Fall of Whitefeather - RPLOG
Participants
Date
31/8/479
Log
The ride to Whitefeather uneventful, the cart carrying the sellswords working its way through the now muddy road as the rain continued to come down in sheets on their heads. A heavy wind blows, nearly taking the ox's hat in its clutches as he steers the cart over off into the soft grass. "Whitefeather is just up the road a bit more, I'll stick here and wait to see how what you fine." Came their comment as they pat down their stead, clutching their cloak closer to themself against the wind as he does.
Within the village itself the cleanup is still underway, beings in rugged leather clothing working to pull the dead out from the open as cries come from the cages. "Shut up you!" Snaps Biggs, the big ram giving a glare at some of the villagers, before turning to Sabriel. "I still think we should just kill them and loot em."
Kurnoc, for the most part was silent and kept to himself on the trip, looking over reports-checking his various weapons and..keeping hidden under his rather large cloak. "so... silent, no news or Information from the village?" the wolf sighs. "This sounds dreadful-how do people just.. vanish?.." he sighs again, mumbling something to himself afterwards. as he gets out of teh cart he looks down the path and then pulls his hood up to block the rain. "well then...Are we all ready?" he asks.
Fenris hops lightly down from his place by the driver. "Try to stay warm, Damien," the tiger tells the ox as his shimmering otter golem leaps down after him, "We will be back soon." The heavy rain patters off his long, heavy coat and strange uniform as he looks up the hill. "No time like the present," he says pleasantly, striding away, his golem frolicing at his heels, "Come on Kurnoc! Angus promised you could keep up!"
Shira hops off the wagon and groans. The small mouse has pulled a leather coat over her armored clothing to help fend off the rain, but it was still annoying. At least her targets are likely to be wet if it comes to a fight. Her fingers drum silently on the hilt of her sword. "Yeah, yeah. As ready as I am gonna get, so lets get it over with."
Sabriel looks exasperated, to say the least of it. His armor is splattered with blood and his face bears a grim, heavy expression, though after he runs a gauntleted palm over it, he adopts stone cold clarity. "As much as I'm sure it would please you," he murmurs, no small amount of disdain for the ram's bloodlust seeping into his tone, "we cannot simply crack open their skulls to take what we want from their minds." He gazes across the village, acknowledging his place in space and time for the first time in what felt like years. Still... "Bring out the tribute, please. They'll be here soon." He sighs softly and turns his attention back to the ground, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Assuming this whole kingdom isn't blind and deaf."
"People vanish, sir, when someone does not want them to be found." Leonidas replies in a low rasp, a hint of what may be amusement entering his voice. "We are quite surprised such a shady individual as youself would not be aware of this; hiding one's appearance is often a... Useful start in being unnoticed, after all."
The glint of worn but well-kept metal shines from his knife, the olm inspecting the blade with an implacable dispoition before it disappears back into its hiding place. "Bloodlust always did lead to an early grave for your kind. We do not understand your zeal."
Kurah scoots to the edge of the wagon and pulls his cloak over himself tight, bits of metal rattling underneath as he hops out. "Wishful thinking, thinking this will be quick." he replies, shielding his eyes from the rain and looking around, giving a low whistle. "People vanishing is one thing, villages vanishing is... something else entirely."
It's quiet, to quiet. Not even the creatures of the woods are heard as the path leads to...barricades, hastly erected wooden barricades that look to have been torn down, blood slowly being washed off the hard wood from the heavy rain. Weapons lay scattered to and fro, the mud churned up from many boots but there are no bodies visible as buildings start to become visible, single floor thatched homes erected to keep the weather at bay.
Biggs grunts, waving a hand at a few of the bandits with them to come close. "Head to church, grab the presents we saved." He mutters to them, grabbing the ear of the Ferret he was talking to and making sure to pull just enough for it to ache. "And if I find a scratch on them you'll lose more then an eye today."
"yes, I know, right away, sir" Kurnoc speaks, in reply to fenris, padding along after him. "There's a diffrence between one being wanting to hide and an entire village vanishing. " he nods, Frownigna s they get closer. "My-this looks wonderful." the wolf Grabs a dagger under his Cloak, watching around carefuly. "Anything you'd Like me to do, Fenris, sir?" he asks, alert.
"Spread out, move quickly," Fenris instructs, slowing at the ruined barracades, "Don't make the first move." The tiger's eyes scan the area. "Last time I saw a town like this they had all been taken by the Craige. The time before, by shadows. . ."
Shira squints at the three beings with her. "Are you all some kind of team or something like that?" The rodent picks up one of the smaller weapons that are laying around, inspecting it for a moment. The casual inspection does not take long and she redirects her attention to the surrounding area, especially the village before them, squinting ahead as she walks.
Sabriel plants the tip of his blade in the dirt and mud, resting his hands on the pommel and gazing over the rainy horizon in waiting. He closes his eyes and lets the rain beat down on him, feels it against his face, listens to the sound it makes hammering into the boiled leather plates of his armor. For a moment, he's gone, somewhere else, somewhere better and further away from here. Much further, indeed. He rolls his shoulders and shakes himself back to reality, looking over to the cages and the terrified beings inside, then to Biggs. He gives his Heavy clan compatriot a very appraising look, as though re-evaluating his worth for what must be the hundredth time just today. "Please ensure that none of the more powerful... mathematicians, such as they are, are mingling with the rest of the cabal." He pauses, remembering something important. "You did have them checked for quills, of course...?"
"Villages vanishing is not unachievable nor unheard of either. Surely you must remember the shadow war? Perhaps Heartfall? Or any of the number of your frontier towns to have been cut off and lost over time. Recall, if you would, this entire planet 'disappeared' as well." Leonidas replies to the Raven and Wolf with a predatory grin. "Our people were most adept at snuffing out small villages, erasing them from the map overnight. Do you believe your kind are any less capable of such? It is all a matter of planning, and knowing your target. Such an enterprising being as the one to orchestrate this sort of attack would, of course, be quite... An asset. Ambition and cunning are qualities too many of your kind lack in concert, we have found. Content with mediocrity, disbelieving their ability to learn. We can only imagine it comes with your... Transience." Still wearing the same predatory grin, the olm silences himself and slinks along, seemingly shifting between shadows.
Shira's assertion is met with little more than a smirk. "Maybe. You may make that judgment for yourself." Pulling the hood of his own cloak over his head, water pattering off the oilskin garment (not that he seemed to care about the rain much to begin with), he takes his bow in hand and nocks an arrow with a look of mild distaste. The weapon more reminiscent of something the church would issue than a shadow would pick up for use, should anyone choose to examine it more closely. The olm remains silent, observing the area, the others and waiting for any movement to track.
Kurah's eyes narrow as they fall from the barricades to the blood being rinsed away into the mess of mud and fallen weapons before them, kicking a hilt on the way by and quietly reaching beneath his vest to fiddle with his necklace. "Do me a favor and don't explain what the Craige is." He runs his fingers along the barricade, looking it over briefly before moving past - slowly and cautiously, one hand on the hilt of his saber. The raven looks back in the mouse's direction and shakes his head. "Not I. I'm a Freesword who likes to travel, nothing more. Have to say, this... isn't really what I had in mind when I heard a pleasant name like 'Whitefeather' though."
Angus The town is a ghost, not a single soul visible within view as the silence seems to take hold of the place. If one where to take a peak in the buildings as they pass they'll see them upheaveled, dinner still sitting on the table as if whoever attacked did so right as the poor beings were sitting down for supper.
Biggs snorts, holding up a burlap sack that he had tied to his belt. "Every quill we could find, on em, and those that they hid. As for the spellslingers, we'll take care of that." HE answers, just as a the men he sent return with three beings bound, their hands bound by rope behind their back, crude muzzles fashioned to keep them silent as they are forced to their knees before Sabriel.
Kurnoc nods slowly. "If this were Shadows, we would've known-you.. didint know waht you were signing up for?" the wolf scowls under his hood at the Raven. "Fenris, sir.." he asks, grabbing his bow (also hidden under that large cloak.) "what do you suggest?" he asks, glancing around and at the other freeswords. "we are not in the... best of positions.." he frowns.
Fenris shoots a frown over at Leonidas, but with the sounds of talking coming from ahead he decides to let the talkative shadow be. He shakes his head at Shira. "I'm a musician," he says, then breaks into a run toward the voices ahead. "Cover me," he says to Kurnoc, sauntering out into the open, his hands jammed in his pockets and his silvery golem scampering around at his feet. "I know I was not invited to the party," he calls out, walking along calmly, "But I'm hoping you haven't filled out the guest list completely yet."
Shira rolls her eyes as Fenris darts off. "I was about to mention that they are likely carrying ranged weapons, but there he goes." She sighs. "Let me give you guys a bit more of an edge in case we have to fight those guys up ahead." With that the tiny mouse magician focuses on some math in her head, which aims to plant subtle runes on the weapons of her allies, causing them to electrify their targets.
Sabriel takes the sack from Biggs and opens it halfway, glancing at its contents, then nodding once. "I don't look forward to sorting the fakes out," he mutters under his breath to no one in particular, taking a moment to tie it to his own belt and patting it to assure himself of its security there. He steps forward to one of the tied up beings, the one between the others, a raccoon. He firmly grabs the side of their head, turning it to check behind their ear, noticing another quill tucked away there. This one, however, was exactly where it belonged, and he releases the raccoon with a less-than-gentle shove backwards, quickly retaking his place at his sword. "The stage is set. Now we need only the actors to arrive." He follows this bit of flowery talk with a more graceless grunt of annoyance. "They're late. Were I anyone else-" Interrupted by the shouts of Fenris through the rain, he holds a hand up- the men near him quiet to a total hush, besides the achey draw of bowstrings. As he listens, he can't help but smirk. "Au contraire, mon ami," he shouts out his reply in a Creator tongue. "I find myself short on party-goers! I assure you, however, that I mean no harm to you, assuming you mean no harm to me or mine!" He looks at the carnage surrounding him and huffs. "I suppose you'll want a touch of context, though first, I need to know- did the Good King or those in his employ send you?"
Leonidas maintains his grin, turning it directly towards Fenris. The Olm remains in position, keeping an eye on the aspiring diplomat, murmuring silently in a clearly pantomimed imitation of a being, "How quaint. Proving a point already."
The olms eyes glint, clearly enjoying a private joke as he watches the procession with with renewed interest, his bow finding itself drawn aimed at the group though it is not entirely clear who specifically. The olm simply lies in wait, watching and listening.
"I don't think any of us knew exactly what we'd be walking in on. A bloody mess wasn't really what I was-" Kurah cuts off and falls silent on hearing another voice. He hangs back and creeps forward slowly, looking between Fenris and the other tiger, partially drawing the blade and eyeballs the flickering runes. The raven's grip tightens at the reassurance that they weren't to be harmed, less than reassured by the ambiance... but he listens quietly for now.
Bazalt Frowns and nods, ready to use him bow at a moments notice, For no The wolf jsut does as asked by Fenris, covering him and not much else-What the other freeswords did was up to them.
Fenris flicks an ear at Sabriel's use of the Creator dialect. "Could be," Fenris responds to the other feline's question, using the same Creator tongue, "You know how freesword contracts are. You never know who is footing the bill until they hand you the bag. We're just here to make sure our friends here in Whitefeather are alright." He looks around casually at all the weapons pointed his way. "Are those all necessary?" he asks, "I'm just one being. What is it you want?"
Shira is looking around the area, searching for a relatively high building with a good view of the individuals Fenris is talking with, quickly giving up on something actually high, the tiny being catapults herself onto the roof of one of the huts around them with a gust of air magic and quickly lays down flat on her belly, squinting at the scene before her.
Sabriel slowly nods, turning to give his archers a very telling look, to such a degree that following his eyes would give away their positions. They relax their stances after only a moment's hesitation, though the tension in the air hardly dims. His attention returns to Fenris. "Freeswords will have to do, I suppose." He holds out his palm in gesture to the three muzzled and tied in front of him. "It's not about what I want, it's about what you want, and I assume you want to return home with something impressive." He smiles almost sincerely. "I'd prefer it isn't my head, so I'll give you three others." He sweeps that hand out in a general gesture to the whole town. "This place was, and as long as they are still here," he jabs a finger towards the cages full of beings, "is infested with a sickness of the mind." He takes a deep breath and points at the raccoon in front of him. "A cabal dedicated to the Scholar decided that the quiet front of Whitefeather would be a perfect place to study in peace. They were correct," his voice rings clearly through the hum of the rain, "until one of their fresher faces decided it was a good idea to steal something of mine. An artifact, which I have retrieved with no small struggle, as you can see." He grimaces. "I took as many as I could alive, but not all of them would give up so easily, and I found that even MOST of them are quite skilled with your 'mathemagic' and very keen to use it to protect their... 'home'. I lost quite a few brave men today. Not well, I might add."
Leonidas rolls his eyes - or perhaps more accurately, attempts to; the gesture somewhat stilted and inchoate. Nevertheless, the bow lowers. Those receptive of shadow tongue in the area hear in their minds the Olm's rasping voice; "We wonder, for all the virtues beings preach of, why they would seem so intent to disregard them for petty conflict. And they would have us seen as monsters. The hypocrisy is delicious, truly. Savor it, if you have the faculties to understand it. Their minds are truly a fragile thing, to grow ill so easily and break so quickly."
Kurah frowns deeply at the explanation... but a quick glance at the others present makes his grip on his weapon loosen a little with a heavy exhalation. He had a niggling suspicion that he would be outnumbered in still wanting the tiger's head at this point. The raven takes note of the flick of Sabriel's eyes though, and remains at the ready until Fenris weighs in on the turn of events.
Sabriel recieves dirty glares from the Raccoon, the accusations making him grit his teeth behind the muzzle. Biggs just crosses his arms over his chest, watching the situation unfold. Many of the men seem a little tense, their finger still on their weapons as they follow the conversation.
Bazalt Quriks a brow "The scholar? Out here, Not suprising , if you think about it..." Kurnoc pauses and looks around, frowning slightly. Surely these people didnt deserve this.. but.. If they stole something of someone else's? He shakes his head and sighs. In this situation, the decision wanst his. but this... Artifact.. What could that be?
Fenris continues to speak in the Creator dialect. "The Scholar?" he asks, "Who is that?" He continues to saunter toward Sabriel and his group. "What could this scholar have stolen from you that justifies you in overrunning an entire town? Surely they didn't ALL steal from you?" The tiger's eyes move over the bound villiagers, trying to determine the state of the people.
Shira remains in her hiding spot for now, quietly listening in to the conservation below her, her eyes searching for spots that could be good for ambushes and for hidden archers and the likes.
Sabriel shifts his weight onto one leg as he explains, "The Scholar is, as I understand it, one of the... What do you lot call them- one of the Old Ones who are so keen on bothering the fair citizens of this planet. Or so I'm told." His eyes narrow, and he glances down to the mud with something resembling shame in his eyes. "It... pains me to admit that not all of them were connected to the thief, but all of the ones you found dead protected the thief or their other compatriots who've offered the corrupt court their minds and souls. I made a sincere effort to preserve the lives of these people where I could." His gaze returns to Fenris, now stalwart as ever. "I am not a blood-thirsty madman. Nor do I fancy myself a hero, for that matter. I'm in search of knowledge, and these people have seen fit to take a piece of mine away. I retrieved it, and then some. I hope that is at least an understandable position to take." He gestures once more to the cages. "They are who surrendered. I'm sure at least a few of them aren't cultists, which is why I am seeing that they are processed and released- or not- accordingly."
Evidently having had enough of idling, Leonidas slinks back around the houses, staying out of the troop's line of sight and making use of the population's absence from their homes. The unlocked doors prompt another rudimentary display of amusement, the olm slinking into one to examine the building for anything unusual before moving to the next, the conversation being listened in on with diminished interest for the time being.
Fenris looks over the bound villagers. "Then you should accompany us to Firmament," he says pleasantly, hands still deep in his pockets, "I am sure that the crown will want to express thanks for the way you have protected its subjects." The tiger looks over the suspected cultists. "But I think you are lying to me," he continues, "How do I know that these are cultists for this. . . Old one? Is that what you called it?"
Shira uses some air magic to throw her voice, masking her location, as she announces to Sabriel: "You know, if you are so friendly and all, you should tell that archer of yours to unnook that arrow and come out of hiding. Since we are all friends here, right?"
Sabriel reaches behind the ear of the raccoon and swipes the quill out, holding it up for a moment as it droops in the rain. "This is your proof. Those in Firmament who are more familiar with the beings I speak of will be able to identify it for you, if there is not a Freesword among you who can. In fact," he quickly removes the pouch of quills from his belt and pockets the one he took from the raccoon's ear, "I'll do you about a dozen or so better. Some of these are likely fakes- there's no shortage of quill feathers in this place, but I know for certain a few of them work." He grips the pouch a little tighter when he hears Shira's voice. "That would be unwise of me, in the event that your companions do decide to take my head. At the very least it would sour my afterlife if I went unavenged." Sabriel extends his palm, offering the pouch to Fenris but not stepping closer. "You can take the majority of the quills as proof of the corruption rooted here, and these three in front of me for questioning and, eventually, further proof. I have no doubt they will be as difficult as possible." He frowns deeply. "Enough blood has been spilled today. Please."
Stopping in a house bearing burned and overturned trapping after a short search, Leonidas stops for a moment as Shira throws her voice across the area with a shake of his head.
Taking a look around the room, he quickly checks for any locked doors or the master bedroom of the small house. After all, it was magicians who had resisted - might as well see if there was anything to hide stowed away, and check the most likely places first. The continued banter from outside draws his attention again for a few moments, taking somewhat more note of the mention of Scholar's quills before his examination continues in earnest.
Behind locked door and and Board, lies one item of intrest, a shrine dedicated to the Scholar himself. It's evident and obvious for anyone who knows of the old one, quills and ink pots gathered around it very neatly, rolls of parchment with scribbles upon them, possibly secrets to give to the Scholar at a later date.
Kurnoc shifts slightly, anxious about all of this, The scholar, The People.. the...bloodshed..And Fenris was.. playing it safe, from the looks of things, Still all of this jsut raised more Questions-and that Shadow had Slinked off too... "damn it all.." he mumbles, Tail flicking under his cloak in agitation.
Fenris has managed to walk up to within an arms length of Sabriel and his goons. He does not take the sack. "Then you won't mind coming along to tell us all about it," he says, his little silvery golem capering around his feet, "You and your men are welcome to come with us back to Firmament." It is more than apparent at this point that the tiger does not really trust a being with a brute squad who claims he killed a third of a town's population for their own good. "I'm guessing from your. . . accent that you are not from around here."
Sabriel articulates very slowly and calmly, as though speaking to a child. "I would prefer it not come down to that. We are all reasonable beings- at least that was my first impression." He still holds that little bag of quills forward. "Please try to understand what I'm attempting to offer to you. This is a middle ground that does not see anyone else killed, including those in my captivity, including the cultists." He looks somewhat embarrassed. "I am sorry, I just... I don't know what I can tell someone who understands so little of it. This was a den of thieves, and almost certainly a hub point for information moving through the Cult. Albeit a small one." Sabriel slowly seems to relax, though it seems less that he's becoming comfortable or complacent, more that he's tired. "You are correct in assuming I am not of your country, or of Promise, but I know quite a lot about it. Enough for me to know where I need to go next day-to-day." He glances down at the mud. "If you mean to strike me down, I will let you have the first blow, but I cannot assure your safety after that point. I truly do not want to hurt anyone else. I just want you to take these men back to your King, and for us to part ways amicably."
Following a cursory examination of the scrolls, Leonidas stows them securely at his belt, cloak obscuring his new acquisition. Following a further brief examination of the area, he exits the building and raises his voice to be heard over the proceedings. "Sirs, particularly the one failing to trust our new acquaintance's judgment, if you would care to take a look at what has been found in one of the accused's houses it may serve to ... educate your decision on the matter. And if our new acquaintance does not understand this language, we would appreciate a translation; no doubt this gentleman would care for further vindication. The fate of your townsfolk, however, is not of our concern - you may deal with your criminals as you so choose - merely the validity of claims the Scholar has operated here. Those quills alone may not constitute an acceptable demonstration of their presence, such as the uncertainty of how many are truly 'pact items', we have overheard them called, but perhaps a shrine to this spirit would suffice."
Having said his peace, he then grins, tail wrapping neatly around his legs as he stands to attention, perhaps with surprising posture befitting a businessman or perhaps courtier of some sort. "And Sir, would our acquaintance choose to execute you here, would it not be a miscarriage of justice? Sweetwater does not grant the rights of judge, jury and executioner all to any one being; unless we are harboring a criminal of our own, we would not expect a vigilante to make such an ill-advised decision."
Kurah stares intently at the indicated quill, edging a bit closer to get a look at it - and to move towards where he *thought* an archer might be, based on the earlier glance from Sabriel. With any luck, he wouldn't need to draw the blade or put it to use, but the matter of the artifact remained and that seemed more important than whether or not dedicants of an Old One were among the slaughtered.
There wasn't a word from Sabriels men, but considering there were still arrows upon thier strings they weren't exactly about to stand by if something does happen.
Kurnoc Frowns and pads towards Fenris sighing "Sir, we are in no position to fight.." he Glances around. "We..need a resolution and non combat, Right now, is the most favourable.." he nods towards the other tiger. "Sorry.. for speaking out of turn, Sir." he bows his head.
"Last chance," Fenris says amiably, "Give yourselves up. The people of Whitefeather could all be cultists. There's no law in Sweetwater about religion. You, on the other hand, are the leader of a group that has attacked, killed, and took hostage beings under the protection of the crown." He looks around at the thugs and archers surrounding him. "Turn yourselves in and I will see to it your accusations are fairly heard." He smiles at Kurnoc. "Nothing wrong with a pitched battle, kid. Stick close."
Shira is already mentally preparing herself for the escalation that seems to be incoming. She remains in her hidden position, hoping that she will draw less attacks to herself once the fight starts, if it does start. She has already picked the spokesman as her target, should it come to it.
Sabriel's attentions snap to Leonidas as the 'olm' speaks, and after a moment of examination, the tired slump in his body seems to be jerked away in favor of a curious energy- his attention is grabbed completely by the strange creature. He'd heard a bit about shadows, though not enough to be able to identify one at a glance. That darkness only barely seems out of place to him in the gloom of the rain, but it's just uncanny enough to set the fur on the back of his neck abristle. Kurnoc's apology snaps him out of it, though. "What? Oh- No, no need to apologize," he explains in a more familiar language. "Despite what you seem to think I am not some bandit warlord with delusions of grandeur. I just want my artifact and more information on the Cult. Your olm friend is right about more or less everything... Look," He seems to be about to respond to Fenris, opening his mouth when he is quite suddenly wracked with a fit of coughing, doubling over and dropping the quills in the mud as he drops to his knees, gripping his waist. His expression states nothing but pain, though he manages to find the willpower to grab towards Biggs for support. He wheezes desperately for what little air he can strain into his lungs, and while he seems to be recovering fairly quickly, he's still gasping in the mud for now.
"'Speaking out of turn', you say?" Leonidas queries from his position. "I see no reason providing a reasonable idea would be considered speaking 'out of turn'. No being is truly invincible, no matter how much you would care to believe it. Even a certain hero of yours from the war... Lord Robert, was it not?" The olm gestures to the building. "We would advise you not to play the hero, if only for your own sake, Sir. This is your free tip." He grins. "We would remind you there are always more opportunities to be caught, and instead be prepared for what to expect rather than a direly outnumbered force. You are bargaining from a losing position, and we would advise cutting your losses."
In all the talking, in all the arguing something simple was overlooked. As Biggs helps to support Sabriel the raccoon finally manages to cut through his bondings, taking the opening that he is given to tear off the crude muzzle he was given. "Enough of this charade, die all of you!" He snaps as the spell he had been preparing this entire time is finally brought to bare, the very sky flashing as he calls down a lightning storm upon all.
Fenris does not move, save to twitch something in his pocket. A shimmering, translucent blue bubble springs to life around him that simply absorbs the lighting crashing down upon him and Kurnoc. "That, however, was down right unneighborly," the tiger says, frowning and taking a swift step forward to make a speeding uppercut at the offending raccoon. "Check on gaspy, Kurnoc" he commands.
Kurnocbarely has time to think before LIGHTNIG! and... Fenris' glowy bubble. "Ok-sir." he nods and moves to the other tiger. "Are you ok, sir?" he asks. "I can promise you, that right now-I'm not going to hurt you." he Glances around at the carnage the spell caused. "By the Creators.." he looks back to Sabriel. "you hurt or anything?" he asks, again, Looking him over.
Studying advanced lightning magic since she was eight, Shira is able to redirect the lightning aimed for her, obliterating a nearby house. Her eyes focus on the raccoon, as does her magic. Firm and forceful calculations draining the air out of the being's lungs. Her cocky smile and usually cheery attitude gone. Someone tried to kill her, and she is gonna return the favor.
Sabriel is situated under the cages, secure in the arms of Biggs as he regains his breath. When the wolf approaches to ensure he's fine, he breaks out into a fit of wheezing, half-delirious laughter. "You sweet fool, you're going to get yourself killed- he's still out there!" He turns his attention towards Biggs momentarily. "Speaking of which, we should probably- hoo, haa- we should probably be leaving now." His eyes lock back onto Kurnoc. "I don't mean to be rude, but I've given you everything you need, and you lot've gotten more than your fair share of my men killed already." He seems on the verge of passing out and is taking the death of his soldiers a bit whimsically for the time being, though the conflict of emotions is written all over his face. "I'm getting too old for this."
Diving into the house as the lightning crackles overhead, Leonidas leaps back into the house he had left not too long ago, rolling back to his feet. With a rare frown (Though perhaps thankfully obscured by the house), the olm dusts his bland clothes off, straightens his back, and removes an unfortunately large splinter from his tail before he makes his way back out. "You may wish to teach your friend some manners, sir." Leonidas calls after the being, clearly not pleased - yet perhaps peculiarly, his bow remains hung over his shoulder, though that eerie grin returns in short order. "Even we are aware a mass slaughter is entirely unacceptable conduct for one wishing to parley." Looking back to Fenris, the olm shrugs - apparently also rather cavalier. "Well, Sir, we have heard the occasional rumor on the street such 'foreigners' as our new acquaintance have very little by way of a lifespan. Decades less than common beings, even. We wonder you would know anything of this, and perhaps if such would explain their... Rash behaviour."
Kurah scarcely had time to turn his attention from the coughing tiger to the raccoon before being nearly obliterated by a bolt of lightning. Blinded by the flash, he was incapacitated and could only hope that wasn't burning feathers he smelled. The air math he'd been focusing on to conjure up a counterattack with was gone along with his focus, stumbling blindly towards what was hopefully cover.
Even now the damage is done, the smoke clears. And the smell of charred flesh is apparent as is the hiss of water evaporating as twenty-three of Sabriels men have been brought low by the lightning, charred and twisted corpses as the Raccoon had used all the energy he had to create that spell, slumping to the ground unconcious before even Shira's spell could be used upon him. The distraction was enough for Biggs to get Sabrial onto the carts seat, snapping the reigns as the cart, and cage go carreening down the path out of the village, a few carts following with what's left of the bandits flee.
Kurnoc nods and before he has time to say anything else-The tiger is carted off. "So we'll keep in touch?" he asks, jokingly before looking back at Fenris. "Well that was.....unwanted..not even we thought of waa-HEY" he motions to the movmoent of air currents around The Raccoon. "dont we need him alive?!" he Shouts, frowning and glancing to where Sabriel was santinf before hte spell. "AVoided that well.." he comments after.
Fenris is at a loss. "What just happened here?" he mutters aloud, "How on Promise did this get so out of hand?" The tiger looks to Kurnoc and shrugs. "I can hardly think how to make this look good on paper. You write it up for the Captain." He flashes a grin at the wolf and hurries to see what he can do for the villagers. He has more than a few questions.
Shira drops her spell and gets up as she sees that it is not needed. She swings herself down the building and squints at the battlefield. "Well that was anticlimactic. Think we are still getting paid?" She gives the raccoon a nudge with her foot, looking uncertain.
