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by **CR22** on Sat Jun 07, 2008 8:07 pm

"Later. We need to deal with the group as soon as possible, before they detect us. Let's move."

Aron began to move slowly around to the Aeron's flank, taking the side of an archer. The enemy was leaning against a tree, chatting with one of his companions. "Va basj klece nem narj kin ke vjaar," he spoke in an obscure northern dialect, something far removed from the common tongue of the traders. The archer glanced through the forest, then pulled his furs closer around him. The other two were seated on a log, their weapons lying across their laps, talking softly to each other as they lazily surveyed around their surroundings.

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by **Pandorym** on Sun Jun 08, 2008 8:44 am

Recognizing the task before him and merely hoping that the unseen person who was approaching had not yet noticed them, Torian scampered off into the undergrowth. He greeted the shadows like long-lost friends, for many times they had hidden him from the prying eyes of town guards and bandits of the roads alike. His current task was another simple mission, a plan he had carefully engineered to both be effective and allow him to be the first near the bodies of the fallen. If they had anything worth taking, he planned to take it before the others could blink.

Ferns parted silently before him, allowing access to the back of the glade and the most probable location of a route of retreat for the sentries. It'd be simple to trip at least one and bring him down even if the situation turned foul, and at least they'd have someone to interrogate. Prisoners, of course, were burdens that should be gutted once they spilled whatever was valuable inside their brains. Sliding his shovel, still covered in soft grave earth, from the ropes binding it to his back Torian readied himself to strike, prepared to bring down the swordsman with a quick blow to the back of the head. The time for daggers would come later, and the sound of metal against bone was always so satisfying...

As soon as everyone took their places, the thief let out the best signal he could think of: the call of a screech owl, a bird rarely seen this far north. Absorbed as they were in talking the barbarians might not notice, but anyone worthy to travel with him would have to be more observant than they.

by **BlazingBunny** on Sun Jun 08, 2008 11:15 pm

Daenyr had chosen to remain silent up until this point. This would be her first battle with this many strangers. It seemed very odd to her that anyone would hire lone wolves to suddenly work together. In the monastery they hunted together and most everyone could agree on a battle plan because that had all grown up in the same place.

The older man seemed out of place within all the young hot-shots vying for their chance at fame and fortune. She wondered why he was even here. Hunting barbarians for gold didn’t seem like the type of work for an elder of light. These weren’t demons or even minions of darkness; they were men. Why would a grown man of light stoop to such levels? Surely it couldn’t just be for the gold?

Daenyr felt comfort and wisdom in face, however, and amity in his voice. She knew he would most likely be the best to fight alongside. Stepping out from the shade and protection of an old tree sagging with snow she approached Hadrian on the right.

"Cover me?" She asked simply and kindly. Creeping quickly and quietly she nocked her first arrow and waited for a signal. It would’ve been nice if they told us what to wait for…. She lined up her pine arrow at the heart of one of the archers. It appeared like he had a weak soft wood bow anyways. Gripping the familiar feel of her smooth strong bow she pulled the string back taught.

Daenyr heard the screech owl sound and rolled her eyes, What an ugly sound to pick. PING! She let loose the first shot. From what she could see it hit her mark. Maybe a little high, but he’ll still have a quick death. Not wanting to be seen she darted quickly behind a tree and waited for the response.

((Sorry I have no idea who calls the hits considering they're npc's, I mean it's still you're call for it missing a major organ, letting him rip the arrow out with his own bare hands, going "ARGGH!!" then charging.

))

by **CR22** on Sun Jun 08, 2008 11:50 pm

((Careful on the godmodding there, Blaze...))

Upon hearing the birdcall, Aron lashed out with his scimitar in a quick strike, slashing the Aeron's hamstrings. A second blow crushed the man's fingers as he reached for a dagger.

The other two fell without a sound, one with an arrow through their neck and the other with a concussion. Aron looked oddly at Torian's weapon of choice, but quickly passed it off. He'd seen plenty of other strange devices, and a shovel was at least somewhat effective.

The mercenary kicked the fallen Aeron, disgusted by the man's whimpering. "Vnash! Vnash! Narj maajk! Narj Maajk!" the man cried, covering his face with his bleeding hand. "No kill! No kill!"

Aron dragged the man to the center of the clearing, where the rest of the group was congregating. "We got a live one...and it seems he speaks a little common. What do you want to do with him?"

((Sorry about the crappy post...I'm really tired...

)

by **Pandorym** on Mon Jun 09, 2008 1:26 pm

((Ah, don't worry, we all need to sleep some time.))

Had Torian been any weaker the shovel might have been ripped from his hands with the force of the blow, but long nights of digging had taught him to grip the shaft harder than a gargoyle grips its stone scepter. The man was down, certainly unconscious if not dead, as was another who had been pierced with a well-placed arrow. The third, clearly trying to stop the blood flow from his damaged legs while making gestures of surrender, was dragged roughly into the clearing where the group had first hidden in order for the interrogation to begin. Wanting to be sure that both of the other men were quite dead and would not be found, the thief managed to drag them both in short bursts into a tree well, covering over the bloody snow behind them.

Drawing his dagger he slit both their throats just in case, then looked through their pockets. Barbarian bandits often picked up anything shiny, regardless of whether or not they had anyone to sell it to, but their weapons were the only things worth taking. The archer's bow was of decent quality, part pine wood and part cattle horn in a well-balanced recurve that was nonetheless better for hunting animals than humans. The hunting knife he had was sans sheath and badly pocked and pitted, so Torian let it stay. The quiver was worth little but the arrows well-made, so he slid the latter out of the former and placed them alongside the bow. Having no use for a shield but knowing that an extra sword was always useful he also took the scimitar, probably stolen from a Southlander caravan guard, and covered the bodies over with snow. Looting their armor would take too long.

Making his way back to the clearing, his ears alert for any sign of the person he had heard earlier, Torian cast the bow, arrows, and sword to the ground far enough out of reach of the prisoner to ensure that they were not reachable by him. Twirling his bloody knife over his fingers he knelt before the prisoner, then licked the edge of the sharp blade with a savage grin. He was no expert on interrogation, but he knew plenty about fear.

"I brought the best of their gear, nothing worth too much, but if anyone needs a bow or a sword, take them. I'll sell them if nobody wants them. Now, for you. You don't have to speak well to get the idea. Answer my questions and I don't stick this knife in your gut and leave you in the snow to see if you bleed to death or freeze to death first. First, where is your camp? How many men are there? Lie to me and I'll hunt you down and throw you naked into the nearest frozen river with your wrists slit. You get the gist of this, I think."

by **CR22** on Mon Jun 09, 2008 3:52 pm

"I could use a shield for a bit, at least until we finish this job. A single scimitar isn't really useful for a forest like this anyway, especially if they have bows." Aron knelt and began examining the piece of armor, noting its light weight and limited durability - common traits of simple shields.

"No kill! No kill!" the Aeron whimpered, sending flecks of blood into Torian's eyes as he writhed in the snow. "No kill, I tell you what you want! Njar, fjannisk tokanolk fer mjaak..."

by **BlazingBunny** on Mon Jun 09, 2008 5:30 pm

Day heard the wretches, thuds and slices of death and was surprised when she looked around the tree to see the skirmish all but won. Two were down but one remained alive and badly wounded. She never had dealt with a prisoner before, but as one of the killers she took her place within the clearing to intimidate the prisoner further.

She took long strides through the deep snow with her hood up and her hands in her pockets. Her long black cloak slid eerily across the surface of the snow. Stopping at the small pile of booty she examined the bow and arrows. The bow was nicely crafted and the cow horn gave it a nice touch, but she was rather confident that hers was superior. She bent down and scooped up the arrows. The iron tips were crude and deadly to any sort of beast without much armor. Extra arrows were always welcome in her quiver.

Day chuckled to herself when she heard the attempt at interrogation. The man was already crippled in a hand and a leg, how the heck was he going run? The worst this man would get was another unsophisticated cut to the throat just like his companions. She walked unfeelingly past the pair to get her own use out of the dead bandits.

She knelt beside the man who had been shot with her own arrow. “Mala voo ti leek” she mumbled in her own gruff dialect. After taking out a small deerskin bag she yanked her black stone arrow out of his neck. A dark stream of blood flowed slowly into the bag. Once she had enough she tied the bag up tightly and put it carefully in her sack. Then she dipped her arrow a few times in the snow and placed it back in her quiver.

This was all perfectly normal to Day, but she wondered what the Aeron and her companions would think of such a basic blood ritual. ”Calm down Aeron, you’ll kill yourself wriggling around like that.”

by **Zeromancer** on Wed Jun 11, 2008 2:09 pm

Hadrian glanced over to Torian after his statment, "Ho, ho. You're quite the dark one, aren't you?" he said with a hearty yet sarcastic laugh. The old man looked down at the captured Aeron who appeared to be willing to spill all just to live. It was that kind of trechery that Hadrian dispised but it was a double standard. Hadrian would never give information in an interogation but here he was allowing torture to go on to gain said information.

"It looks like we have a little downtime, so to say. Aron, what are these barbarians like?" He asked. He wasn't able to gain much of the battle tactics because the Aerons were taken out too quickly but it seemed they were usually unprepared and weak.

((Shitty post but oh well))

by **CR22** on Wed Jun 11, 2008 5:42 pm

((Yeah, Pandorym isn't posting, so I'll assume we interrogated him for the location of the chieftain and continued on our merry way. Mention it if your character took the ears of them.))

The limbs of the forest grew thick overhead as they walked, following a path worn by countless years of trappers and the wild men who lived within the dark depths of Kasver Forest. However, it was clearly the barbarian tribe that inhabited the woodland at the moment, with its grizzly decorations of executed traders and failed heroes.

Aron seemed to ignore the disturbing sites as he softly explained the Aeron to Hadrian. "Most people think that they were an offshoot of Nehrum settlers around the year 8000, but some claim that they were survivors of the Cataclysm. I don't really know, I don't really care, I was just hired to kill them." The mercenary climbed over a fallen tree, slipping a little on the icy surface.

"They tend to wear light armor," he continued, "stuff like leather, fur, wyvern scales, whatever they can get their hands on. Occasionally you'll find one wearing chain mail, or even plate armor, but it's really rare according to local mercs. Most of the time, they just sell any metal armor they find, as they hate the weight it puts on them. They like to move fast.

"You'll find a lot with hunting bows and javelins. They don't buy a lot of their food from towns, seeing as most Merans loathe them and Nehrum can't grow any surplus crops anyway, so they hunt. Naturally, it's in their best interest to use the same weapons they kill animals with to kill people. But, I have heard stories of merchants being attacked by Aerons using great axes, claymores, and even dual gutters*, while riding giant wolves and frost wyverns**. But merchants like to lie about the trouble they get in anyway."

By the time Aron had finished speaking, they had come to the outskirts of the camp, just as the captured barbarian had told them. That had been the last thing the man had said, before he bled to death in the snow. Stupid fool, if he had talked faster they could've bound his wrist wounds. "K, hush up, and let's get a view of what we're dealing with."

The camp was arranged in a circular pattern, with a dozen or so crude structures constructed of timber and hides sprawled haphazardly around a central fire. Further up from the structures, a larger, finer tent could be seen, with two torches burning at the entrance. A half dozen women tended the fire, apparently cooking, while an older woman, dressed in a simple burgundy robe, kept an eye on several playing children. No men were in sight, probably out on sentry duty or raiding.

"Well, what's the plan?" Aron asked. He didn't much like the idea of killing women and children, but they were getting paid on a per-ear basis anyway. This would be difficult if they attracted too much attention to themselves; the camp could easily support fifty or so people.

* Gutter: like a short katana. Small, single edged blades.
** Frost wyvern: wyverns indigenous to the northlands. Mean, large, and highly resistant to cold temperatures.

by **BlazingBunny** on Wed Jun 11, 2008 10:24 pm

While she was down in the snow gathering blood she had almost forgotten about the ears. Day took out a small serrated knife and sawed off her kill’s ear. The sound of metal on cartilage was absolutely revolting but all she was thinking about was how useless a person’s ear was. There’s almost no energy in them at all once they’re dead, Day pondered. But at least they’re clean. She plopped the ear in her black sack without hesitation.

As the others were busy with the interrogation she plucked the ears from the other two barbarians and placed them flat in her palm. She handed a bloody ugly ear to Torian and Aron as if it was the gold it represented. “You get what you kill.” She supposed that would work for now. They could split it up more later if people started getting greedy.

Day listened to the Aeron history with mild interest. More intent on making sure they weren't walking into any sort of trap or ambush she kept her eyes and attention to the woods. Talking would become more dangerous because of the situation they saw at the camp.

If there were only women and children at the camp it meant the chieftan, possibly wielding a dual gutter, was out in the woods somewhere. This made her wish she was alone. More people meant they could be spotted or overheard. A mind-link would be useful but she didn’t like the idea of doing it with complete strangers.

“Well, if I was alone I would just sneak in there and poison something in the main tent. But I'm not, so I think we should focus on finding our main target. Who’s a good tracker?” Day whispered as loudly as she would dare. Small ears were good for catching strange noises.

by **Pandorym** on Thu Jun 12, 2008 3:41 am

((Sorry for lack of posting, I'm in Italy at present and I've been having busy days.))

The interrogation finished, Torian dropped the prisoner to the ground and kicked him in the head for good measure. He would probably bleed to death before they even left the area, and even if he survived his camp would be destroyed by the time he reached it. With the necessary information in mind the thief made his way over to the corpse of the man he'd killed, cut his ear from his face with a few knife swipes, and placed it in his backpack. He was more than used to such grisly duties, especially if it meant his getting paid. This done he turned to leave the clearing, heading off in the direction the newly dead barbarian indicated and learning a little history along the way.

The camp was undefended and full of civilians, easy meat for ears if they were as weak as they looked. Regardless it was likely that the rest were merely out on a hunting trip and would return soon. It might be possible to take hostages to keep the enemy at a distance, but that might also attract too much attention. It seemed that, once again, stealth was their greatest asset in the situation. Perhaps, if they could extinguish the campfire, they could truly move undetected. If not, things might be more difficult...

"We could circle around and get inside the huts, then gut the guards and chieftain when they return from wherever they are. They'll be tired, expecting relaxation, and probably won't put up too much of a fight if we time our attacks correctly. The key words are fast and silent. Even so, this whole thing could be a trap. It's suspicious that no one is on guard duty, hidden camp or no..."

by **CR22** on Thu Jun 12, 2008 10:32 pm

"I like your suggestion, swordsman, but there's something odd about that woman in the robe. Notice how it's freezing out, but she's only dressed lightly? I think she might be a spellcaster, but that shouldn't be a problem if we can kill her quickly...do you think you could shoot her, archer? Or perhaps the elderly gentlemen here could slay her with a well-placed spell? Even if she's not dangerous, we'd have to kill her anyway.

"What about the other women, though?" They were far enough away that their voices would not carry, as the Aeron had cleared most of the forest around their encampment for at least a hundred yards, making approaching their target rather difficult. Aron also noted rather large wolf paws in the snow, but didn't bother to mention it, thinking that they were probably just an obscure breed of northern canine.

by **Zeromancer** on Thu Jun 12, 2008 11:26 pm

The information on the Aeron's would come in handy later on. He slowly crouched in the shimmering snow, gazing down at the somewhat empty camp. Not empty in the aspects of numbers, but in men. Everyone seemed to either be women or children. In fact, one woman stood out form the rest, at least to Hadrian. The elderly one dressed in red. These must have been the thieving bandits he had heard of long ago. He had heard of them taking out a group of knights during his prime, more than enough reason to comply and assist the group in taking the Aerons down.

"Indeed, she is a mage and a fairly experienced one at that." Hadrian said lightly to the others. The old man looked up at the sun which still lingered above the horizon. Daylight was fading but Hadrian still had enough time. The light gleaming off the snow covered ground would prove exellent cover. "My eyes arnt quite what they use to be. They're no longer good for aiming at long distances. I can, however, assist the archer by enchanting one of the arrows with my magic. A clock of invisibility would work well and I may be able to steer the arrow if it veers off target. A good shot to the old woman's heart will do the trick..."

Hade turned back to the group, "But are all of these people going to meet the same fate?"

by **BlazingBunny** on Fri Jun 13, 2008 7:21 am

Day knew she could kill the woman if she wanted too, it just didn’t appear to be a good battle plan. The mage must be fairly powerful to guard the entire camp. Either that or the women and children were not completely unprepared.

"Yes, these are not the ones doing the raiding. And if we kill her all the others are going to start screaming. I much rather meet the barbarians split apart in the woods than meet them in full number at this camp”

If the others set their hearts on butchering them all she would be sure to stay back after the first shot. She would not risk her life being in the middle of a clearing when the men showed up. But if they waited until nightfall to come up with a plan, then she would have the advantage whatever plan they went with.

by **dysaniak** on Fri Jun 13, 2008 2:26 pm

Saemon, the pirate, stumbled into a clearing splashed with blood, and the bodies of a few barbarians. He looked around half-heartedly, cussing, his hands on his hips. He fingered the hilts of his swords, and spat onto the ground.

"Blasted, sack-soaked, bag o' rotten-" He kicks at the bodies a bit, shuffling around. A bit more investigating reveals to him the direction in which the team went, and he hikes off after them again.

by **Pandorym** on Sat Jun 14, 2008 9:40 am

"Deal with the bloody woman, then. I don't care how, as long as it's not seen immediately. Maybe our mage friend here can make it look like she seized up? Died of some illness? Just kill her and make her body twitch a bit, no one will come near her or suspect an attack. They're barbarians, they'll probably start sacrificing to their gods to stave off the apocalypse. Now, if there's one thing I despise, it's an open field of battle. These men have big, nasty swords that they'd like to plunge into our guts, and I'm not too keen on trying to hold my heart in with my hands. As for the other women and children, whether they're raiding or not they're providing support to the raiders, cooking for them and the like. Also, they'll produce and raise or become the next generation or bandits. Better to kill them all."

It is difficult for Torian to keep the irritation from his voice, for he would rather be sinking his blades into flesh than standing and talking to a group that fancied themselves to have "morals". In his experience, forbidding oneself from doing anything that wasn't immediately harmful was counterproductive. He'd made a life out of taking things that didn't belong to him, from silver bowls to human heads, and if he'd been bothered by such scruples as a sense of justice he'd be dead already. Gold was gold, and it made the world go round. He wanted to ride the world, not get thrown off of it.

by **BlazingBunny** on Sat Jun 14, 2008 2:11 pm

Day could wait all night, or walk away from this whole mess, but as the light grew redder she knew the barbarians would come back soon. A wizened old mage in a tent would be an unfortunate addition to any challenge. Killing without notice could be done, but from this distance it would test her abilities. The light knight could help but it wouldn’t be the same as working with a fellow Voutaoli.

“Fine, let her suffer a plague…” This spell was slightly messy, but powerful. She would aim it at the mage but it could very well affect some of the weaker in the group. Day sat down cross-legged in the snow and took out the skin of barbarian blood, a bit of cloth, and a smaller pouch full a pungent smelling powder.

Voutaoli spells are a mix of ingredients, ritual, and melee attack. Day placed the small cloth over her palm, poured some of the dark blood in the center, and sprinkled the horrid black powder on the top. The blood bubbled slightly and gave off a smell of burnt rotten flesh. Day then took three arrows from her quiver and dipped them into the thickened blood. She left one arrow out and put everything else away.

Daenyr stood and nocked her cursed arrow. As she held the arrow in her three fingers its form began to darken and fade. “Ready for the attack, any last words or spells?

by **Ferathyst** on Sat Jun 14, 2008 2:20 pm

Ferathyst Erethian rode through the snowy woods, glistening and wet with dusk. He came through a clearing, Galadon jumping over a dead barbarian, continuing to the band of mercenaries. He turned round a corner in the road, and spotted a man of the sea running along the path. Riding up to the traveller, he greeted him.

"Would you like a ride?" He asked the traveller, suspecting that he, too, was out for Aeron blood.

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