Well, that was exciting.
I am back at the Grass Pipe again, but the hours that intervened between my last line and this have been filled with adventure and the promise of more to come.
I put up my writing because a striking - dare I say majestic? - human woman came into the dining room. She surveyed the lot of us - me, the Sandey and the other ugly horc, and the wee one - and peremptorily hired us! There didn't seem to be any discussion - she surveyed us, nodded briefly, and directed us to follow. Stuckey gave me a look to indicate that it might be a good idea to do so, so I did. The horcs came too, and the little thing, although somewhat reluctantly. It was so hard to resist this woman's force of personality.
It was also difficult to keep up with her, in any sense. She kept walking and talking, both at the same time, increasing the speed of each activity as we moved through the city and out into the countryside. (so different from Bandui! so many plants!) What I could gather was that we were being hired as mercenaries - to stop, or capture, or kill some raiders that for some convoluted reason the local authorities could not engage directly. I heard mention of the dread DCC and knew that the political backstory must be baroque, and there was something about destroyed crops. Our benefactor, Pasha by name, was well-connected to the leader of the city and was prosecuting this cause.
I was glad, of course, for the chance to be of service to the authorities. Before I can figure out what to do next, I need to find a secure position for myself in this strange society. I happily followed along.
After several hours of strenuous walking, we came to a large farmstead. We were fêted as honored guests, and we all got to eat our fill and then some. Children were playing, adults were drinking - it was all quite congenial. During the meal, I could take a better look at my comrades of circumstance.
The horc girl, Zinna by name, seemed a little dull, but good-hearted even for being an obvious member of the Stealer's Guild. She was tucking into her food so enthusiastically I even shared a bit of my precious asali with her, just to see her eyes light up at this food from home. Yes, she's a city Sandey, all right.
The other horc, Uric, was some kind of shaman or priest. He carried his scars and tattoos with more pride than any full-blooded orc I have seen - apparently they are his especial connection to the Powers. He was carrying on conversations about the glory of pain or some-such nonsense. No thank you, I thought, but he has such a presence that most of the humans were at least giving him a polite listen.
Applerabbit the Gnome was the last of our crew, and she is indeed One of a Circle. She talked of her protectorate as a swamp, which I gather is a landscape like a wadi after a rainstorm, only all the time. I'd like to see that. Anyway, Applerabbit spent a good deal of the meal playing with the children; she seems much like a child herself most of the time, but I can see flashes of a keen and ancient wisdom in her eyes when she thinks no one is looking.
After the meal, we were bedded in a barn, with the expectation that the battle would come the next day. Applerabbit found some wine secreted in the loft and we shared another bottle as we passed the time before sleep. Zinna has indeed been a mercenary criminal; either she is reluctant to give many details of her life, or she honestly doesn't remember much, but from the stories she did tell us I would not take her apparent dullness as a lack of resolve or ferocity in conflict. Urik, on the other hand, was downright generous in his conversation, regaling us with his perspectives on struggle and pain. Applerabbit was... confusing. Even when we conversed in the Tongue, I am not sure I understood her.
At one point in the middle of the night, the gnome noticed some activity on the borders of the farmstead. She and Zinna went to investigate stealthily, and when they returned, this is the story they told:
Three human barbarians entered the farm warily from the north. Two males stood guard as a female engaged in some kind of ritual, which seemed to be directed at expanding the circle of destroyed crops. The guardians were focused but acute, and after a time the horc and gnome had to withdraw for fear of being detected.
We reported this news immediately to Pasha and developed a plan for the next day, which she approved.
After sufficient sleep, we scouted the area closely. It was clear the barbarians had entered the farm each night, penetrating further and further, and increasing the ring of desiccated crops each time. It was easy to predict where they would venture next, so predictable - arrogant? - were their sequential incursions. We selected spots for ambush.
The evening meal before our deployment was less joyful than the first; a sense of grim purpose hung over the entire farm.
We stationed ourselves: Urik and I in a hasty blind in the woods, Zinna and Applerabbit secreted in the corn rows. I left C'hallah to play in the crops closer to the house, hoping to divert the attention of the guardians. The ambush would be sprung when they began to close on him.
Our wait was long and dull, like most of my days in the desert. My days anywhere, for that matter.
Eventually, the barbarians arrived. We waited for the priestess - witch, Pasha had called her - to begun her ritual, during which she seemed unaware if her surroundings. I could see and hear C'hallah moving in the fields, and apparently so could the witch's guardians, but they did not take the bait, remaining at their posts and simply noting his presence. Our plan had failed.
Determined to succeed at this mission, I had knocked an arrow and was about to let loose when before I could act I saw Zinna burst from the wall of corn and engage one of the barbarians with a thrown dagger. Her ferocity was everything I expected; I called C'hallah to the attack and the battle was joined.
It took the combined efforts of all of us to take on these foes - they were fiercer even than any full-blooded Sandey I have fought in the jangwa, asking no quarter and giving no ground. It all became harum-scarum very quickly, like when a sudden sirocco hits a caravan before the camels are tied.
I saw Urik close on the witch and restrain her in massive arms to disconcert the warriors. He struggled mightily against her magic and their attacks until he went down; only a spell from Applerabbit brought him back to the fight and he was formidable even from the ground, his terrifying magic seeming to weaken our enemies.
Zinna moved like a dancer through the melee, picking her positions and placing her sword blows with a surprising precision given her dimness of thought; someone had trained that young woman well, to our great benefit.
Applerabbit moved like a hare among hounds, casting spells to confound our foes and aid our combat or slinging stones into the skirmish.
For my part, I began with a ranged assault to some good effect, but when C'hallah was felled by a barbarian's blow, I could not help myself and raced into the fracas with sickle high. Zayn would have been proud - he was always frustrated when I said the sickle was a stupid weapon, but it proved effective in this case.
After what seemed a season but was surely short minutes, we prevailed. One warrior was beyond help, and the Urik gave the other quietus. We bound the unconscious witch for interrogation and sent Zinna to fetch Pasha.
Upon her arrival, Pasha informed us that the witch was not to be questioned, but executed. Shrugging, Urik dealt the blow. Zinna was unfazed, and for my part, we had been told at the onset of the mission that it was imperative that none of our enemies survive, so it all seemed proper: these were incursionists, after all. Applerabbit, however, seemed upset that this turn of events. Her response became exacerbated when she realized that one of the young children of the farm had witnessed the dispatching and become agitated and unfriendly. (I thought a farmboy, like a shepherd, would be more inured to the killing of vermin and predators, but this land is still strange to me.)
I found the invader's camp and we were satisfied that we had killed the lot. I used some majik to strengthen C'hallah - noble C'hallah! - as we cleaned up the battle site, confident that no more crops would be destroyed. We spent the day journeying back to town, whereupon Pasha granted us each our pay - ten gold! - and told us to prepare for an audience with Nackle himself, the king or mayor or caliph (whatever he is called) of this town. Perhaps things are looking up.
One last note: as things turned out, I have found myself in possession of the witch's dagger. It would fetch many gold pieces in the market for its craftwork alone, but better, it is of cold iron.
I think I'll keep it.
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