The
Hall of the Bear Clan
3/4/10,122 - Broken Lands
By late morning the four were reunited & left Brev was left well behind, disconcerted but unmolested by the occasional eagle patrol the first Quincunx way station is passed without any trouble. As the day draws to a close a plume of smoke is spotted rising above the trail a couple of miles ahead, Illyra conjures a thrush from her pouch of summoning & directs it to spy out what lies ahead.
Fighting the skittish nature of the creature she eventually directs it towards the source of the smoke, several wagons have been overturned & fired, the ground is strewn with bodies, human & animal alike, however it is difficult to establish what has happened before the flighty thrush fades to dust.
Drawing nearer to the aftermath Kilite, Tharla & Molin approach on foot weapons at the ready, other than feasting crows nothing, stirs amongst the corpses. Picking through the debris there are bodies of both plains nomads/cattle herders & V'Duuyek/Highgrass Broad mercenaries under the flag of the Sky City, confusingly however, there are several heavily armed cavalry on a funeral pyre who bare the insignia of knights of the old empire, free city-states as they are now called. The friends can only surmise that the war is spreading otherwise why would these knights are so far from home. Molin, taking time out to empty the pockets of the dead is disappointed, only a part charred silver torc is recovered from one of the knights. The nomad's goods have been strewn across the dirt & either destroyed, looted or burnt. Tharla, conscious of her own vulnerability strips two Lamellar hauberk & skirts from a couple of the despoilers which she packs for later refitting.
As the afternoon rolls on the group put several miles between themselves & the dead continuing towards the Thailot range, still a hundred miles or so distant.
As camp is set for the night the howl of a wolf cuts the air, quickly answered by a second, then a third. At a glance all four make haste to prepare their camp ensuring there are adequate supplies of brush & firewood to last the night. Several times during the night those on watch swear the shadows moved beyond the firelight, however the howls remain distant & towards Brev, no doubt the carrion behind them has provided an easy feast this night.
After an uneasy sleep they continue their journey but are soon peering skyward with apprehension as a dozen or eagles pass high overhead going South, fortunately their passage is not interrupted.
Late on in the second day a cloud of dust can be seen over the trail as a largish group of riders approach.
Moving of the road our companions take shelter under the shade of a copse of fig trees, as the riders, thirty or so, come abreast they wheel as one under a silent command & circle the four watchers, lances held erect. Realising that the odds are stacked against them Kilite takes the initiative &, with the good book of Jirre held aloft in one hand & the staff of H'ajorcy in the other, strides forward greeting the mercenaries in the name of the true lady & advising of what lies ahead. The captain of the muster immediately dispatches six riders ahead of the main party.
Taken aback by the priest's acknowledgement the captain struggles to pursue his line of questioning of the travellers, Kilite in turn gives the mercenary band his blessing & the captain finds himself automatically genuflecting & leading his unit onward. As the riders depart the others congratulate Kilite on his handling of the matter, later however Kilite feels a slight discomfort at using Jirre's name in such a manner.
As the afternoon runs its course the next way station comes into view, confident now, Molin intends to seek advise from its guard as to what they can expect on the road ahead. As he draw level however it is immediately clear that all is not as it should be. The door to the squat tower stands ajar; inside all appears as if mid meal the guards have disappeared. Looking up, the trap door to the second level is shut, ominously Molin mounts the ladders, finding it barred from above & his calls unheeded he batters it open. Poking his head above the floor he is greeted by a grizzly sight, the rush covered roof has been torn asunder & the two occupants of the tower have met with a gruesome end, the room is spattered with gobbets of flesh & blood, the bodies literally having been torn apart. Before returning outside to tell others of what lies above Molin casually scoops a few coppers into his hand from the table as well as the guards uneaten breakfast. Kilite, doubting Molin's storey pops his head above the boards, some minutes later he'd rather that he hadn't.
As evening descends a nervous camp is set with much looking to the skies above, however despite their consternation neither eagle rider or anything else disturbs their sleep.
With the Thailot foothills drawing ever closer it is a relieved party that break camp the following morning, their mood soon changes however as a rider is noted fleeing from the direction of Brev being pursued by six or so riders. Unable to avoid either party the four pair off to either side of the track. Without thought to who or why, the four gird for battle & with the exception of Molin commence to target the pursuers as soon as they are in range, Illyra attempts befuddlement, Tharla utilises her crossbow, whilst Kilite launches an overwhelming bout of flame from his staff incinerating both one of the riders & his mount, unfortunately Tharla's shot goes high whilst Illyra's sorcery is shrugged aside.
Splitting their charge, two riders, now identified as V'Duuyek, each couch lances & charge Illyra/Kilite & Tharla/Molin, whilst the fifth rider continues his pursuit of the solitary rider. Luck seems to be with the friends as both Molin cuts a rider from the saddle & Tharla hamstrings a dog catapulting its rider to the ground, neither of which take any further interest in the events unfolding.
On the other side of the road, Kilite & Illyra's luck is shared, Kilite lashes a second gout of flame at point blank range, the rider screams in agony, his dog burnt, scarred & routed, dragging him away by a stirrup caught foot. Illyra, in her haste slashes wildly, her miss-timed blow does nothing but lose her her grip on her sword, which disappears over her head. The rider, grinning, lance held low, overruns Illyra catching her a formidable blow to her midriff. Bowled over she miraculously gasps for breath knowing that such a blow should have brought only death. Desperately clutching for her dropped sword, she rises only to see her opponent veering away across the scrubland.
Moving to aid the lone rider Tharla & Molin watch as he topples from his dog under the flashing blade of the fifth rider who then veers away to join his companion, rolling the fallen rider over they find it is already to late to save his soul.