Thief! That’s quite the thing to assume at first meeting, despite the wild accusations of guards. “I didn’t do it, I swear.” She makes a quick sign of the Cross as she says the last words, opening her eyes wide and radiating sincerity. It’s the easiest thing to fake, after all. Citizens want to believe that people are basically honest. Her words are technically true. And if God didn’t like technicalities, He never would have created Jesuits.
As for Fate… Father Louis would have had a few things to say about that and so would have Hassan, but she doubts there’s time to get into one of those arguments right now.
“Those guys are going to be back, soon, and they’re going to bring a lot more friends. It’s good to meet you, Ser DeStijl, but I would suggest we save the getting to know yous until we’re somewhere less likely to be invaded by angry men with pointy metal things who aren’t going to be so interested in pleasantries and explanations of how it was all just a misunderstanding.”
By the time Ranar’s short legs carry him back, the horse is looking much better. He nods wordlessly to the girl comforting it and kneels down to examine the wound. It’s in a bit of an awkward location, but after a moment he finally gets it packed and bandaged and sits back to repack his first aid kit - only to see the bandage fall off with the horse’s next deep breath.
His shoulders slumped, Ranar takes a few deep breaths of his own before continuing. “Easy girl, breathe normal, it’ll be fine.” After unpacking and carefully redoing the bandage, the horse seems to be breathing easier and the bandage staying in place. Another moment to see whether he’ll have to redo it again, and then he packs up, stands and walks to the campsite.
Thwip and the beardless one seem to have the downed guard taken care of, so he picks up his gear, readies his crossbow in one hand, and lifts the handle of the looted weapon pile in the other. Ready to go. The shaded moss looks so comfortable, but alas there’ll be no nap today.
He takes a look at the newest of the new arrivals, the one dressed like a guard or a raider, but not really acting like one. “Ey. M-m-may … N-not not a g … I wouldn’t sit for long. Raiders and guards and worse around here. Not the most welcomin’ place for travelers.”
“I am in agreemendt. Let us make sure t’ dead man and the man we haff crippled has effry chance of getting home and ten we shouldt depart with haste. We are not… I don’t know t’ Anglish word. It’s ‘murderhoboz’ in Goblinese.”
Thwip looks over at Eabd’s armory and scans it for a few moments.
“Ranar. A guardsman who canna walk is destined t’ become a beggar witout some magickal healing. And I don’t tink tat a dead guardsman will haff much in t’ ways off safeings for his family. We shouldt leaf tem sometin t’ help pay for tese tings. Ifin anyting, these actions may keep tem from seeing us as mere bandits t’ be hunted doon fir killing one off tere own.”
Thwip looks back at the location of his friend’s new tomb, and then to where the guardsman rode off.
“We haff enouf trouble as it is witout having haff off al-Wazif after us. Mebee t’ mornin star?”
Assuming Ranar will carefully contemplate the loot and what would be acceptable to leave behind, he then addresses his three new companions. “Ifin yi haff a suggestion fir a direction tat won’t get us killedt, mi ears are as good as an elfs. We can discuss tings as we walk”
He pulls out the mace and morningstar, and as an afterthought, also the spear. Snapping a few of pieces off of a fallen branch, he quickly and roughly lashes them to the spear to form a crude makeshift (and rather pointy) crutch. He frowns and shrugs. Even if it doesn’t work, at least he’ll have a really nice (although tall) cane.
She points Northward. “Town’s a few miles thattaway. I was just minding my business when these bâtards came after me, saying I stole something.” Casing doesn’t count as stealing, it’s only theft when you take something away. “Câlisse, they were looking to kill me, and I don’t even know what I did. So, my advice is anywhere but there.” At least until the heat dies down. Revenge is best served cold and when nobody’s looking, like a knife in the back.
Eoin begins to get up after Thwip asked for help, but settles back on to his log when Sasha quickly and deftly steps in.
He settles back and watches the group closely for a minute. A flicker of amusement crosses his face at the exchange between the odd-dwarf and Hayu. There was almost enough real indignation at the casual accusation of thief, and the sincerity radiating off the ragged girl was blistering, but innocent folk don’t jump swearing they didn’t do it quite so quick.
As the talk turns towards moving on, Eoin gets up and joins the others.
“I was headed to Hadaton with a caravan, you could get anywhere you want from there. But whichever direction you go, you mind if I follow on? I got fair turned around after centaurs attacked us and bloody Saint Brendan, I’m not.”
Eoin briefly looks over the unconscious Wazifi and then turns back to the group.
“That one’s waking up soon I think,” he gestures casually at he stirring horseman. “You’ll probably be wanting to know how far his lot are likely to chase you. So, since this one…” he says, flashing a wry grin in Hayu’s direction “…doesn’t know what she did to get them out for blood, and swears she didn’t do it anyway, someone should ask him.”
“If you like, the rest of you could head off before he wakes. I could have a word with him and catch up without too much trouble.”
“Tey already haff one face t’ put on t’ Wanted poster fir killing a ‘koppah’. Hafingk two traveling together would be badt. We shouldt load up are new hoss quickly and go. Tem needing t’ take tere fallen back to t’ town might be t’ best way fir us t’ get to t’ river and a ship before tey catch up with us.”
Thwip shoulders his rifle and ammo bag. He makes for his backpack and provisions.
Immediately after delivering his speech, Thwip’s eyes fly wide open and he snatches a hand to his mouth. His normally smooth green face takes on a mottled pinkish colour.
Turning to the side, he retches copiously upon the ground. Then, with a revolted expression, he begins to pick through the puke, eventually extracting a plain gold ring which he hurriedly rinses off before pocketing.
Eoin’s reply dies on his lips as Thwip sicks up a ring. He looks at the goblin.
Then at the rest of the group.
Then Ranar, and back at the group.
Hie opens his mouth to ask a question, but quickly closes it.
"…I’ll just wait 'till we’re moving to ask."
The sun passes overhead as they walk. The silence screams. As does Thwip’s inner monologue. Perhaps the others can hear it. He choses not to share it. Opening his mouth at the moment isn’t pleasant for anyone.
At the back of the group, Ranar leads the horse, occasionally speaking quietly to it. After awhile, he begins tunelessly humming what he thinks is a happy upbeat traveling song. (Fleeing From Disaster, a song in which the characters’ hometown has been destroyed, the enemy is in pursuit, and they repeatedly change direction as bandits, fires, predators, and demons lie in their path.)
Sasha looks at the horse with some trepidation in case someone suggests they try and ride it, and is relieved that it is only being used as a pack animal.Even being that far away from the ground would be troubling to him. As they walk, he breaks the silence.
“Soldier. I be Sasha DeStijl, Brother Protector of the Dark Places That Dwarves Must Go. I am fated to walk with Ranar, and I am fated to walk with the Heathen, and I am fated to walk with the Thief. This is the way of things and this is the way things are.”
“Fate said naught about you but here you are. Where do you come from and where do you go to and what do you do in between?”
“If I’m here, it must be fate. Maybe Fate said so, but you were fated not to hear?” he replies, radiating sincerity.
"Either way, I’m Eoin Reed, most recently a guard on a caravan headed from Tredroy to Hadaton . We were attacked by a group of centaurs almost two days ago, too many to fight. Me and another guard were riding tail, and got separated from the rest in the fighting.
“Long story short, the rest of the caravan scarpered without us, he took a spear to the back as we faught free, and my horse broke a leg before I realized I’d already shaken the centaurs. If they were even really chasing me in the first place.
By that point I was well and fucking truly lost, if I hadn’t spotted the smoke from your fire I’d still be wandering about like drunken blindman.”
“How about you lot? How’d you all end up fated to walk with Sasha here?”
Hayu shrugs. “I don’t know. Is it really fate? If it is, then he’s depressed about nothing,” she points over at Thwip, “because that guard was always going to die, and nothing could change it. Maybe I am choosing to stay here, because there’s safety in numbers, and I don’t want to walk back to a place where I’m liable to lose my head, because it would be a really stupid choice. There doesn’t have to be a grand plan. Things could be just random, like throwing dice. You can’t know the difference, unless you find a way to make all the choices and somehow see all the outcomes. We only make one and see one. So it might seem like Fate, but isn’t really. Or it is and Fate is a real bâtard about things.”
She glances over towards Thwip. In her experience, goblins tend to be on the clever side. Maybe if he has something to chew on, other than what just happened, he’ll stop thinking about it. “Things happen. We can either use them to make less stupid choices or come up with better solutions, or we don’t. And sometimes it’s not obvious which is which.”
She knows she’s not telling them much about herself, but she doesn’t know if she can even trust these guys. That’s why she still carries her own pack instead of putting it on the horse. And keeps the knife handy: just because these guys saved her doesn’t mean one or more of them won’t get ideas. It pays to stay cautious when you’re a woman in this world.
Thwip hisses. It’s uncustomarily animalistic for him. Something only the goblin warriors of old are said to do during battle.
“Tings happen? Let me tell yi about tose tings. Tey happedt tis morningk so I haff a goodt memory off tem.”
There is iron in his voice. “Me an Ranar were hiredt by a secretive and imperious elf lord t’ crawl through an abandonedt Wazifi vault t’ fetch sum treashure. We hadt some good men with us tat I hadt grown t’ consider my friends. I don’t know ifin tey tot off me t’ same way but tey risked their lifes t’ safe me from certin death thrice over. Ten t’ elf lord’s enemies sent in skilledt assassins who killed tem all. Tat same elf lord died safing mi life. Tere corpses are still cooling in tat vault because we lackt t’ time t’ properly bury tem because we hadt t’ escape b’fore more enemies came.”
He strides towards Hayu. He stops just out of knife range. He’s angry, not stupid. He stares at her with an intensity he never had before the previous twenty four hours. “Ten I hadt t’ murder a stranger on top off tat.”
He continues “I am going t’ find a libarry. I am going t’ findt a wizard tat kin explain what mi research finds. I am going t’ find the person or persons who killed my friends and I’m going t put a stop t tem. Ifin yi want to repay me fir killing a man who did mi no wrong just so yi could avoid the stockade, ten help me t’ do tis.”
He looks away and nods at Sasha and Eoin, “Yi too. And ifin ‘fate’ brought us all togeter just fir the pleasant walk in t’ sun, ten so be it.”
Ranar speaks to no one in particular, looking off to the side. “Got to Tredroy, not much money or supplies. Looked for a job to get some gold to make travelin’ easier. Thought I was signin’ up for simple caravan guard duty or such,” a nod to Eoin. “but as Thwip says, it was a bit more than that.” He looks down and pauses to catch his breath. “Messy… Awful.”
His left hand holds the horse’s reigns while the right hand is furiously rubbing a small stone carving.
“I know little about Fate, but here she put me. And east she wants me to go, I know not why, but that’s the way we’re goin’. So that seems right.”
Hayu stares right back. “I never asked you to fight on my behalf. Those choices are yours. You claim to not want to kill, but that catapult-thing of yours…” she nods pointedly towards Thwip’s gun, “seems as though it has one function only. You either chose to make that, purchase that, or accept it as a gift. Your sins are your own to bear and atone for, not mine. You made your decisions – I do not bear fault for them.” Tabernac, she thinks. Why must some people assume that guards always have the right of it and can never be corrupted? And why do they have to blame someone less fortunate when something goes wrong. What kind of a fool takes a security job, and is shocked when there’s an actual need to defend the thing he’s securing? “However, if you feel that I prove too much of a temptation that causes you to throw aside your morals so easily, then please do say so and I will take my leave.”
“So that’s the heart of it then. The Heathen has a weirding and a geas and we are tied to it, I and Ranar and Thief, aye and possibly you too Soldier. We will walk his path and we will fight his fights and at the end they will sing of us.”
“And do not be sad for that guard, Heathen, it was his fate to bring us together. Without him Thief would not be here and I would still be trying to explain the casting of stones to you. If this is not enough for your dead god then consider why they chased her so far from town? This far from town? Horse against foot? They were after sport of one kind or after sport of another kind. You have saved a foot for your god. Is this not what you are supposed to do?”