspect he has embellished the motion a bit to earn your sympathy. "The young one escaped and fled down the river. We were going after it when we spotted your campsite. If only you hadn't been around... I could have bathed in coin. Tell me, officers, what will you do with me now? I believe I deserve a fair trial."

Dalton the Thirsty
The monk approaches Marsh. "Vinnie, I don't think I'll be able to spot tracks in this darkness. We should wait till sunrise to track the drake."

Calwen Snowpaw
While the interrogation of the prisoner started, Calwen suited up and got her gear ready. Her leg, where the blow hit her was still seriously bruised, but at least she wasn't bleeding any more since Sebastian healed her. The fighting within the group concerned her and she wished she knew how to make the humans more tolerant to each other. It was all a bit strange considering that she originally believed that she, as an outsider, might be a problem in a group of humans.

With one ear she listened to the interrogation, but there was nothing much she could make sense of so far. River drakes. Whatever that may be. Why did they attack the camp in the first place? Bacarov indicated that he had something to do with it, but more importantly he indicated that there was a larger whole, which was her primary worry at the moment.

When she had don her armour Calwen got Windmane ready. She glanced over to the interrogation. The gnome annoyed her. Normally gnomes where a strange lot, tricksters, sure, but that gnome seemed so human in his excuses and his greed. Alas she could not see any link to her own concerns at the moment. Did those bandits, those drake poachers even know there was a war going on in the shadows around them? Or was that part of what lay in the shadows? To be perfectly honest with herself she was ready to admit that she was glad that Bacarov had claimed responsibility for the prisoner, since she had no idea what to do with him. If that was all to the band he belonged to she might have simply let him go in the end, but with a larger force he would run to, that was not an option.

Calwen grabbed the pommel and pulled herself up. '''“I shall secure the perimeter. If his story is true, there may be stray wizards from the Twilight Academy in need of help around here as well.”''' On 'if his story is true' she raised an eyebrow... any comment on that regard would be most welcome. To Warshawski she send a nod. She was a bit concerned about her and vibrations in the group. Calwen hoped that she did not take it too hard, but witnessing a violent death was a very extreme experience. Calwen hoped that she would get to speak to her soon.

Even though it was still dawning she looked for the tracks of the attackers to get an own idea of what actually happened.

Sebastian Bacarov
"Your deserve to face the hangman's noose for what you've told us." Bacarov responds vehemently. The knowledge of what the dead Shoanti had done is bad enough. It made it nigh intolerable knowing the little bastard in front of them didn't see beyond his coin pouch to the ramifications of turning someone like that loose on initiates. But he lived the law more than his own personal passions. To do otherwise, he'd not be an Inspector.

"What's your name, who was on the convening board at the Academy when you were exiled?" he withdraws his notebook. "You sound like a planner, so give me the names of your buyers too." Bacarov grinds his teeth but adds, "Think of your confession as a horse. The better it is, the further it'll get you away from the noose." He leans in close, the disgust on his face clear. "Get your story straight, chummer. Because I'm going to ask the other prisoners, and if the stories don't line up..." He leans back and let's the threat hang in the air.

Warshawski
''The confession turned my stomach. I could see it did the same for Bacarov. The little s*$# deserved to dance on the end of a rope for his crimes. That wasn't for me to decide, though. That wasn't my job.''

''I reached down and plucked out the gnome's dagger. He didn't need that anymore.''

"We'll be wanting to take off those fancy wrist bangles of his, too, Bacarov. They're magic. The spirits will tell me what they do."

Vincent Marsh
Marsh puts one of his large hands on the monks shoulder.

"Meh, yeah alright Dalton, it's not everyone's cup of tea to operate at night. We got time I guess. These guys won't be missed for a bit. We can wait til light. Thanks again for speakin up and your support. Hearin what you had to say was good."

Marsh turns back to Dramin. His manner is that of a teacher. The old dog pointing things out to the new hat.

"Well kid, I guess we are back to checkin bodies. Be careful though, Warshawski's an Bacarov's officer safety is for s*+~ right now. They didn't even do a proper search of the prisoners they are talkin to."

"It's the knife you don't see that usually kills ya. Never leave s%~$ like those bracelets on your prisoners, yer just askin to get shanked if you get sloppy. First place you check is where you're gonna put their hands. I keep a spare manacle key right back here in the seam of my waistband. Sebastian is a good investigator, but bein on the street too long can make you get lax. Bein an officer is a job for good people who go home at the end of the day and hang up their badge to be dads, sons and husbands. Criminals live like criminals as a lifestyle. They don't do shifts, they are plotting, scheming and thinkin about how to run, fight or escape at all times. 24 hours a day. Their minds are criminal. You need to know how criminals think. Keeps you safe."

Dalton the Thirsty
Dalton only smiles and nods at Marsh. Turning back to the campsite, he begins setting to gathering up the bodies and putting them all downwind of where they'll sleep. It's an important labor for the victors to dispose of the bodies of the slain, he was taught - to teach him and remind him that even victory carries a terrible cost.

Sebastian Bacarov
''Having fun bad-mouthing my procedures? ''Bacarov grinds his teeth and calls over his shoulder. "A good beat cop knows how to check the street before running his mouth too." He glances over his shoulder. "Their bindings aren't standard issue (mwk). I've spent time with the likes of thieves and know how to secure a prisoner. Plus, I'm not keen on ending up like the bodies I investigate. Check them, wrists compressed and elbows tight, fetters tight too. How about I put you in a set and we'll see how long it takes for you to break free and start pulling your pud on how big and bad you are." He turns back to the gnome and growls over his shoulder. "Try not pissing on my abilities, Vinnie."

Dramin Jodare
Dramin doesn't notice the friction between Bacarov and Marsh and just silently nods to the bigger man, his face back to its usual mask of indifference.

"Well then Marsh, if you want to do a check on them, please do so while I prepare my magic tools. It makes things much easier if we divide it up as I need a quiet space anyway." He looks toward Dalton who is gathering the bodies. "We can do a thorough magical analysis when I return."

He walks off, purposely passing by the gnome on his way to his tent, his eyes fire for a split second. ''You allowed the deaths of students, knowledge seekers who could have done great things. May Nethys take your mind if you make it that long.''

Vincent Marsh
"I wasn't insultin your handcuffin Sebastian. It doesn't take muscle to get outta cuffs when you got a hidden key. I was tryin to show the kid the ropes. No sense in getting him killed by just followin examples and not knowin what he's seein. Your dad teaches that course right? I get the message though."

"Dramin ain't gonna listen anyhow. He can figure it out in his own way. I'll let you do your thing."

Marsh moves off towards where the monk has gone. He remains quiet resting against a tree with his eyelids closed.

GM
Before the gnome can answer any of Bacarov's questions, the remaining brigand leans forward. "Hey, lawman! How's this for a 'horse?' This whackjob is feeding you a mouthful of crap. This guy- look, I ain't no law-abidin' citizen, that's for sure, but... this guy's a whole different breed. You shoulda seen him in that est-yoo-airy place; chilled me straight to the bone. An' Akka- the poor ex-Hawk Tribe gal whose head your big man caved in- you shoulda seen how he got in her head. I mean, she was a psycho already- how do you even get kicked out of a Shoanti tribe, anyway?- but when he got his hooks in 'er, she went way over the edge."

The Professor "sneezes" loudly and suddenly, and shoots the brigand a truly demonic glare, but the brigand only sneers and continues.

"I mean, killin' dragons and sellin' their organs for a tidy profit? I was all on board for that. But the Professor here- Nettleby Brackenweld, that's the little weasel's name- he took one look at those poor magic students and he snapped. Never seen anything as scary as that little man right there."

"Silence!" the gnome shrieks. "Do not listen to this man, officers. He is a common highwayman and obviously cannot be trusted. And I did not 'put my hooks' into poor Akka! You know full well of her mental instability! Her obsession with collecting ears as trophies! That woman needed no encouragement to engage in full-blown slaughter!"

The brigand nearly leaps up from the ground, his face twisting in anger. "Well, none of us were plannin' on murderin' those students! You said somethin' to her in that devil's tongue of yours and she got all crazy-eyed and started cavin' people's chests in and cuttin' ears off while they were still alive! We didn't sign up for all that, you insane old coot!"

The gnome practically screams into Bacarov's face: "This man is a liar and a scoundrel! You should kill him immediately! Call your thug and have him smash this criminal's skull!"

The gear you are all able to scavenge from the fallen brigands, including the Shoanti and the Professor, are as follows:

4x longswords -4x heavy crossbows, with a total of 63 bolts -1x Earthbreaker -1x Masterwork Hide Armor -1x small-sized dagger (taken by Warshawski) -1x wand of burning hands (claimed by Dramin already) -1x set of bracers of armor +1 from the Professor. I'm sure Dramin would have no trouble identifying these, so no need to roll. -A total of 43 GP and six small opals -An assortment of random gear carried by the brigands, all mundane stuff. -And a large knapsack filled with several fluid-filled jars, wrapped in blankets for protection, each containing what appears to be some sort of organ.

Warshawski
"Oh. This is the part where the rats turn on each other." ''I loved that about criminals. They weren't very big on loyalty in general. Especially the hirelings.''

"I realize that they broke Magnimar law, Bacarov, but the little gnome weasel here mind controlled a Shoanti woman and lead her to her death. She may have been in exile but I bet the local Shoanti tribe would love some justice taken out of the little asses' hide anyway..."

GM
The Professor- Nettleby- glares at Warshawski. "You wouldn't," the gnome says, and suddenly the color begins to drain from his face. He clenches his jaw and lowers his gaze, and you notice sweat suddenly beading up on his forehead as he begins mumbling to himself under his breath.

Sebastian Bacarov
Bacarov yanks a handkerchief from his pouch and jams it into the gnome's mouth. '''"Sorry slaphead, I'll put a stop to that." '''He's quick to stop the magic user from uttering an enchantment. "If you're able to spur someome to that kind of savagery, killing academy students, I'm not taking any chances."

Bacarov considers the henchman's tale, sifting thru the slang and extracting the description of the type of magic used. Something that kicks a person's mind into a fever with a helping of aggression...what sort of magic am I dealing with here?

He nods agreement to her assessment. Then he gestures to the thug. "His story checks out clearer than the gnome's." Bacarov says to Warshawski. "Earlier in the forest, I found the drake they'd been hunting. Tried to heal it, sort of a 'I'm a friend' type thing while we stayed hidden. When the gnome and his group found me, I tried a misdirect, I've had the unfortunate necessity to learn Infernal in my past. So I got slaphead here talking in it and he was all sorts of eager to parlay with the 'demon' I was pretending to be."

He sees Marsh moving out of the corner of his eye. So does this mean you downed the Shaonti when she was under a magic spell? Bacarov stays focused on the now, leaving that lineif inquiry to his return to Magnimar and the inevitable trial.

To Warshawski, "So we have a gnome with a grudge against his old school, goes into business for himself organ-legging, then stumbles upon the Estuary. He flies into a jealous rage seeing students entrusted to the field..." He points to the dead Shoanti. "He turns her aggro, then sees to it the kids pay for getting what he never received; trust."

He looks to the henchman who'd spoken up ad is about to warn him to not stand, but he learns too late that his legs are bound and falls over.

Dalton the Thirsty
Dalton is cradling the dead Shoanti woman's body in his arms when Bacarov gestures to her. Though he had been diligently moving the bodies to a place downwind, he had been paying sharp attention to what the investigators were saying during the interrogation.

He's carrying the dead woman away when he calls over his shoulder, "How close is this local tribe you speak of, Warshawski?"

Sebastian Bacarov
''He makes a good point. Can't say as I've had much experience with the tribes. There was a drunkard down in Dockaway we suspected of a murder...he'd been an exile but at least innocent of the charges. ''Bacarov waits for Warshawski's impressions of his summation and if she knows anything on the Shoanti, maybe he can help with the latter.

GM
To Sebastian:

There are a few spells you know of that could, in theory, motivate an unstable person to murder: charm person, suggestion, and especially murderous command.

To Warshawski:

The only Shoanti tribe regularly seen in this area is the Hawk Tribe, but they most frequently roam the areas a few days' travel north of here. That is the same tribe that you learned occasionally trades with the locals of Ravenmoor. From what you know of them, the markings on the slain Shoanti's body match those used by the Hawk Tribe as well.

The Professor seems to have put himself into some sort of trance and is rocking back and forth with his eyes closed. Despite being gagged, you can tell that he is still trying to speak.

To everyone except Calwen:

The remaining brigand looks up hopefully at Bacarov and Warshawski. "So, uh, how far is that horse gonna carry me, officers? And hey, hey, I can tell you where the rest of our gear was stashed! What we have on us was just the bare minimum. We had a little camp set up not too far from here- not like the rest of these chumps are gonna need any of that stuff anymore. Whaddaya say?"

Warshawski
''The way the little criminal was rocking back and forth and trying to mutter disturbed me. There were too many little niggles and broken rule in magic. Even gagged and shackled it was possible for the gnome to unleash some sort of hell. I leaned down and spoke in the man's ear in gnomish.''

In gnome: "I suggest stopping that." I hissed my warning, "I do my job. That means arresting you instead of murdering you. But if I think you're resisting arrest or trying to cast a spell we'll be justified in ending you. Right here. Right now. Understand?"

I let my warning sink in, giving the gnome the chance to make the right choice.

"Bacarov, the Hawk tribe ranges a few days to the north of here, in the same region we're going. The Hawks trade with Ravenmoor regularly. The woman Marsh killed was a member of that tribe. She could have given us more information on Ravenmoor. She had probably actually been there."

''I looked at the woman's spirit, floating above the professor's head. I could see her, even hear her, but I couldn't compel her to talk.''

I straightened up and stretched my back out.

"Getting their stash might be a good idea. Clues, if nothing else. We should take the prisoners back to that little town while we're still close to it... and decide if we need to knock out the gnome or listen to what he's chanting."

Sebastian Bacarov
He turns to tell brigand, responding to his announcement. "We'll see, depends on if your unconscious teammate backs your story. Why don't you keep that mouth of yours shut for now." He turns back to the gnome and Warshawski, curious as to what the gnome is trying to do.

"No, an ounce of prevention..."

Gnomish: "We'll try this again when you're not being a sneaky bastard..."

Bacarov retrieves his sap from his hip pouch, braces the gnome to stip his rocking and hits the gnome across the face.

He looks at the weak results of his hit and decides to give him another. "You've got to be kidding..."

He watches the gnome for a little while as he speaks to Warshawski. "I've got little desire to treat with the tribes. But I'm not sure what sort of welcome we'll get in Ravenmoor either. Are they going to be willing to imprison these folks while we collect the city's due? They don't like visitors, much less criminals." He chews on the situation for a while, playing or the scenarios in his mind like a theater production.

"Now using that small town..." Bacarov considers the idea. "Not sure if they're outfitted to hold prisoners..."

Dramin Jodare
Dramin returns from his tent, some time having passed. He was quite fast today and it pleased him, though he wasn't sure as to what the reason. Chalk that up for later I suppose.

He sees Bacarov and Warshawski still interrogating the gnome. His head shakes as he focuses to avoid the whole situation, as his thoughts on the gnome were abundantly clear earlier. Perhaps the monk has found something so far.

His small journey takes him to the monk who is still performing his ritual to the dead. "Dalton." Dramin looks like he is going to say something but upon surveying the bodies, he stays quiet and instead looks at the bodies slowly, trying to find anything among them that may be of worth to a mage. Dramin Detects Magic in the area, focusing on the strongest signature nearby. Perform a Spellcraft check on it for fun.

"How is he doing? He refers to the dozing behemoth under the tree.

GM
To Warshawski and Sebastian:

Wolf's Ear was a small town, but the local town guard garrison is certainly up to the task of holding a few criminals. You would only lose a few hours of travel time if you wanted to run the brigands and the gnome back there before getting back on the road to Ravenmoor; you'd still be arriving early in the day after tomorrow.

To everyone except Calwen:

The muttering gnome ignores both Warshawski and Bacarov's words, and puts up no resistance as the Inspector knocks him out cold with his sap.

Dramin finds nothing magical on any of the brigands; the only magical fare they carried was the wand and the set of bracers the gnome had carried. Perhaps in that stash of gear the remaining brigand had mentioned...

Dalton the Thirsty
Dalton is just finishing setting the Shoanti woman down against a tree. Her destroyed skull flops to one side, everything above the woman's lower lip completely pulverized. He sets her hands folded over one another in her lap and stands up again, crossing his arms as he looks down at her. He glances over at Marsh.

"Well enough. I don't think we've seen the end of the fighting between those two, though. This is just a temporary cease in hostilities." he shakes his head.

"I've considered asking him to join me in my meditations, or my morning practices. I think it would do him good. My sensei cautions me against...evangelizing, however. It's better to try to live and let live."

Sebastian Bacarov
''And when you wait long enough, a suspect talks and options open up... ''He considers the little township behind them. "Wolf's Ear had a garrison..." Bacarov recalls. "...they'd be outfitted for holding these clowns until we make the return journey. And if we don't make the return...the garrison rotates troops, the suspects can be brought to Magnimar with them."

He nods as though the conclusion is obvious, looking to Warshawski and offering it up. "We gather the rest of the evidence, get these bastards back to Wolf's Ear. It shouldn't throw us off schedule by more than a few hours, right?"

Once they're in agreement, he'll make the pitch to the group.

Warshawski
''Bacarov and I were on the same page. We couldn't let our prisoners go and we couldn't drag them all the way to Ravenmoor through bandit country.''

"First, we get told where the stash is. We retrieve it. Then we take them back to Wolf's Ear and drop them off. Agreed."

Calwen Snowpaw
A little later Calwen approached the camp. “Good morning, my fellow travellers”, she called out, but not too loud, since she did not want to alert enemy scouts. '''“I have found the lost river drake. He – or she, I am not sure of that – is wounded and needs help, so I brought him along. Do not be alarmed, he is pretty friendly and quite intelligent, although I am unable to comprehend the language it speaks. Actually he seems nice, though that is hard to decide without understanding him. Does any of you speak... draconic, I suppose? He seems pretty young, I think it was best we treat his wounds, and to find his family. If river drakes have families. The problem with the larger bandit camp remains however. The fires of the attack can widely be seen.”'''

She sighs and rubs her forehead. As though she did not have enough to worry about. '''“We cannot linger here for long lest we are to be discovered. But we may have to go hunting. He needs something to eat.”'''

She turns to the drake. '''“Friends. Safe... well, relatively safe, given the circumstances, anyway.”''' She indicates putting food into her mouth. “Eat? Hunger?” She gets one of the rations for Windmane and one of her own elven rations out, bit an edge off the latter to show that it was edible and offered it. '''“He – she, whatever – is probably thirsty, too. Lost a lot of blood. I gave him healing potion, but he needs more care than that.”''' She got her water skin out drank a sip and offered to give some to the drake. To the prisoner she cast only a brief glare: “And don't you dare utter any suggestions as to what we might do with him!”

Sebastian Bacarov
''Hmmm, more concerns. I was afraid there might be more of these poachers about...'' Bacarov switches tasks and departs the unconscious form of the gnome and walks slowly towards Calwen and the drake. On the way he begins drumming a beat along his throat and releases a portion of his magical energies. (cast Comprehend Languages) In addition, he withdraws his CLW wand and shows it to the animal. "Well if it isn't my old hiding partner... Remember me, big fella?" He waggles the wand and grins."You speak, I listen." He points to his mouth then to the drake then to his own ear as he says the last.

Bacarov stops short and crouches, letting the drake approach him for the healing.

As he waits, he mentions to the others, "What Calwen found lines up with what our prisoners have stated. That fire may be coming from what's called the Estuary, a magical academy outpost for studying these fine creatures here. The little bastard and his crew trashed it and then chased after the young drake here to tie up loose ends."

"On the bright side, a quick return trip to Wolf's Ear and we can safely ensconce our prisoners and evidence with the garrison. Plus, there's likely a hefty reward for those not on the job like Warshawski and I. The trip would set us back no more than a few hours, and we'd still get into Ravenmoor early morning as planned." He maintains his focus on the drake and continues. "On the bad side, we've might have more of these yahooes out there stirring it up. We'll need to investigate and gather evidence, shut down the operation for good." He glances to Calwen and nods agreement with her assessment. "Thanks for scouting the area. That's some good intel."

Back to the lippy thug but still facing the drake in case he approaches, "Tell us, chunmeroo, are you and your mates here it? Or are there more of your crew? Remember our ground rules...truth saves you, lies kill." He nods friendly to the drake."Keep in mind our young friend here seems a chatty sort, so your tale better line up."

Vincent Marsh
Marsh opens one eye and looks at what the elf has brought into camp.

"Heh, heh, great. We can go back to Wolf's Ear drop this group of prisoners off, commander their belongin's before they've been convicted, go on a treasure hunt, find an enemy camp, capture additional bandits without hurtin anyone while doin so in an ecologically friendly manner---go back to Wolf's Ear---drop off more prisoners, then go deliver a body to a hostile wildling tribe that excommunicated the dead person in the first place, fight blight, rescue baby woodland creatures that will later grow up to eat our kids on the banks of the river---find it a foster family if needed . . . and go collect back taxes."

"Hey anyone remember that guy we were Lookin for? Elias was it? Maybe we can work that guy into the schedule somewhere."

Vinnie gets up and appraises the state the drake is in. His hard exterior softens somewhat.

"Yeah, this one ain't full grown. Normally nature is best left to its own, but ah hell. . . Ya can't help, but feel for the thing. . . Hang on to yer potions, I'll go get my kit an sew em up. Hopefully Dramin can convince it not to turn me into a steaming s~%% pile of acidic goop."

His humor sharpens as his normal outward appearance returns. The big man glances at his companions.

"I mean, wouldn't want to cheat Warshawski of her amazin day in court prosecutin people for justified self defense against mayhem committin homicidal maniacs. Oops there I go again, thought crimes of microagressin verbalization. Better add that one to my fish slip for the jailer."

Vinnie goes to his gear pile and gets out an extensive field medicine kit.

"Calwen, I'm gonna need you to be a witness so you can attest to me bein a good Samaritan an not annoyin or molestin wildlife or some s*~+. Hey Warshawski!? You wanna call fish and game and find out if I am allowed to rehab a draconic non fur bearin semiaquatic life form without a permit?"

Vinnie puts the kit out where the drake can see what he's doing. The big man starts showing the creature what he has in the kit even though it's obvious that the draconic creature has no idea what he's actually saying.

Those watching him long enough may recognize his tactics are those found tried and true by parents for eons and across all cultures when dealing with a child injured and frightened of the unknown for the coming treatment.

"Hey Dramin, tell this thing we are gonna fix its owies and make the hurtin stop. Hey and find out if he or she has a name too please."

GM
The brigand groans as Calwen approaches with the drake. "Ugh, don't worry. I'm done with these drakes. You do with that beast what you will- I'm over all this." He looks up at Bacarov. "It was just us on this run. Akka- the Shoanti- she was the leader, and us four were her gang. The Professor hired us for this job. I don't know if he has a crew of his own, but I'd be pretty surprised if anybody out there could tolerate bein' around him for too long. He might talk pretty for you, but that man's got somethin' wrong with him."

With the ability to understand Draconic bestowed upon him by the spell, Bacarov is able to understand the drake's words. It takes a few steps forward, accepting the light of your healing wand, and begins to speak as its wounds begin to close further. When Marsh approaches and begins to treat its injuries, it allows the big man to do so without incident.

The drake says, in draconic:

"Good to see bush-friend is alive still, and can understand this one's words. Wanted to warn you of dangers, but now is irrelevant. This one will tell you of what has happened on this night, to the point when Calwen-friend finds this one in the hiding-bushes."

'''"This one lives at the estuary with its mother and its father and nest-mates. Wizards from south-city also there, studying and feeding. Two teachers, five students. Kind to this one, they were. Friends. This night the wicked ones come. Kill mother and father and nest-mates while sleeping, take wizards hostage, burn their spellbooks. Take pieces out from this one's family and put them in cylinders with green water. Big woman scare wizards, cut off student's ear before elf-teacher stop her. Little gnome burn him with fire-stick, smiled while watching. Students cry. I hide in back room, was there with student when the wicked ones came. Listen and watch while gnome makes magic, make big woman angry until she kill others. Gnome take parts out from them, too. Take parts and not put them in cylinders, just take them for fun. Then they come in back room and find me with last student. She try save me. They shoot her with arrows, I escape into river. Swim long and hard, even when shot, but hard to swim with so much injury. Can swim no more, go on land and hide in bushes. Try to wait till morning, but they find me. Then meet bush-friend, wait and hope. Sorry this one did not help. This one was still hurt and frightened."'''

"This one is hungry. This one thinks friends should let it eat the wicked ones and then go back in the river. But not eat the gnome. Something bad inside the gnome. Maybe get sick if eat that one."

Warshawski
''The flies were thick today. I kept hearing a buzzing sound. Probably attracted to all the s$+$ nearby.''

"I believe him. I think this was a small operation. It would have to be, to poach on owned land and get away with it." I said to Bacarov. "The drake's going to be hungry. I doubt our trail rations will do much for it, though. I don't think we have the time to go hunting, so maybe it can come with us and we can get some raw meat in the town. We'll also want to send a note to the magic school, let them know what happened."

Calwen Snowpaw
To Marsh's initial outburst she only replies with a smile and: "I did not know that you have children."

Calwen has no clue as to what the drake is saying, she has difficulties enough deciding where one word end and another begins in its language, yet she listens attentively and tries to mimic the sounds without actually vocalizing them. She tries to be as soothing as anyhow possible as Marsh treats him, but the being is indeed intelligent enough to realize Marsh only tries to help him.

Curiously she looks to Sebastian wondering what the drake had said.

Sebastian Bacarov
The creature's story boils inside Bacarov. He nods understanding and sighs. After getting hs mind right he begins relaying the information to the others. (have a read of the draconic spoiler above.) "Looks like we've got something even worse with this gnome. I'll have to ensure the garrison has a mage-cap on hand. He's going to be worth a lot of information back in Magnimar. His sort of research might lead the Watch to other dark dabblers like him."

Bacarov grinds his teeth Marsh's way. "Do you ever just shut the hells up, Marsh? Ever? We get it, you're the big man on the battle field with that demon-faced masher of yours. Yeah, we get it you don't like Warshawski or have an ounce of respect for what we do. So at the risk of sounding 'edgy', keep your idiotic comments to yourself!!!" He feels like his head's going to pop. "Try and remember, after big mashers like yourself get done doling out the pain, it's folks like me and Warshawski who's left to sort out the mess afterwards. So let us do the job!"

He stashes his wand and goes over to Calwen while addressing the others. "Any constructive ideas regarding checking the estuary for evidence? The dead there deserve a proper burial. I'd like to then cart the prisoners to Wolf's Ear and deliver a message to Magnimar to get the gnome transfered immediately." He takes a breath and steadied his nerves. "Next stop would be Ravenmoor as planned. Puts us back 4 hours or so assuming no further trouble. We can dig a bit into this crew's operation, find out some more regarding the blight perhaps, then go into Ravenmoor all the wiser."

His guts are still churning. All the times I've stuck up for you, Vinnie and you've always s~*$ on my job, my love of the law. He glances at Marsh, then he suddenly feels weary. Think I'm about spent, mate.

Dramin Jodare
Dramin sat back and listened to the men and women talk about the new arrival, he was still fuming at the gnome and what they did. He walked over to the shackled and down gnome and took out his small ritual dagger. He took a deep breath and remembered that the man could still be useful to finding more information regarding the now dead students.

He walked.

Overhearing the tail end of the drakes story he turned to it, "Hail dragonkin. We mean you no harm, I offer our names to you before you yours. I am Dramin, and the others shall introduce themselves to you as well." He points to the others and asks them to introduce themselves one at a time, Dramin translating for them, his whole time his eyes analyzing the specimen hungrily.

"Now I know this will not be enough, but we have what remains of your kind. If you desire we can provide them back to you." His voice is actually kind to an extent and his voice sombre. "However, those others who did the killing are in our charge now. We cannot provide them to you as they took family from me as well; fellow wizards and mortal folk. They must pay in the end." He takes a deep breath, "If it is not too much if you can show me the final resting place of my fellow mages I would be most appreciative."

He stays near the drake to translate anything else. Though he is lost in thought.

Calwen Snowpaw
"I agree that time is in short supply, but I hope Wolf's Ear isn't far, we do have a hungry drake on our hands, and I am not ready to feed it the bodies of people, not even our enemies. Best not teach it that eating people was a good idea under any circumstance. A hungry drake whose family is dead, which will not make it easier."

She ponders for a moment and starts to assemble her composite bow. "When he said that they took parts of the academy folk I suppose he means the ears? I am afraid I do not have constructive ideas regarding a search for evidence, or burying the bodies, but if we do take that time, I strongly recommend that I, along with one more capable hunter, try to find something for it to eat, other than people." She fixates Sebastian. "You think this may be connected to the blight? Despite their detestable habits and their sadism they seemed primarily driven by greed..."

Dramin Jodare
"I want to know what they were doing with the fellow magi. If this is linked to Ravenmoor it could mean many sinister things. Bacarov did you see any markings on the gnome that are suspicious or out of the ordinary? Anything occult or infernal?" He doubts the link but it could always be more than greed as Calwen points out. "Calwen, I asked the drake if they could assist us to find the bodies, we will see what happens I suppose; though I fear this goes deeper than just experiments, sold organs and a missing taxman."

Vincent Marsh
Vinnie locks eyes with Bacarov's.

"I don't have disrespect for what you do, not at all. I didn't even use'tah dislike Warshawski, but you keep hangin around with her and she'll lead you to ruin. I didn't know you could thump handcuffed and bound that weren't activly tryin to escape. Is she gonna turn you in for color of authority?"

"How about this scene here? How are you going to present it objectivly in court? Dramin, Dalton and Calwen here all saw it pretty much as I did. Warshawski apparently didn't."

"How about you quit talkin for your girlfriend who's happy to let you carry her torch of righteousness for her while she can hide behind you."

"I've had her back plenty of times. She slaps me in the face you don't say s@~@ about it. I try to talk to her about it, she don't even respond."

"She's poison to everything she touches. Manipulative. Didn't see me stringin some young thing along in our travels did Ya? She drives wedges. Doin the same thing now. Gettin you to think I am suddenly some kind of out of hand murderer."

"You may not like how I say it that's fine."

"I'm not gonna just let her walk you to an early grave and stay silent."

Warshawski
''I couldn't help it. After Marsh's little speech, I just couldn't help it. It rose up out of me like bubbles in champagne.''

''I laughed. Long. Hard and from my gut. Because he had just said some of the most ridiculous crap I've heard in my entire life.''

"I am so sorry, Marsh. I didn't realize I was stealing your boyfriend." I wiped the tears away from my eyes. "For the record, big guy, yeah, I think you murdered a woman when you could have subdued her and it hurt us. I think she might have been mind-controlled which makes it worse. I think you should stand trial for that. If the court rules it was self-defense? Fine. Justice served."

I shrugged my shoulder.

"Bacarov's honor is good enough for me. I trust his word because I know it means something to him."

''As I talked, I kept an eye on the prisoners. I didn't want them to escape while we were busy infighting.''

"And you have never actually tried to talk with me about anything. Not since this whole thing went down. You've talked TO me. You've talked DOWN to me. You've shouted at me and you've condescended to me. You've called me a b%$&& multiple times and suggested I was a whore because I have deep religious beliefs. Never once have you actually tried to talk with me."

I shrugged my shoulders.

"And after your whole rant about good cops and bad cops and how you were somehow using crushing someone's skull as a valid law enforcement intimidation method? I don't think you have a lot of room to be talking about anyone manipulating anyone. Or is manipulation only alright when a man does it?"

Vincent Marsh
"Oh boy here we go with the feminist b!!!+!&# again"

Dalton the Thirsty
Dalton approaches the group, his work completed. He gazes between the two officers with a placid expression, his eyes carefully blank.

"We can worry about what we say in court when we return to Magnimar. For now, a hungry drake is my concern." He gestures back where he came from with one wide sweep of his arm. "Let the drake eat the bodies of the slain, and then go about his or her business, while we go about ours." he stretches his shoulders a bit, rolling his neck. "I'll be fully awake for hours now after that warm-up."

Vincent Marsh
"Yeah well, you can say I didn't whack Warshawski when I coulda. I still don't actually hate her---yet."

"There ya go fella, all stitched up."

"Drakes normally eat just about anythin, especially if it's ah . . . Had a chance to age a bit if you know what I mean. This one's been raised around people. Drakes are intelligent like people. They don't run on instinct as much as other reptilian creatures. Not sure we can just release it. Might have to take it back to the college. You could take the organs there too I guess. Better than lettin it go to waste."

"Hey there buddy, you like bein scratched back here by your head crest? Oh I bettcha do. I bettcha do. . . Yeah there ya go."

Marsh looks at the group.

"Look, I'm not goin back to town. I can track back to these guys' lair and the estuary place no problem. Whoever wants to come with me is welcome. Sebastian, can catch back up with us on the road. I know he's gotta see to those in his custody first."

GM
The drake looks back and forth between Bacarov, Warshawski, and Marsh. It cocks its head and looks at Dramin. In Draconic, it says: "This one wonders if it comes at bad time. Should this one come back later, when these are done yelling? Or is this human courtship ritual?"

It purrs like a cat when Marsh scratches it. "This one thinks the big one is not as unkind as it acts. Father sometimes puffed out chest when angry at having to take tests for wizard. Said unkind things and stomped about. But still kind at end of day. The big-friend seems the same. Should not yell so much, or friends might think him unkind for true."

Marsh continues to patch up the drake, doing a remarkably good job with it.

Sebastian Bacarov
In response to Calwen's question regarding the Blight, he shrugs thoughtfully. "My line of work is based on connections. Living in a city full of secret cults and people who just kill for the thrill, one thing that always stands out are the connections. Evil's like a sloping pit, you circle it long enough and you fall in..." He waves to the gnome, "The youngling drake mentioned he'd be willing to eat all of them except the caster. Makes me think the meat's bad...and if that's the case then it's a rot that's more than skin deep. Like a blighting of his soul." Back to Calwen, he then gestures around. "I've read evil begets evil, so if this Blight is as deep as you think it is, it'll attract others of its ilk."

Dramin asks intuitive questions too. Bacarov is thankful for the opportunity to further distance his mind from the conflict. "Nothing overt, but he did start chanting. I've seen similar in my past so I doused his torch for the time being until we can sort it out. But you might have something there. Like the gnome influencing the barbarian into atrocities, maybe the blight not only attracts the evil, it enhances it. Good thinking, maybe we can learn more from..."

Then Marsh does what he does best, never let it go. Bacarov is going to respond, tell Marsh that yeah, he knocked him out, didn't kill him. And oh, by the way he was in the midst of spell-flinging but if it wasn't conclusive he got knocked out, not dead for it. Bacarov prepares to inform Marsh that he never expected or trusted him to show for court, even if the case would be dismissed. That's why he stood for him and the charges. He's about to lay into him again...

...but he stops. ''There's no changing you, no admitting different points of view. I tell you the gnome was casting, you come back with something else.''

Then Warshawski puts the oil on the fire. It's sensible, but it's all in the delivery. Add to it Bacarov is just tired of the coversation. He'd side with the law every time, Warshawski is on that side now, but Marsh wouldn't see it that way. All he's seeing is Sebastian is being manipulated by the girl.

It's Dalton's idea that brings him back to the present. "Don't worry, Dalton, I know it'll be me at any sort of inquiry. But as for the disposition of bodies? Can't say I know the right thing. Your upbringing in Rhadoum may not have influence of the gods, but I don't know if we'll be pissing off Pharasma by feeding the dead to a drake."

He sighs and heads towards his tent. "I'll start compiling notes and get packed up. Dramin, if you want to scout out the Estuary, I think we can do that first. If burial isn't possible, then we can collect names for the Academy and they can see to it. But like I said before, it'll serve us to be wiser going into Ravenmoor. If it costs us a few hours, so be it."

Marsh starts in again, one more comment for the road. Bacarov just shakes his head. "Glad to hear what you will and won't do, thanks Vinnie." He continues towards the tents. "I'm fine getting these guys back to Wolf's Ear. I'll meet you on the road to Ravenmoor."

He pauses. ''Dammit I need the evidence. The more the better when it comes to cases like these. ''"Dramin, I know your passion for uncovering the truth at the estuary. If it's available, I need to have you secure as much evidence as possible. The mages at the Watch and the Academy will appreciate a much as you can find. We can take it back with us after Ravenmoor."

"As for the organs, the combination of their state and the tools used to extract them lend towards evidence as well. I'll take them with me. Certain techniques in the dissection might give us hints as to who trained the gnome in his harvesting ability."

He moves on and gets packed up.

Then the drake speaks. Bacarov pauses and looks back, giving the drake a clear sign that he understands. ''That's why it kicks me in the guts, buddy. Sooner or later you have to push the b+###*~@ off your life lest you always smell like it. ''He offers the drake a gesture that's says, 'stay put, we're done'.

Dramin Jodare
"Yes. Most of us mortals are like this. Its a shame really, we could accomplish much more if we only ever worked together. Stay if you desire." He speaks to the drake in draconic, with a slight sadness to his voice, as if he realizes the fault within. He knows that Bacarov can hear and understand but he doesn't really pay heed to his reaction if there is one. He puts his hand on Bacarov and in draconic speaks loud enough for the drake to hear, "I told the dragonkind that if it wanted the pieces of its kind back it could have them, I do not wish to go back on that despite the circumstances. If it has any specific way it wants to deal with the situation... it is its to decide." His statement seems absolute and doesn't quite leave much room for movement.

"With regards to the estuary, you can be certain I will scour the place. If what you said about the gnome and the drake's appetite is true, then perhaps there may be something to find which can assist or demolish my hypothesis." He faces Calwen, "Elf, if you wish to follow up on this blight, please accompany. We have much to discuss." Dramin then goes back to his usual self, falling into his moderate and clinical ways like clockwork.

Warshawski
"Are you sure you want to split the group up like this?" ''I asked Bacarov. I trusted his experience here. Tax investigators always flew solo. The city guard were trained for group work. But I needed to be sure.'' "Guarding prisoners is a two person job, in any case. I'll go with you. The number of spirits circling the gnome are mind-numbing. I need to make sure he's on the road to justice."

Dalton the Thirsty
The idea of splitting up sets off alarm bells in Dalton's head - he remembers his former adventuring group, and past horrible experiences that began with the party splitting off to do separate tasks. "I'm against dividing the group, for the record," is all he says aloud, however.

Sebastian Bacarov
Bacarov shrugs. "To be honest, I don't really care." He says to Dramin. "If I'm not allowed to do my job one way, I'll do it another. Give me a few minutes with the organs. I'll need to draw them in my book and detail what I can."

"As for dividing, I'm not for it. But I've got a duty to perform here. The crime in front of me over the potential crime on the horizon I've got to set priorities, unfortunately. And I recognize that mine are not the same as other's." He pulls out his notebook and drawing implements and gathers the organs to hand. "I've an assignment to look into Elias, to assist in the investigation of back taxes owed. But there's a reason a murder investigator withba knack for puzzles was attached to this little cadre." Bacarov cracks his neck and sets to work. "As Calwen and Dramin have mentioned, there's something larger going on here. Homicidal gnomes, blighting, strange occurrences in the Churlwood...all of it pointing to this craphole Ravenmoor." He chuckles with no mirth. "Like those Pharasmans say, death and taxes."

Calwen Snowpaw
Calwen listens to the conversation and stands close to the head of the drake as Marsh treats him. Calmly and melodic as ever she starts to talk: '''“If there is a chance there is more to these people than mere banditry we need to find out. In order to bury these people a little help from the people of Wolf's Ear might be welcome, but we don't need them to trample over the tracks there.”'''

She runs her fingertips through her hair, pushes them behind her pointy ears, which move as they try to pinpoint the individual sounds in the environment beyond their group: '''“Given that we don't know what else lures out there splitting up might not be the best choice, but going on different paths for a couple of hours might help to put things in perspective. Thus, I am going hunting for now and will join up with the investigation of the scene later. If someone went to Wolf's Ear right now to apprehend the prisoner that would be a good thing, too. Be sure to warn the villagers that his display of harmlessness is but a masquerade. If you can bring some fish or a living sheep or goat for our little friend here that would be perfect.”'''

With a brief glance to the drake, which seems indeed amazingly well patched up she continues: '''“I'll be hunting. Eating the bodies of intelligent people is not something intelligent creatures should do. Whatever sins they may have committed in life is not for us to judge any more and there is no reason for us to defile their bodies. Warshawski... if you need another woman to talk to... I am there for you. You are most welcome to join me, even though though you might be of help investigating the site of the attack.”'''

To Dramin she says: '''“Could you tell him that I will bring food and that he is not to eat those people? What's draconic for 'food'? And that he is the most handsome river drake I ever met? Or the prettiest, I am not so sure whether he is a he or a she.”''' He was of course the only river drake she ever met.

“Either way, we should break up the camp first”, she says and goes and starts to disassemble Warshawski's tent with a glance to her, to see whether she is fine with that.

Dramin Jodare
"I cannot tell a drake to not eat as much as I can tell a river to not flow. I will explain, but it will be your words and your responsibilities to hold true to the word."

He also explains the words, or phrases, for food and basic draconic flattery as best as he can as he uses them.

Vincent Marsh
"Eh, Calwen, just so you know. This drake is black because it is decended from the true black dragon's ancestry somewhere back in the days of primordial ooze where men were like insects. A full grown drake eats fishermen as easily as it does fish. I am hopin that this one here has been domesticated, but Uh, things could get dicey. Especially if it decides to get stupid hungry. These guys usually keep an underwater larder like a croc. They like their food rotten and water logged. They eats it whole, bone hair, everything. They spit acid from their stomachs or somethin. Digests everythin. "

"I'm thinkin that we need to find its proper food type."

"This estuary place ain't too far away. They had a whole scad of these things back there. There's probably plenty of food. Rather than hunt why don't we spend our time checkin out the place. We can hit the bandit camp on the way."

"Besides, there might be survivors out there still. We wait too long they'll be dead meat for sure. Or if there are more bandits they might get away. I think time is of the essence here."

"As for this crazy ass gnome, is he infected with somethin? Is this blight like a fungus or somethin? Cause in the wild animals don't usually let things like emotion get in the way of food. If the drake says somethin's wrong with'em there's more to it. The drake would happily eat the rest of these guys."

"I think it's best that we do split up. It should save us time and Sebastian and Warshawski need to make report, write statements, impound evidence all that."

"The four of us shouldn't have much problem with whatever we come across. By the time Sebastian's done with his detail, we'll meet back on the road."