"Quit belly aching. He's alive is he not?"
Hawkflesh jabbed back at Mirani languidly picked up his sword and began to clean the mud from it. It would ruin the blade if he did not do it quickly. He'd need to oil it soon as well and he needed shelter for that.

"But you're right, this is a big haul so either leave them or the cargo."
His eyes fell upon the elf that had been so carefully captured and he wanted nothing more than to punch them in the stomach.

"Unless we make them carry it. Lash their hands to boxes and march them in front to keep an eye on them."
He wiped more crud from his face and hoped that rain would help with the rest but knew better as he pointed to the big and hurt men he had left low.
 
A croak.

Toadwyck examined the felled foes that lay before the party.

Mirani shuffled through some of the loot stashed away. The jumble of metal clunk and clank around as she picked up her sword, still in its scabbard. The old Plum style blade, perfect for her stature. She tied it, belt and all, round her waist.

"It is a long trek back to the Hollow," Toadwyck confessed.

"We do as Scarecrow says," Mirani put in with a nod. "Put them to work, and take them back with us,"

A croak.

"Very well," he said. "Let me administer to the man's wounds first,"

Mirani squint. Looked to Hawkflesh, and Kirikin. Gave a nod of reassurance. Whether for them or herself, she wasn't quite sure.

"Bloody hells," the Stoatlin groaned. "Not a whisker harmed on yer heads, and you'll take us to the gallows," he laughed. "Just our luck,"

The others said nothing. Kept their heads hung low. Toadwyck stepped toward the now noseless man, a gob of water wicked to his froggy hand. He raised it, and with a croak, set it to glow with shroud-light. The wound slowly began to seal, the flesh, stitched together, bit by bit.
 
Hawkflesh was far too hungry for this mewling.
"Gag this one before I remove his tongue!"

If there was one thing he could not abide it was false indignation. His eyes went to Mr Toadwyck as he pointed a dirty, shaking finger at the Stoatkin.
"I'll watch him and if he so much as hisses I'll end him."

Now that the fury was leaving him he found that his wrist was aching, that man he grappled with was stronger than him and he was starting to feel it. It took more out of him than he wanted to admit to fight him off.
He had not wanted a drink this badly in weeks.

Rain ran down his hair and into his mouth as he stood and walked over to Mirani holding his sword by the blade in his hand.
"Let me see your arm."

She'd gotten cut by the leader, he'd seen it and he suspected she was too proud or stubborn or both to ask for help.

@Mirani
 
Kirikin gave the sort of laugh a man used to such tumbles gave. "Well, you heard the big man," and he dart rodent quick behind the stoatlin, and worked on putting on a gag.

A croak.

Toadwyck seemed unperturbed by the snap and bite behind the swordsman's words. "We will not be executioners, Master Hawkflesh, so long as we can help it,"

The noseless man blinked. The stump of his sniffer raw and pink.

The Stoatlin laughed. "Ain't gonna make a-" the rope tie came tight about his snout. He squirmed some, but Kirikin managed to sinch the bind quick.

Mirani looked down at her arm, saw the red wound weeping there long its open mouth. The pain suddenly turning hot. As if her busy mind had kept it away whilst the pump of adrenaline still flowed through her. She clicked her teeth, and turned so the big man could tend to the wound.

"Thanks," she said through grit teeth. "For helping me back there, Scarecrow,"
 
"As long as they don't give me any reason Mr Toadwyck."

The emphasis on the word any was strong as he knelt in the mud to take a look at Mirani's arm.

"Don't go sweet on me now." Hawkflesh said in reply to her thanks.
"I like you better with your bite Brown eyes."
His smile was brief and sharp. The shirt sleeve was ruined, blood everywhere but mercifully there was no dirt in the wound. That was good.
Fingers squeezed the flesh tenderly.
"You'll live, it's just cut muscle. Nothing too deep, the bone seems undamaged."

Ripping a strip of cloth from the fine garment of the Stoatlin, he tied the arm sharply and neatly sparing a thought that the wriggling thing was gagged well by Kirikin and that he would be blessed if he never heard it's shrill voice again.
"You know how to keep it I trust. Boiled cow urine and such to prevent infection?"
His eyes flickered to her own for acknowledgement.

@Mirani
 
A croak.

Toadwyck but nod, and went on tending to the wounds of the prisoners.

Mirani scowled at the elf, frowned even, but said nothing. Not wanting to give the man any more satisfaction for his probe and jest. "Yeah well," she said with a huff, "Could give two nuts about that," she couldn't help but smirk. Something like comradery born from the violence they had both survived. Success measured as it was.

She nod in affirmation when the wrap was done. Flexed her fingers some to test her muscles. Felt pain, but managed it. "Usually count on herbs rather than cow piss," she huffed a laugh. "But we'll use what we can find," she jerked a head toward Toadwyck. "Sides," she went on. "Toadie's handy with the Shroud," she tucked her wounder arm closer to her, and looked over the campsite. "You'd think they were feeding a village with all these goods," she said with a shake of her head.
 
"Yes well, I've never had the gift so,"
Hawkflesh smiled his crooked smile at Mirani, he had long ago gotten over the enate embarrassment that came with no magik whatsoever. While common enough among other folk the Elf had a reputation of being closer to magik than most. In his case of course, that was all it was, a reputation.
"I rely on more homely methods."

He probably sounded more knowledgeable than he was, most were things he'd picked up along the way, doc-leaf for stings, nettle teas to soothe the stomach and willow bark for fever. He was far from a healer but it felt good all the same to assist where he could and he did not ignore the trust that Mirani and him shared, even if it was marked by necessity. Comrades often sprouted from worse beginnings.

As attention turned to their well won gains he stood again and addressed a new concern that entered his mind as Mirani off handedly made a very astute point even if she had not realized it yet.
"So who were they planning on feeding?"

His stomach sank as he acknowledged the possibility that they were about to stumble up on something yet larger than a few cunning bandits.
Operations such as this, at least once before in his experience had led to a small but effective network of criminals, cut throats, knife men, robbers and knaves that loosely worked in tandem to get greater spoils.

"Are we certain this is all of them?"
His hand moved on its own for his sword again, expecting the worst.

@Mirani
 
Mirani narrowed her eyes and stiffened her brow. A snap of branches, and the crunch of quick footsteps through the underbrush.

Kiriikin whipped towards the sound, hands quick to his newly acquired knives.

"You lot let them go!" Some voice cracked high, half between boy and man. A snot nosed hume. The elf they'd bound raised her head.

"Alen, you palgris tossed idiot!" She snapped through grit teeth with a jerk of her bindings.

The boy stood before the party. All snarl and adrenaline. No thing he could do to stop his arms from trembling. "There's, there's a whole lot of us just waiting to pounce on you lot, just waiting!" He cried out.

A croak.
 
A heavy sigh came from Hawkflesh' lips as he rubbed a muddy hand over his muddy neck.
He did not ever raise his sword, he just stood there and rung the wet from his cape.
"Alen was it? It's not worth dying over lad."
Gesturing to the goods behind him as he made no clear indicator of surrendering.

"And if there is anyone else out there..."
Hawkflesh did not believe that there was anyone else, unless they were very well hidden and using the lad as a distraction. Just to cover his bases he did not rule it out right away.

"Can you flank this fool?"
He whispered to Mirani, hoping he was alone or that she was wily enough to catch any others.
In his face he showed how much he would rather not hurt this one.

@Mirani
 
A seed of doubt took root in Mirani's heart.

She could flank the boy. Then what? Cut him down? The drops of rain still clung to the fuzz that coated his cheek.

But if he was not lying. If there were more. Well. What then?

She gave a slow nod of her head to Hawkflesh, before her eyes flit towards Kirikin and Toadwyck. Both seemed still. Kirikin, ever ready to spring at the twitch of a tail. Toadwyck, wide eyed and seeing.

Her hand inched closer to her sword, her feet, slipped quiet across the wet earth.

A snap, crunch and rustle came from the leaves. "Alen!" cried out a hoarse voice. Footsteps, too clumsy, too eager slapped loud against the wet mud. An old man fell out of the under brush.

"Gramps!" the boy cried out, he jerked towards the old man. Remembered he had steel in hand. Grit his teeth and looked back to Hawkflesh, wide eyed with worry.

The bandit elf shook her head. The two humes but slumped the more, wilst the stoatlin shook his head.

The old man picked himself back up on shaky limbs. Mud drenched. Dripping. "Please, my sers, please," he begged. "We are not but weary travelers. Peoples without homes," A slip, and the old man fell into the mud once more.

Alen moved quick.
 
Well, at least it was not some warrior although again Hawkflesh found himself caught off guard. Was this another ruse? It would be a terribly elaborate one if it was, certainly cunning but if the plan was to pepper them with hostage after hostage he admitted to himself that he could think of better ways to surrender.

"Gramps? Is your whole family here boy, shall I expect you aunt to come forth now with a frying pan?"
Hawkflesh spat a fleck of nose flesh that had stuck to his teeth. He was going to be tasting that for a day at least. It occured to him that Mr Toadwick's desire to not kill was less about preserving life than killing the wrong people. These two seemed only lethal to a buffet table and though looks could be deceiving he found it very hard to believe in this case.

"Mirani do you have any idea what's going on?"
It was hard to not feel very lost at this sudden pathetic turn of events.

@Mirani
 
Alen reached his grandfather's side. Bent low to reach down for him and help him out of the mud. "Grandpa, you should've just stayed hidden," he said through gritted teeth. FIghting back the tears.

The old man grabbed for the boy's arm to steady himself. Looked to the red-caped swordsman through the muck that dripped from his face. "Please ser, we, we were just trying to get through the mountains,"

Mirani looked at the pair on the ground, her hand still upon the hilt of her blade. "I, I haven't the slightest," she confessed, face knit with angled lines and scrunched features. Her eyes looked to Toadwyck, who but stared wide eyed at the pair.

A croak.

"You are refugees?" the Toadokin weaver asked.

"We are ser, we are," the old man stammered on. "But folks leaving ravaged homes, farmland put to the torch,"
 
Upon hearing the word refugees Hawkflesh felt his strength leave him.

Exactly what he had gotten himself into was unknown but he had a nasty feeling that he was perilously close to a swirling vortex of "not his beeswax" and was being drawn in regardless.

"Gods below and all their horrors!"
His exclamation came out in a long sigh before he stood up straight again.
"Well isn't that terrible."

Again he kicked the muddy ground.

"Put to the torch by whom?"

If this was bigger then he wanted to know, travel had its own dangers without running into squads of soldiers hungry for pillage or roaming ravagers.
Impatience scored the edges of his voice as he failed to bite back the whole of his annoyance.
Why was nothing simple?

@Mirani
 
The old man turned toward the tall one, as his lips seemed to gasp for the right words. His grandson there beside him. "By, by the Rodhan's men, Baron of Larkonen," he whimpered. Looked to Mirani next. "Please, sers, spare us, spare all of us,"

Mirani's brow quirked. "All of you?"

Alen grit his teeth. "All of us!" he shout, and threw a hand out towards the other captives. "They weren't doin nothing but helping us make the passage, you bastards!"

Mirani stared wide eyed.

The older man nod, seemed to shrink all the more with each bob of his head as the rain went on pouring. "Aye sers, its as the boy says, they, they did not but save us from the Red Dog's raiders. And, have vowed to take us over to the north, towards Altalusia,"

A croak.

"A compelling argument,"

With no conviction in her voice, Mirani let aloud. "But they're wanted men..."
 
Praise the darkness.
"Worse than wanted."

Hawkflesh walked to the elf who dared take a shot at him and looked down on her.
"Robbing Peter to pay Paul."
There was a moment of silence so he decided to explain.
"Regardless of whether they are telling the truth or not they still left you folk to die to save others. Killing is killing be it direct, indirect, swift or drawn out. These poor bastards shacked up with murderers."
He knew this perhaps better than the Greencloaks, from what he'd observed. It was then that he looked at those he had saved silently letting them affirm or rebuke his claim.
They may well and perhaps they'd be right to. He could not claim to be better than them, all he could do is name them as he found them.
"That little fur balls COAT could sell for enough to feed them, that's without mentioning the steel they had or the bow."
Looking down again at the unnamed elf he threw out his hands in demand of an explanation.
"You can shoot well enough, did game suddenly go extinct while I was asleep?"

No, these fellows may have been trying to help but the methods were no different than common bandits and he was too tired and hungry to deal with excuses.
"Don't be too taken in by this sad tale, true as it may be, they were very willing to let you die and I doubt these fools would have asked where the food came from."

@Mirani
 
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