DnD Episode 1, Pt I: The Ragtag Group

Episode 1, Part I
Nestled between the lush forests of Southern Woods and high mountains of Xarzith Ridge sat Loyal's Crossing: a quiet stop along one of the most popular trade routes in the kingdom. From east to west and back again, merchants and travelers alike could find a nice place to rest, good places to eat, and a decently sized market to buy and sell goods within the well-guarded walls of the small town. Year in and year out, the town flourished, but never lost its welcoming charm. Until one year, that is. In the late spring, the usual flow of travelers seemed to diminish, particularly merchant caravans, and trade heading out was seldom heard from again. The townspeople were starting to worry. While their basic supplies were still well-stocked, inventory was decreasing with each passing week, and with no fresh supply of the essentials, unrest was starting to stir. The local council decided something had to be done and a decision was made: all caravans passing through the town would be provided with an armed escort to guard them to their next destination. It was believed that, if they could protect the caravans, the trade would pick up again. And it seemed to, if not as strongly as before. Most of the town was satisfied, but there were still some that thought this solution was only going to work for so long. One of those skeptics was Count Loyal himself...

It was a typical market day in town, shopkeepers opening their doors to shoppers, merchants setting up their carts along the streets. There was a sizable number of travelers currently visiting, so business was good. Though it could have been better, if not for the current distraction at the center of the market.

"Please, I'm only asking that you hear me out," the young man pleaded with the gathering of people who had stopped with their errands to see what the lad had to say. "If I could just get the aid of a small group of able-bodied men and women to help me, we could end this problem now!"

"The problem is ended," one woman quipped, adjusting her hold on the basket in her hands. "The caravans are protected; there's no need to go on a snipe hunt."

"Travel is always dangerous," another man added. "That's the risk you take on the open road."

The speaker sighed and shook his head. "Just wrapping a wound in gauze isn't the same as sewing it closed. Look, I've spoken with Count Loyal himself on the matter, and he's willing..."

To this, many of the townspeople laughed and started to disperse. "Go home, kid," someone shouted, then another added, "Or play that lute you've got slung on your back. Provide some actual entertainment."

Their dismissal of his plea stung, and he finally sat down on the barrel he'd been standing on to try and figure out another way to approach this. "Apparently, I can only hold an audience when I'm pretending to be someone else," he grumbled.

"What is this Count Loyal willing to do?"

The young man looked up with a start, not expecting to be addressed by someone who had actually been listening. He was even more surprised to find himself staring up at not one, but two elves, both armed and armored. The man (who had asked the question) was a few inches taller than the woman, but both had tanned skin, brown hair, and a hardened look in their green eyes that only came when someone had been in battle many, many times.

"Well?" he prompted when the young man didn't answer.

"Oh, well, he's willing to pay for this excursion," he explained, unaccustomed to being at a loss for word and still trying to pull his thoughts together. "He's willing to negotiate appropriate compensation for anyone who's willing to go with me to try and nip this problem in the bud. That includes a reward for our efforts."

"I like the sound of that, Renn," the woman whispered to her partner, a glint of excitement flashing through her eyes at the mention of a reward. The man smiled with some amusement as he nodded.

"If there's gold to be had, then you can count us in." He extended his hand. "Renn Nai'lo, and this is my friend and partner, Zela Xiloscient. We're in the hunting and tracking business, as it were."

The young man smiled brightly as he took his hand in a firm shake. "Morgan Greycastle. Um, actor by profession." There was a little uneasiness in his voice, as though he realized he was far outclassed in this endeavor by the people he was recruiting to assist him. Oddly, neither of the elves were the one he heard scoff.

"An actor?" The new voice came from another man, this one quite clearly a soldier, his leather armor covered in scuffs and obvious repairs, the colors of his uniform faded from age. A longbow was slung over one shoulder, a full quiver of arrows hanging from the belt at his hip. He was human, like Morgan, but boasted a short, neatly trimmed beard, hints of gray streaking his otherwise black hair, which was long enough to be pulled back in a short tail. The corners of his eyes crinkled deeply as he looked over the younger man with some confusion. "Seems odd for an actor to be the one interested in finding out what's going on with the caravan attacks."

Morgan shrugged. "Seems stranger to me that no one else had thought to investigate already, but according to Count Loyal, it's a matter of profit for the ones who have shown interest: it pays far better to continuously guard a caravan or two than to get rid of the thing putting them in danger. I understand the logic, but I dislike the morality. Loyal said he tried sending some of his guard to the task, but none of them have returned."

"Sounds like you have a nice little mystery on your hands." Yet another voice, this one smooth, sultry, and coming from a young woman who had moments ago been absorbed in a book. There was no mistaking the aura of arcane power around her, the crystal atop the staff leaning against the wall next to her glowing faintly, providing the dim light she'd been reading by. She offered the other four a thin smirk, closing her book before she strutted up to them. "I like mysteries."

"Hopefully, it won't be a mystery for long." Morgan rubbed his neck. He'd gone from zero interest one minute to intense interest the next, and the volunteers just kept coming. He gestured back and forth between the two newcomers. "And you are...?"

"Behrtric Kent," the man said, standing proudly with his head held high. "Formerly of the seventh cavalry of Lord Zondaar, retired." He made a curt bow with his head. "At your service."

"Amaia. Motet." The woman's light nod was decidedly more elegant, a lock of her purple hair falling forward. "Scholar, sage, and self-taught necromancer."

"Ewww..." Before anyone had noticed her, another elf had wheedled her way into the middle of the group, tilting her head curiously at the wizard, her nose wrinkled with a mix of disgust and confusion. "You like dead things?"

"I study the arcane workings of life and death, not ‘dead things.'" Amaia scowled back at the girl. "Who asked you anyway?"

The elf seemed satisfied with this answer and nodded, her copper ponytail swinging from side to side as she hopped up and rocked on her heels. "No one, but I heard someone mention gold and thought I might put my bid in to get some."

Zela tittered as she shook her head. "Isn't she cute?" she asked Renn before turning her attention back to her. "Sweetie, this is a mission for adults, not children."

"Um, I am an adult," the other elf insisted. "I'm fifty!"

That made both of the other two laugh.

"Fifty?" Renn echoed, barely containing his guffaws. "You are a child, and a delusional one at that. My partner and I are each nearly four times your age. Where are your parents, little girl? You should be supervised."

The younger elf's tanned skin started to turn red. "I never knew my parents; I was raised among humans, and I'm as good as human when it comes to being an adult!"

"Whatever you say, child. Whatever you say."

"As long as you understand the risks involved, I see no reason why you can't help too." Morgan was used to playing mediator between the members of his old troupe, and this wasn't much different. "Your name?"

"Caelynn." There was a brief pause, then she added, "Just Caelynn. Not Cae, not Lynn. Caelynn."

"Nessa hin," Renn muttered, ignoring her when she stuck her tongue out at him and turning to Amaia instead. "By the way, is that your natural hair color? Seems a bit odd for a human to have..."

"It is," she cut him off, shooting him a narrow glare.

"So does the carpet match the drapes?"

"Yes." Amaia's hissed response was the end of that topic, or so they thought. Clearly, she'd been asked those questions a few too many times before. Behrtric shook his head in shame, while Morgan grinned uneasily, trying to hide his discomfort. Caelynn seemed confused, and Zela rolled her eyes, already anticipating her partner's next remark:

"Ikotane re caela y' coria alda vithel."

Amaia's face began to turn an angry pink, and Renn realized quickly that she (along with the other two humans, who looked more shocked than anything else) had understood him. The elf shrugged it off. "Guess that means we all understand Elven. Good to know."

"Shashtiup-narod goh," she growled at him in Draconic, easily recognizable by its guttural sound, even if no one else there seemed to know what she'd said. Her eyes flashed as she glared towards the one who'd drawn them all together in the first place. "Are we going on this mission now or aren't we?"

Morgan hastily hopped off his barrel. "We're going! We're going!" he assured her, once again trying to maintain the peace within this ragtag group. "As soon as everyone's ready, we'll start out the western gates. It's along that stretch of road where most of the caravans have disappeared."

"We're ready," Behrtric declared. He pointed in the direction of the gates. "Let's move out."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first three days were awkward, but thankfully uneventful. Renn and Zela took lead half the time, standing at the front while they traveled and taking responsibility for setting up camp and designating watch shifts each night. Behrtric lead the other half, treating the others like a band of soldiers and becoming agitated when they didn't act like one. Morgan tried to make conversations with everyone, but usually ended up talking to himself or simply playing his lute to pass the time. Caelynn tried to act as adult as possible, but usually ended up falling into step beside Morgan and making stilted conversation with him. Amaia pretty much ignored everyone.

It was around noon on the third day when something finally happened. Ahead of them on the road was the broken remains of what looked to have been a carriage, the bloody carcass of the horse that had pulled it on the grass nearby. More interesting, however, were the three heavily armored brutes crouched around it, speaking in grunts and growls. Each had skin the color of mud and a squashed, boar-like face, grotesque tusks jutting from their jaws. One was poking under the carriage with a spear or javelin.

Renn and Zela, who had taken lead again, stopped dead in their tracks.

"Orcs," Renn growled, grip tightening on the haft of his flail while his partner drew her two swords. "We should have guessed it."

"Does anyone know what they're saying?" Morgan had a weapon -- a rapier, to be specific -- but he was more hesitant to draw it, even as Caelynn got out her sword and Behtric primed his bow.

"Something's under the wreckage," Zela quickly told him. "They want to keep whatever it is as a pet."

"You speak Orcish?"

"Of course: know thy enemy."

Before Morgan could ask more about that, Behtric stepped forward. "Well, they don't seem to have noticed us yet. If some of us can move around into the woods and come at them from the side, then maybe..."

"Ilya glamhoth gurthuva!"

Zela rushed in before he could finish his sentence, quickly alerting the orcs to their presence. They snapped to attention, roaring commands to one another as they went on attack, spreading out. The elf landed two quick strikes on the first one she met, her blades cutting through his side as she barely dodged the axe he swung back at her. Another orc moved in to flank with the first, and the last held his ground in front of the carriage.

Amaia chuckled lightly as she prepared a spell, watching as Renn ran in to help his partner. "So much for strategy."

Behrtric cursed under his breath, loosing an arrow into one of the orcs. Caelynn joined Renn and Zela, letting the pair distract the enemy while she ducked in underneath. Her attacks didn't seem to carry quite the weight the older elves' did, but hers were precise, slipping between the gaps in the orc's armor, dealing just as much damage as their more forceful strikes. One orc soon fell. As they moved to the next, Amaia raised her hand, sending forth a fiery bolt of energy. The flame zipped past the other fighters, honing in on the orc guarding the wreckage. He ducked out of the way at the last minute, the spell dissipating in a burst as it hit the carriage instead. Morgan sent the wizard a panicked look.

"Careful! There's someone under there!"

She rolled her eyes and prepared another spell. He huffed, but finally joined the fray. Moving as close to the combat as he dared, Morgan fixed his gaze on the second orc. "Hey!" he shouted at him, a dangerous glow coming to his eyes as a spat out a vicious string of syllables that sounded vaguely like the brute's own language. The orc grunted as though in pain, a thin line of blood trickling out his nose. There wasn't much time for him to register what had happened as another solid blow from Renn's flail took him out completely.

That only left one to go.

"Ta naa lle tyela!" Renn cried as he swung his weapon, intent on ending this now. The orc just scarcely dodged, but it was enough for the spiked ball to swing past, just missing himand smashing into Zela's arm instead. She screamed, but was undeterred, sliding her sword into the orc's gut and finishing him there. He slumped forward, collapsing in a heap like his allies, the battle at last over.

Morgan was the first to run up to the elves, stopping abruptly next to Zela. "Hold still," he said, not even giving her a chance to object as he took out his lute and played a few, quiet notes. The music took on visible form, the strains becoming strings of light that wrapped themselves around the wound, shimmering briefly before they vanished in a small burst. Except for the damage to her clothes at the spot, no evidence of the injury remained.

"Not bad for an actor," Amaia drawled as she joined them, hands on her hips. "So you can do something useful: an actual bard, not just a performer. You should have mentioned that you're a spellslinger."

Said bard shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'd hardly call what I do spellslinging. Useful, yes, but I'm not exactly throwing flame bolts here."

"You threw something though." Renn noted. He nudged the corpse of the orc at his feet. "Whatever you said to that one bastard shook him hard enough he bled."

Zela started to giggle. "He told him his hair looked stupid." She gave Morgan a quizzical look. "Was that really the best you could come up with?"

Morgan blinked in confusion, then started laughing. "That's what I said? I couldn't tell; the spell works itself into whatever would be most caustic to the target, making it literally damaging. Half the time, I end up rattling off some insult in a language I don't even speak. Although, I've learned a lot of great curses this way."

"Not to interrupt your little discussion over there," Behrtric called to them, kneeling beside the carriage to look beneath it. "But maybe some help? There's definitely someone under here. Looks... looks like a child."

Caelynn was the first next to him, peering under the broken pieces of metal and wood. Curled up in what remained of the cab was what appeared to be a young girl, peering fearfully over her knees at the new people staring back. "Hey there," the young elf said gently, motioning for her to come closer. "It's okay. We won't hurt you."

The child continued to stare, then slowly unfurled herself and crawled out. Although she appeared mostly human, with light skin and raven hair tied in two small pigtails, a pair of ram-like horns that curled on either side of her head and a narrow, lashing tail that wrapped around Caelynn's arm when she picked the child up indicated otherwise. The girl didn't speak, but whimpered as she nuzzled up to the elf, her dark eyes one solid color and blinking back tears.

"A tiefling," Amaia observed quietly, her usually cold demeanor softening a little. "She can't be more than five, maybe six years old."

"It's okay, sweetie," Caelynn soothed, rubbing the child's back. "We're here to help."

"Where are your parents?" Renn asked.

The child's arm shot up and she pointed out into the woods. But then the tip of her tail flicked, her arm lowering before she snapped her head towards the town, lifting her other hand to point in that direction instead.

"Is that where you were going?"

The little girl nodded.

"There were definitely more orcs than the ones we found," Zela said, crouching near the edge of the woods, inspecting the ground. "It looks like there were at least ten that passed through here, but the lack of bodies and these additional footprints tells me they probably took hostages." She glanced over her shoulder worriedly. "Hopefully, they're still alive."

"What's your name, sweetie?" Caelynn asked the child, hoping she wasn't listening too much to what Zela had said. After a long silence, the girl tugged on her shirt, stretching up so she could whisper in her ear:

"Rosemary."

"Rosemary," the elf echoed, so everyone could hear. "That's a very pretty name you have."

The child giggled and buried her head in her shoulder again.

"So, let's move!" Behrtric declared, starting towards the woods. "The day's nearly half over and we have a lot of ground to cover..."

"Hold on," Amaia said, holding up her hand and looking over at him with some disgust. "You aren't seriously suggesting we take this child with us, are you?"

"We took Caelynn," Renn pointed out, getting a scoff from the younger elf.

"I'm not a child," she reminded him. "And either way, I can hold my own against an orc. I doubt we can say the same for Rosemary."

"I'm suggesting that we waste no more time," Behrtric continued. "For all we know, her parents are already dead and we'll only be retrieving their bodies."

"Watch your tongue!" Morgan scolded him. "How could you say that right in front of her?"

"I'm only stating the facts."

Rosemary had started whimpering again, so Caelynn turned her away from the soldier, scowling at him on the child's behalf. "I think we should get her back to town first. She was going that way anyway, and there's probably someone waiting for her there." When the child nodded that there was, she continued. "Let's make sure she's safe before we continue on."

"I hate to admit it, but I agree." Zela straightened, brushing the dirt from her knees. "I don't like losing a quarry, but I'm sure I'll be able to pick up this trail again. Let's get her back to Loyal's Crossing and make sure our supplies are well-stocked before we go orc hunting. We know there were at least ten, but that could mean we've only got seven left to face (removing these three) or there are even more waiting in the woods. For all we know, there could be an entire tribe there." She turned to her partner. "What do you think, Renn?"

"Let's return the one survivor we've found. If there are more, all the better, but at least we know one life will be saved."

Everyone exchanged nods of agreement and began back the way they came. Behrtric, however, started again for the woods.

"Do what you will, but I'm going to scout ahead. I'm not going waste a week..."

"Waste a week? Are you crazy?!" Morgan's ears had turned red as he whirled around to face him, that dangerous glow coming to his eyes again. "What sort of ignorant fool blithely leads an innocent towards death?"

The color drained from Behrtric's face, though he forced back the sudden pain the bard's spell had evoked. He swallowed the tight knot in his throat, drew a deep breath, then walked towards the others. "Have it your way, then," he said. "But don't say I didn't warn you if my prediction turns out to be right."

Morgan ran his fingers through his hair to calm his nerves. He wondered why his spell had manifested in those particular words, but knew better than to ask why they had cut so deep. He was content enough to have stopped him from wandering off alone. Skilled soldier or not, Morgan knew better than most that even the strongest fighters could be taken down.

Caelynn, meanwhile, was watching both men. It seemed odd to her that Morgan would be so bothered by Behrtric wanting to stay behind. Stupid as it was, there was no reason for him to become so violently upset, and certainly not so much that he attacked him just to make him come along. But there were more important things to worry about. Adjusting her hold on Rosemary, she began walking again. "Back to Loyal's Crossing, then. So at least one will be safe."