2nd-4th of Eleint (The Fading) – Summer 1486
Location: Yartar & the Tribor Trail
The Surbrin River still ran strong in the summer and would be difficult to cross north of its confluence with the Dessarin, so after their victory over the Hill Giants the Mickale Trio stuck to the road and camped rough, trekking at a good pace the next day and making the gates of Yartar after nightfall. Securing lodgings at the Pinus Inn, Trevor, the owner, was able to sell them horses so they could make better time towards Pinko’s Commune in the Neverwinter Woods. Pinko had an early night, while Smacky regaled anyone in the common room who’d listen and a few who wouldn’t about how he single-handedly took down a Giant yesterday. Cockseepage snuck off into the dark allies of the town to do Seepage kind of things. In the morning they crossed the wide stone bridge over the river to the Citadel on the West bank, and found no protest from the Lord’s Alliance guards who inspected all commerce and travellers coming and going along the Tribor trail. The plan was to stick to the road until they were a few hours outside Tribor, then skirt around that town in the hills to the south to avoid any trouble with the Order of the Gauntlet masters who presided there. An hour outside Yartar, coming down through a steep cutting that opened onto a low bridge over a small tributary, trouble it seemed, was already waiting for them.
It was too late to do anything without raising suspicion other than stay their course as the soldiers on the bridge ahead of them completed their checks and waved through a wagon also headed west. Half a dozen crossbowmen flanked the road on the far side of the water while another half dozen men-at-arms with pole arms stood at attention, three each end of the bridge, preventing free traversal of the stone arch. More worryingly, two knights, fully armoured and mounted on warhorses, controlled the middle of the low span. Though they seemed relaxed, it was impossible for any of the party not to notice the mailed gauntlet livery they bore shining in the morning sun.
“Argh, Seeps. Are those fella’s likely to recognise your face?” asked Pinko back over his shoulder, slowing his horse slightly so the warlock could catch up. “The one on the left is no fella but no, not this face!” came the reply from a slightly husky voice that at once was Seeps, but also possibly belonged to a recently departed vagrant gentleman formally of the gutters of Yartar. The smiling visage that presented from under Cockseepage’s cowl was at odds with the dirt, blood stains and lack of teeth it displayed. If Pinko stared hard enough he could just make out the joins of the flesh face mask around the red skin of the tiefling but he had to admit the glamour was very convincing for anyone not directly looking for it. “They are both of The Twelve. The big muscled one is Theressa and she is a suspicious bully. The other skinny tanned one is Zaykree and he almost never says a word, just does what Darathra says. Neither of them know my friend ‘Dennis’ here I believe.” explained Seepage confidently as she rode up ahead passing Smacky who’d been in the lead and leaving him doing a double-take as a dirty old man in Seep’s clothing winked at him on his way through.
“Halt for inspection travellers!” came the order from the footman as the trio approached the bridge. “What’s the hold-up sonny?” called down Dennis-Seeps from her mount giving her best grumpy old man impression of impatience. “Dangerous times Sir, more so than usual. Have you by chance seen any tieflings in your travels recently? Reports are she’s travelling with an elf and a…” he paused for just a moment and gave a hand signal behind his back. “Half-orc.” he finished, his eyes roving from Pinko to Smacky then back to Dennis-Seeps. The signal had the desired effect and Theressa appeared at his side, her horse shouldering the footman out of her way as she stared down her nose at Dennis-Seeps who beamed back at her. “Tiefling. Female. Red skin, black hair, gold eyes, tail, horns like a demon. Have you seen anyone matching this description on the roads? Speak!” barked the Knight. Pinko wondered why all these armour-clad righteous types seemed to have a ten foot pole shoved up their clackers. He also noticed the faint traces of eldritch energies gathering around the twirling fingers of Cockseepage and swore quietly to himself, again, that this was not going to end well.
Dennis-Seepage put on her best air or deep consideration. “Why you know what, yes! Yes I have good knight! Buxom lass, very attractive, drinks like fish and holds her liquor like a drum. I saw her in Tribor a few days ago, chatting friendly-like with… why that fella on the horse over there!” As Seeps pointed at Sir Zaykree, Pinks detected the faintest hint of a Suggestion spell being cast on Theressa in an attempt to get her to believe whatever far flung course of action the tiefling was about to propose. “Now that’s a bit odd isn’t it? A fine Knight of the Order shouldn’t be mingling with wanted criminals should he? That sounds like you should investigate such corruption and arrest him!”. A blank look passed over Theressa’s face and her eyes narrowed to pinpricks momentarily as her brain fought with the notion that her companion could in fact be a conspirator in the murder of Sir Voldrik during the raid on the Cloud Giant’s Tower. Ultimately, while she momentarily gave Zaykree a stern and suspicious look she recognised the beguiling forces assaulting her mind and rejected the notion, snapping her attention back to Dennis-Seeps. “Deceiver! What sorcery is this? Get out of my mind! Men, arrest them!” As the crossbows raised, the pole arms lowered and the guards approached Seeps’ horse, Pinko just pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head to ward off the encroaching headache that often visited him when Seeps acted as, well, Seeps tended to do. Smacky lent over to him and whispered “So, are wez gonna just stomp them all now?”. The well timed purple blast of an Eccy blast bursting into the chest armour of Theressa’s mount causing it to rear and scream was all the answer the barbarian needed. “Yaaays! Smacky time!” he shouted as he coxed his own horse into a gallop, charging directly at the defenders on the bridge.
The guards with pikes dropped to one knee as Smacky came barrelling along the road to Seeps’ aid. The wall of metal points caused the barbarian’s riding horse to shy and rear as it certainly was never trained for combat and Smacky had to fight to stay in the saddle. Six crossbows twanged in tune and two bolts thudded into the beast’s flank further inducing its panic. Another projectile clipped Seepage’s shoulder and sent her crashing to the ground as her own steed turned and fled back towards Pinko, leaving her face down in the mud. The pain caused her to lose focus on the glamour and as she lifted her head the Dennis mask fell away along with her spell and her infernal origins were once again on clear display. “It’s the tiefling! Seize her!” called Theressa as she struggled to bring her warhorse back around. Smacky meanwhile had given up on trying to calm his horse and instead stood up in the stirrups and launched himself bodily into the brawny knight with a giant crash tackle. Half-orc and human became a tangled mess and the overburdened beast could not bear their combined weight. It buckled at the knees and rolled, crushing its rider's leg underneath it. Seeps unleashed a Thunderwave which blasted back the footmen who’d started to surround her but all it served to do was open a path for Sir Zaykree to ride forward and bear down on her, great sword pointed at her prone form. “Surrender, Demonspawn.” he demanded.
As Seepage looked up in anger the golden gauntlet emblem in the middle of Zaykree’s shining chest plate started to faintly glow. It turned from dull yellow to flame red, then bright orange as smoke started rising from the leather ties which held it to his person and the knight began to squirm and clutch at his collar. In a matter of seconds, the entire armoured suit was hot enough Seeps could feel the radiant heat and hear the sizzle of skin where it contacted the blistering metal. Zaykree dropped his sword and rolled off his horse as he fought in vain to try to remove the very thing that was meant to protect him from harm. Glancing back Seepage saw Pinko, chanting with eyes closed, one arm raised to the sun channelling its energy through himself and out his other open palm into a beam of light that had its focal point directly on the Knight’s heart. A second pulse of solar energy transmuted into a Heat Metal spell elicited a fresh gasp of pain and swearing from Zaykree as he struggled helplessly on the ground to remove armour that took two pages fifteen minutes each day to strap him into. “Now, now that is language most unbecoming of a Knight of the order Zayk. What would Dara think if she could hear you now?” taunted Seeps as she found her feet, and her giant sized skinning knife, using it as a crutch to lift herself out of the dirt. “She’d join me in cursing you to hell, witch!” came the stoic reply even as his flesh began to blacken under the continuous scorching. Seeps giggled to herself, “Been there, got the scars to prove it, and it’s warlock not witch honey… though we both do enjoy a good hexing. I guess I’ll see you there.” Her eyes flashed black and a sheath of violet light coiled around her new hexblade as she plunged it through the now soft steel chest plate and its energy wrapped around the knight's heart stopping it instantly.
Only feet away Smacky and Theressa were locked in mortal combat. The other still conscious combatants became spectators as the two furious fighters exchanged bloody blows. The guards feared hitting their commander, Pinko and Seeps feared what Smacky would do if they ‘helped’ him in what had obviously become a personal grudge match. The transfixed observers noted that the evenly matched pair had begun to tire, Smacky’s brutal warhammer onslaughts skilfully parried by Theressa’s precision drilled great sword manoeuvres. While he could never be called a fast learner, the barbarians battle instincts were as sharp as Seep’s tongue and after suffering cuts from two ripostes, he anticipated the third and twisted his hammer to batter the Knight’s wrist resulting in both of them dropping their weapons. Theressa charged trying to use her heavy armour as a battering ram but Smacky dropped his shoulders, planted a leg back and executed a perfect rugby tackle around her waist, lifting her a foot in the air and then slamming her backwards and down the steep bank of the stream where she bounced off the rocky sides and crashed into the swiftly flowing current. Though not very wide, the water running under the bridge was at least eight feet deep. Theressa could be seen on the bottom struggling against the weight of her thick plate to reach the surface for a breath… and failing.
For a long moment the only sounds were the stream gurgling under the pylons of the bridge and the whinnying of injured horses. The surviving guards and the bowmen on the far bank then had the sense that now would be a good time to flee, threw down their weapons and scampered off west towards Tribor. Seeps sent a few half-hearted fire bolts on their heels but was distracted by a burning sensation in her belly. She lifted her shirt to find two more of the keloid scars on her stomach had faded to dull red marks. Pinko rode over to Smacky’s mount and examined the wound, then swore in elvish. A bolt had pierced the poor creature's lung, he could do nothing but ease its suffering with a painless handful of sedating herbs. Theressa’s horse had also perished, but Zaykree’s mount was won over with a goodberry or two and some gentle words from the druid. He walked it over to Smacky and introduced them. “Here Smacks, you’ll need him. We are getting off this road now. We'll have to travel cross country and give Tribor a wide berth to avoid any more of these altercations. If The Twelve were cranky over the first dead knight, they'll be downright ropeable when these two don't come home with their retinue. How fare you Seeps? The Twelve seem rather determined to have your head." he called over to the warlock who was still poking at the deceased form of Zaykree with her skinning knife, giggling with delight each time the tiny jolt of magic electricity she sent down the blade made one his limbs twitch. "Nine!" She replied, her free hand absent-mindedly rubbing the ridges on her belly. "You mean, 'The Nine'."Cockseepage spat on the corpse, kicked it one last time for good measure, and then wandered off silently to try to find her stupid horse.
Next Episode: The Old Tower
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