Union! Game Thread

As Tarian is ready to get the drop on the archer on the balcony, a big boom erupts and the aged wood splinters, raining dust on Tarian inside the windmill, dropping the archer.

Taking its chance, the bird flies off, and a few minutes later, you gather the surviving bandits, bringing them together towards the foot of the windmill. Arc and Thia, with the combat over, you both can't stop from shaking, as the adrenaline rushes through your system, heart pounding in your throat. The feeling was both terrifying and exhilirating.

You quickly free the two hostages, and though pretty roughed up, with one of them having suffered a conscussion, they are alive. Thia, you check on the bandits, and quickly patch up the archer to prevent her from dying due to bloodloss. The big human had passed out, but still had a pulse, and after a while, the druid came to, surprised to find himself in chains. The goblin had surrendered to Arc without a struggle, and has been whimpering since.

Checking on the orc though, there's no sign of life. Thia, please give me a wisdom save.

Thia Wis Save: 10

Thia, you start to shake, the adrenaline subsiding. You come to realise that your actions, and likely also your inexperience, is responsible for the death of this orc. Sure, he was attacking you, but all the others seemed capable enough to subdue or wound their opponents. What did that make you? 

What is the rest doing?

Arc, would secure all the ropes of the prisoners, before attempting to speak to them all. "Now that we're all feeling much more amicable, let's talk. Firstly, how about we get some introductions done, my name is Arcius." He then motions to the prisoners and leans up against his Eldritch Cannon that is at his side, waiting for them to speak, or otherwise do something. He pays particular attention to the goblin that showed up from the woods, adding, "Oh, and are you with them?" He motions to the ones in the tower.

Corti walks over to the hostages and sits down with them. She adjusts her skirt around her and then extends a hand, "Hello there! I'm Corti. I'm very sorry about all this, but I can heal you if you'd like."  At that she pulls her lute into her lap, "We'll get you back to your village real soon, so you can heal up there too."

Tarian hefted the body of the orc into the cart. “Sorry for the rough treatment,” she grunted to the body she slid off her shoulders, “but we gave you folks the opportunity to negotiate. You can complain to your boss in whatever afterlife you believe in soon enough. I’m sure the village folk’ll be sending him down to meet you shortly.” Tarian offered the surviving bandits a sharp look.

Seeing the bandits bound, the hostages freed, and each group appropriately attended to, Tarian half-raised a hand and started toward the windmill again. “There’s a second floor up there. They probably have some of the villagers’ belongings that they’re going to want back. I’ll go check it out.”

Arc, going over the prisoners, securing all the ropes, you also frisk them for any items they might have on them.

You find a bunch of coins, mostly copper "reds". The dwarven scout has a hand drawn picture on her of a dwarven male with a forked beard, and a young dwarven girl. The lines are faded, and you can barely make out the faces. The goblin has three rings on her, strung up on a necklace. They look familiar to you, though you're sure they're not family signet rings.

The goblin snarled: "Aye, I'm with Brelak, only man ta ever respec' me. Guess tha's over now... Name's Lhupo, an' I guess I don' need ta tell ya why I'm out 'ere." As the goblin, bruised but otherwise mostly unharmed is talking with Arc, Corti is tending to the large and mysterious human, and the dwarven scout who are both in pretty rough shape. The dwarven woman does not say a word. Neither does the large man. Slowly coming to, Brelak, in chains, but otherwise healthy, snaps at Lhupo: "Shush you, wha' ye tellin' them 'bout ye for?  They's not gun' kill ya, if they wan'ed tha' you'd be in tha cart like Brughor."

Arc, you get the sense that you won't get much out of the bandits as long as they are together.

Brandt, you gather the weapons of the group: a gnarled quarterstaff from Brelak, a chipped and rusted greataxe, a short bow for the goblin and a warbow for the scout, both not pretty weapons, but well kept. You also find two hidden daggers, both blunted and chipped. Near where the large human went down, you find a longsword. It's nothing particular, but you can tell that the owner has taken care of it, likely for months or years. You can even make out some marks from the whetstone, meaning it's been sharpened at least a dozen times.

Tarian, the second storey is rickety, but you manage to get up there and have a look around. The living quarters for the bandits are sparse, nothing beyond a couple bed rolls and a straw mattress for Brelak, but you do see one medium wooden chest, with no visible lock on it. Inside, you find a near empty pouch with a couple of coins inside, two stoppered flasks with a thick liquid inside, some nicely packaged crossbow bolts, probably belonging to a fine crossbow standing in the corner, as well as a silver amulet on a leather string. Inspecting it, you see that it bears initials on the back, and although the leather string is worn, the silver looks pristine. Grabbing a length of rope, you carefully lower the chest, and grab the crossbow, before heading back out to the group.

Arc notes the picture, and how they speak and interact with each other, coming up with a small plan. Rather than separate them, he'll play off them all.

Arc nods to Brelak, "True, we could and can kill you all. But we haven't. One part of that is because, I like to be a nice guy....but as you're goliath friend over in the cart learned....my friends aren't as nice. Not to mention, I'm sure you all can imagine what the guard will do with you if we handed you over." He walks past Lhupo, "And while I can't respect your actions of taking hostages, or shooting at me, I can respect comradery, and standing for each other. So, in honor of your fallen friend, I'm giving you all the chance, to save, not only your own hide, but the life of those sitting next to you as well." He pulls up the picture of the dwarf man and girl, placing it back in the lap of the dwarven woman, letting the roughly drawn faces look back up at her, "I'm sure you're all doing this for a reason, and that you don't want to waste away or suffer at the hands of the guard." He then takes a step back, looking at all of them again, before opening his arms up, in his final polite offer, "So? Who wants to save their friends? Who wants to live?....or do you want to talk to bad cop."

(carrot and stick xD)

"Don't listen to 'im! We're far 'nuff out from 'rock that they don't care, and the village don't pose no threat!", the druid spat out. Weighing up her options, Lhupo the goblin starts speaking, much to the anger of Brelak. "Look, i's kinda hard answerin' yer questions when yer not askin' any. As far as names go, I'm Lhupo, the ol' man's Brelak, the sullen silent one's Copper, an' the big boy over there, he's new. Think 'e said his name was Durnn or sumthin'". At the mention of his name, the large human shoots her an angry glare.

Brandt, looking at the armour on Durnn, you're quite sure that it's a uniform, even if identifying markers like rank insignia and buttons have been torn off, leaving mostly just a padded linen coat. The design is unfamiliar, nothing you've seen in your past.

He squats in front of Lhupo and nods, smiling kindly, "Thank you, well since you're being amiable, let me start by asking, are you lot comfortable? If so, how about you tell me why it is you took those boys hostage, what exactly are you hoping to get out of all this? And, if you could, where are you all from?"

Tarian dragged the chest over to the cart and hefted it in, shoving it next to the fallen Brughor. She turned to Brandt, content to let Arc take control of the interrogation. “You know,” she started a bit too loud, intending to be overheard, “I kind of wonder what they’re going to do with these folk when we get back. Do you think we’ll be asked to finish what we started?” Tarian thumbed at the body in the cart with a broad motion over her shoulder that would be easily visible by the group.

She looked toward Corti and Thia, tending to the wounds of others before tending to their own, and her expression soured. There are plenty in this world who are better people than I. Corti and Thia, they didn’t deserve this. If I could prevent this from happening again…  “Well, maybe I wouldn’t mind.” Tarian tossed back her cloak and placed her palm firmly, visibly, on the pommel of her sword as she cut a cold stare toward Brelak and his gang.

As the adrenaline subsided, her shaking became more apparent and so did the pain. Now dizzy from the pain, Thia will drag her feet to move closer to the cart. As the battle outside came to an end, a new one started up inside her mind. A surge of conflicting emotions would begin to overwhelm her thoughts. She's coming to the realization that she, the medic, was the one to have taken a life. And, she did it without even considering to spare his life in any way... Nausea would slam her stomach the same time her broken rib would throb, causing the artificer to double over as if she were about to wretch. "Barf." She'd mutter to herself as she'd swallow hard, refusing to lose her stomach. Thia will hold herself up in the bent-over position with one hand on the cart and the other wrapped around herself to brace her wounded side. She'd close her eyes to focus on breathing through the nausea and dizziness, only for her to get a whiff of the orcs burnt flesh. Gag.

It would all feel a blur to her as the others whipped around the scene professionally taking control of the situation while she seems to struggle with the reality of taking a life. It was in defence... he showed no remorse... but Tarian could have handled herself... The artificer would eventually slump herself down against the cart, unable to hold herself up any more. Thia was undeniably thankful for the other's experience. Arc seems to have broken his silence and has the bandits rounded; Tarian's returned with some goods and supporting Arc's interrogation; and Corti's taking care of their hostages with a smile. But where was Brandt? Surely their 'old man' was fine...

Eyes wide, most likely still in shock from the physical pain and mental anguish, it was time she tended to her own wound and work on pulling herself together. She was beginning to feel more like a fool the longer she was stuck in her daze. Thia will reach for some supplies to begin tending her wound, refusing to shed a tear or wail in pain. They'll think you're weak...

Brelak hisses: "What would a pampered little shite like you know of why men fight, huh? Who'd ya think bled for yer fine cloth?" Lhupo chimes in: "Don't lie Brelak, you been refused from the Scouts, the  fightin' you seen been fer yer own dime, before ye came out here, livin' off the land..." Brelak shot her another angry glare, deeply wounded in his pride. Lhupo continued: "Look man, you seem a'ight, an' it ain't like we can call the shots no more, so if it'll make things go easier for us... Brelak went up north, ta fight, only, they din't take him... too old. Too proud ta quit, he became a merc, fightin' for the Thran. All I knows is tha he met Copper back there, but she's been all quiet like, an' since both ended up 'ere, I take it they didn't leave voluntarily. The big guy in the cart an' I, we 'rockers, an' as skins we used to the hard life. Figured it'd be easier ta live out 'ere an' profit off the fat cats, than grind yerself to a pulp, workin' in the Forge." 

At that last bit, you notice the hateful flare in her eyes at your family's crest emblazoned on your coat, and as she mentions being ground to a pulp, you see her hand unconsciously going toward her left leg. She'd been hobbling, but you assumed that was because of the fight.

As you rest in silence, she continues: "Durnn there, don't know what brought 'im here, or what his reasons are. He's only been wit' us fer two weeks. In fact, this whole thing 'ere was his idea."

Thia, you manage to regain composure, for now. The rib hurts like hell when you're breathing, but it looks like you didn't puncture anything.

Corti continued a one-sided conversation as she helped the hostages, mentioning the child's help in finding them, telling jokes, and occasionally singing. All in all, she was happy with how the conflict had played out. After pushing Tarian to let them come help, she would have never forgiven herself if something had gone wrong.

As Corti finishes tending to the hostages, she stands and stretches, Thia will be able to do more, but that should be alright for now. She looks over to Arc and Tarian, and smiles, somewhat grimly. Their methods might be harsh, but they'd get the job done, and it seems like they had things under control at the moment. Corti spots Thia by the cart and remembers with a pang of guilt that she had been injured. "Thia! I'm so sorry, I forgot you were hurt. Guess you just looked so tough that I couldn't tell," She flashes her friend a grin, and pulls out her lute, playing a quick, lively tune to cast Healing Word. "You did really well back there, by the way, you really were brave. There, that should help a bit," She finishes casting the spell and sets her lute aside, "How are you holding up?"

Brandt takes the longsword, since he gave Colette his rapier and could likely benefit from having a melee weapon other than a dagger. He then heads over to the one identified as Durnn. "Who'd you fight for? Don't say nobody, you might be able to fool the kids by tearing off your insignia and even the buttons from that jacket, but I can still tell that it was standard issue from some army."

The large man sets his jaw, but remains quiet. You can tell though that he’s stressed, with small beads of sweat forming in the crease of his neck. Upon closer inspection, you spot a strange necklace. Grabbing it, you make out the imperial arms- there's no doubt in your mind, the man before you served with the Garronian Legions.

Brandt looks over the necklace. "You fought for the Garronians, eh? Makes sense that you'd be involved in a racket like this, the Garronians sure loved to terrorize citizens and steal from them."

"You  have no idea! You Brelish dogs did far worse in Cyre than we ever could! By the end it got so bad, we were little more than marauding bands of brigands, looting and stealing just to feed ourselves. I was in the cavalry, but we didn't have a single horse left for the last three years, after we ate them all. And with Garronian fields burning back at home, there wasn't anything left to return to either. Many of my comrades broke, just wanted to hurt people more than they were hurting. Me, I was sick of serving under people willing to let that happen. And then came that advisor of hers as well, some buraucrat arcanist type, thinking he knew best how to run the war. It was a hard decision, but at the end there, it was real easyt too. I didn't fight just to fight, I was once a proud Garronian, willing to make something for myself. I gave nearly twelve years to the legion. But ever since Thelamyra, all we did was chase the personal glory of the Bronze Marshal. Now we're here, on Brelish soil, but the war's over. And still we're not going home. And still we go hungry. I wasn't having it. Before I do of starvation as a shell of the man I once was or that I once wanted to become, I'd take my life in my own hands again. Sure, you may judge me, but I'm telling you, there's things that you think are beyond the realm of the possible- well, they become a lot more possible once you've known real hunger!"

Everyone is listening in stunned silence, as Durnn speaks in clearly enunciated words and educated, but deadly quiet tone. 

 "You know, it would be much easier to feel sad about what happened to you and your pals if it weren't for the Murderous March." Brandt kneels down and pats Durnn on the shoulder in some fake gesture of friendship. "I really hope that the villagers you and your buddies tried to loot and terrorize have a better view of you than me, but I've got the weird feeling that today's not your day."

"Look, I'm a deserter, the best that awaits me back at home is a slow death in a prison camp. I'd rather face the ire of the villagers. You can just hope that you don't run into the Marshall soon, because things could only have gotten worse for them, and a whole bunch of desperate men are dangerous."