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Prologue III: An Introduction to Infiltration

Between your fallen comrades, your delirious state of mind, and the oblivious nature of the wolf-man standing in front of you, you realize that you won't be finding the answers your seek soon, or at the very least, you won't be dragging them out of this guy. So with that in mind, you help yourself to the leg of a fallen human, ripping into it and devouring the tender meats within. Though raw, the body is still warm, and your grumbling stomach would never forgive you if you waited to cook it before eating. Meanwhile, the wolf tosses you a twig with four berries on it. He sits across from your dinner, not bothering to hide the fact that he's watching you. So you watch him as well. "These are enchanted," he tells you, "When you eat them, they should slow your bloodloss."

One of these berries goes straight into your mouth, and it tastes... It tastes like fruit. Unpleasant, juicy. But you feel more coherent moments after you swallow, and while you're busy with what remains of the first leg you get the idea that this lupin might not be so bad. You tear off a large chunk of meat and offer it to him; he declines, but he isn't taken aback. If anything, he looks more relieved to see you acting like the gnolls he's accustomed to encountering. So you tell him your name, and the two of you talk while you recalibrate your body.

His name is Taaru, and he's tracking the people that slew your packmates. As for what he plans to do when he catches up to them, your guess is that you factor into those plans as either an ally or a distraction. He isn't giving you any more information than you give him, and you don't like the idea of offering up more than you have to: his people are nomadic, but very spiritual, and they take offense to the scavenging way of life. He could be different, but now isn't the time to find out: you both have some people to track.

But first, you need to re-arm yourself. Not everything was stripped from the corpses surrounding you, but most of the good weapons and supplies were. It takes some searching before you can find a suitable set of leathers to protect your body from the waist up. You also manage to scrounge up some unused torches, someone's flint and tinder, and a morning star whose handle hasn't been chopped to pieces. There's no sign of your slave in the area.

The two of you travel east for several hours, both watching for any signs of movement, but you leave the tracking to Taaru once he starts noticing things you would never have found. The group appears to be taking an indirect route back towards Sandford, but halfway there the tracks join a different set of tracks. You see light in the distance, and with a shared nod between yourself and your accomplice, you approach to see a campfire, surrounded by people clad in leather armor, with sheathed swords and axes. A few of the warriors present have studded leather cuirasses with the shoulder pieces attached, but nobody has much covering their arms or hands apart from some basic gloves. There are many warriors here, though one of them catches your eye: he's shorter than the rest, but wearing leather armor like the rest of them. Bright red hair falls to the midst of his slender frame, almost blending with the fiery light cast from the campfire, and his bangs are braided around either side of his head before meeting together at the back, where they are woven into a single, much thicker braid. He has a longsword at his waist, but no shield, and were it not for the haggard look in his eyes, you might not have recognized him as your thrall, Aramil. He was with you during the raid, so in the hours that you've been away, he must have taken some time to clean up.

"Still no word from the west division," somebody else observes between bites of dried beef, "Think they made it, elfie?"

Aramil shrugs. Judging from the upturned waterskins nearby, he looks like he's had a lot to drink, though he doesn't appear anywhere near as rowdy as the remainder of the camp. You smell honey-mead in the air. "That depends. Do the other groups have someone as seasoned as Marcus with them?"

"Why, you think they can't handle a bunch of stupid gnolls? We saved your scrawny ass. Prolly would'a been eaten, were it not for us."

"And I thank you for your efforts. For longer than a season have I awaited death, but I am glad my travels do not end here."

"Yeah, yeah. Let's just hope your people will be glad to have you back. Glad enough to make up for what you've eaten."

"And what of your people?"

"Marcus is our leader. Simon just does the plans." Around this moment you notice that Aramil is looking in your direction. His expression doesn't change, nor does he make any notable movements. Not even a look of astonishment colours his face, though your own inquisitive eyes do draw a reaction out of him. He looks from one group of people to another, then back to you.

"Sellswords," the elf observes under his breath. You point a finger around the area, watching his reaction, and he responds by opening his hands up, closing them, opening one hand up all the way, and extending his thumb and two fingers on the other hand. Eighteen of them.

"You all right there?" The chatty warrior sitting next to Aramil asks.

"Yes, just.. flexing my fingers a bit. It's been a while since I've carried a sword." He drops his left hand down to the sheath, tapping at it. "Hopefully I won't need to wield it soon." His cues suggest he's asking if you plan to fight these guys. You see twelve of them in the area.

1. Do you tell Aramil to prepare for a bloodbath?

"Relax, elfie. You people are too uptight."

You slink off into the darkness before anyone else catches sight of you, rejoining Taaru at the point your split apart from. He points off in another direction, and the two of you venture off. There are no fires apart from the ones at the campsite you returned from, but both of your eyes are very accustomed to the dark, and it doesn't take you long to find a circle of six people on wooden stools. Five of them wear black cloaks, their faces concealed, though you do see that they are armed as well. The last of them wears a dark robe, but you recognize the red hue in the starlight. Their chanting drowns out the sound of crickets chirping in the night.

"Bonum, commune, communitatis."

"Bonum, commune, communitatis."

They repeat this line a dozen times over, before one of their number interrupts to speak.

"I've just received word that Lady Miriam's labour passed by without any complications, and that she's given birth to two healthy baby boys. The elder will be named Geoffrey, after his grandfather, and the younger will be named Leonard." Those not speaking clap quietly, before being interrupted by another.

"You will all be pleased to know that we have apprehended the devil-child that has been tapping into pools of arcane energy without proper studies. He shan't trouble those of us keeping watch any longer." More applause.

"Now, onto more serious issues.. My dear niece Rebecca, may she rest in peace, won't be needing a wedding this winter. It would appear that the gnolls found her while she was making a delivery from the vineyard, and her betrothed was nowhere to be found during the sacking." A pause. "We search for him tomorrow, after Lowell reports in. Once we confirm that he let the gnolls in, we make a public display of him and rally the people for a more.. welcoming Sandford. A Sandford worthy of being the Best Village."

You notice that Taaru's fist is shaking and calmly pull him away from the meeting of cultists, certain that the wizard in red is the one who almost killed you. while fairly sure that the loot you pulled in from the raid remains at the camp site, you know now how much of it has been eaten, but it wouldn't matter since you couldn't carry the lot of your haul with just three people anyway. Once at a safe distance, you speak up.

"There are twelve of them camping, and these six as well. The ones camping have mead, and they have my supplies, but more importantly, they have my elf," you tell Taaru in hushed growls. "They celebrate after a victory, and their guard is not very alert, but the one in red that we saw is dangerous." It would be foolish not to trust the word of someone almost killed by the guy, so your accomplice nods in acknowledgment, offering up a short, quiet reply.

"The smaller group.. It's important that I speak with them before we draw steel."

You are fighting both of these groups. You realize that if you wait, they will merge into one group.

2. What's your battle plan? It would be wise to specify who you attack first, how you would assault both groups, and anything you would like to do in preparation of either attack. Remember: you're outnumbered by a fairly drastic ratio, and a direct assault would be suicidal.