Private Hollow

[Moina Iasis]

The contract offered had perhaps been one of the most lucrative contracts that she'd yet to take. The healer of a small party sent to a bandit camp deep in the foothills of the mountains to retrieve a stolen chest and return it to Crorefell where the contractor waited. It seemed an odd conglomeration of characters that were a part of this team. Members from various storied groups, but no one from the same. Something about it made Moina feel a bit put-off, but the money was too good to pass up. The trek had been a few days as they worked their was to the last known location of the bandits who had robbed the caravan. Over the time, she'd come to know her fellow mercenaries a bit better. There was Peony from the Bronze Bulls, a large giant of a woman with a great battleaxe that she slung over her shoulder with ease. Then Margrave, a tiny mousekin woman carrying a pair a sharp knives, a set of lockpicks, and dark clothing. She was from Shadow Hands, a group that specialized in stealth contracts. Next Rowana, a weaver from the Emberic Cabal. Finally, the Fourth. While she hadn't met the Fourth prior to this, everyone in Crorefell knew the First and the Last. With her, that made a nice party of five.

They'd arrived at the location where the bandits had attacked the caravan and it had been Peony that had discovered the tracks that led away from the road and further toward the mountains. It had taken the party two more days to follow the tracks, sometimes losing sight of them. There was once that Moina had been afraid that they had lost the trail entirely only for Margrave to happen upon it again ten minutes from where the last tracks had been seen. Pure luck really. Now the party waited outside of the entrance to a cave, the tracks leading inside. They had been watching the entrance for the last several hours, but no one had come out yet, or gone in.

"Are we sure this is right?" asked Margrave, for what felt like the thirteenth time.

"There were no other tracks." Argued Rowana.

"I think we might just have to go in and see if we can find them. Perhaps they've left our goal there while they went out for another target." Moina suggested, as she peeked through the tree branches where the party had settled for watch. She didn't like the idea of going into such a space. Caves were tight and made it difficult to fight, but at least with the small group as it was, perhaps it wouldn't be so hindering.

 

[The Fourth]

'By all means, lead the way.' Hunched low in the shadows, The Fourth watched the cave entrance like a hawk. He had heard it said time and again that patience was a virtue. It was something he possessed in droves, but even he was starting to grow tired of the waiting.

Thumbing the pommels of his blades, he turned to regard his companions: a Boneknitter, a Bull, a Hand, and one of the Cabal's blessed 'weavers. Storied, all, and yet it still sounded like the start of a bad joke.

Who'll be laughing come the punchline? The Fourth wondered, attention returning once more to the hollow up ahead. A shadowed maw set high in the rockface, it stood out in the fading daylight, black on mossy grey. Anyone hiding there would see them coming long before they saw them. But then no risk, no reward.

'Margrave has the point.'

'What? Why me?!' Her mousey tail twitched as she burrowed deeper between two rocks.

'Isn't it obvious?' Peony huffed. 'Of our band, you are the smallest, the least likely to be spotted.'

There was always a chance, of course. Sod's law and all that. The Fourth decided to keep schtum on the matter, letting his pitiless gaze speak for him. The mousekin sighed. 'Fine!' Slipping silently forth, she hopped out into the open, darting quickly from cover to cover. What little there was to be had, anyway. Rowana sped her along with a spell.

'Peony...'

'Oh, no no no. You're going next.' Smiling humourlessly, the Fourth nodded. 'Very well.' Waiting until Margrave had crossed the distance, the mercenary leapt from his hiding place, stepping lightly as he traversed stone and root. A hop, skip and jump carried him clean into the cave's entrance. Margrave awaited him there. Her beady eyes shone in the lowlight, wide open and alert.

Glancing over his shoulder, he waved the others forward.

@Moina Iasis

 

[Moina Iasis]

While the rest of the party also seemed reluctant in investigating the cavern, everyone also agreed that the wait had grown too long. Margrave went first, her small body flitting through the trees easily. Then the Fourth. The rest waited in tense silence, ready for whatever might be discovered. Yet the all clear was given, a brief wave to indicate the rest should join. Moina followed the path of the others, while perhaps a bit longer, it was the safest. Who knew what kind of traps might be out there to protect the bandit's hideout. They knew the Mousekin's path to be safe at the least.

It wasn't too long before the other three joined with the Fourth and Margrave. There was just silence from the cave in front of them. At first it seemed that there was nothing there to indicate that their bandits were within, but then she spotted it. Evidence of someone or multiple someone's coming through. "There." She pointed out, small bits of trash that looked like someone had tossed aside old pieces of cloth and ripped paper. "They must be further in." She looked at Rowana. "Lights?"

The mage nodded and small orbs appeared floating near each of the party members, the lights dim, but still better than the flickering of torches. The party organized and Moina found herself in the middle of the party, her bow slung and in her hand. Yet she wasn't sure how useful the weapon would be in the tight turns of the caves. However, if the bandits were using this as a base, then hopefully the cave would open into a larger space once they got further in.

Margrave ahead in front kept her keen eyes trained on the path watching for traps along the way, yet everything remained clear. The next in the group hung back a bit, keeping the space open between the group and the mouse woman. If Margrave stumbled upon a sentry then it would be easier to alert the party before they were all seen. The party remained quiet as they progressed. If they were able to sneak into the camp and steal the chest back, then all the better.

 

[The Fourth]

This doesn't feel right, the Fourth frowned, keeping his thoughts to himself. Too obvious, too... careless. Stepping softly, he let Margrave create some distance between them. The little mousekin woman knew her business, her size a boon when it came to going unseen and unheard.

Every now and then, she would stop and listen. There was only a small amount of ambient light within the tunnels, the majority coming from the mage-light floating over their shoulders. But sound carried far, farther than any of them were like to know until it was too late.

Something chittered, off in the dark. Margrave grew still.

'Did you hear that?' Peony whispered from behind Moina. The Bronze Bull, much like her Brazen cousins, was not used to the quiet approach. She placed her feet too heavily, allowed her anxious breathing to get the better of her. The Boneknitter and the Cabalist weren't much better, their talents lying elsewhere. The Fourth tried not to hold it against them; their skills would come in handy when stealth was no longer an option.

Creeping on, the party entered a wide chamber. The sandy floor was crisscrossed with footprints, some small, some large. They diverged in three different directions, the tunnels curving away sharply. The result of wind erosion rather than mortal effort.

'Which way?' Margrave asked, her voice tiny in the huge space.

'Depends,' replied the Fourth, sidling up alongside. 'Which of these footprints look freshest?' Glancing down, around, the mousekin indicated the passage off to their left. 'There are markings on the walls,' she said. 'The bandits must've brushed up against them. Very clumsy.'

'Or just very big.' Rowana spoke from the back of the group. Looking over his shoulder, the Fourth observed her scanning the chamber. Her eyes were glowing. Infrared? He wondered, recalling how subterranean predators relied on infrared light to hunt. An ability some beastkin shared. Catching his eye, she shook her head.

'Left it is,' the Fourth said, waving Margrave on. He glanced at Moina, noting the bow in her hands.

'Might want to get a arrow ready. Just in case.'

@Moina Iasis

 

[Moina Iasis]

The party moved with care through the cave, every noise seeming louder than it was as it bounced off the walls. Despite, what might have amounted for silence anywhere else, she was certain that the bandits would be waiting for them just around the corner after having heard them coming. Yet each turn of the bend was still as empty as the last.

"Rat maybe?" Moina whispered in response to Peony's whispered question.

Moina was not one to scare easy and she didn't expect Peony was either. However, here in the dark, where nothing could be seen further than the hand in the front of your face, the knitter couldn't help but share the Bull's anxiety. Give her a wide open field where a unit of calvary were riding her down and she'd stand tall and straight pulling back the bow string with steady consistency. Here. Well she didn't have much to aim at in here.

The mercenary was thankful when they finally found more evidence of the bandits. Footprints against the sandy stone and someone having brushed against the wall knocking off dust. All evidence of someone coming through. Not some monster. She considered using a bit of the shroud to wipe away the anxiety, but she knew better. That feeling in ones gut is often what kept you alive in the end. Better to be cautious than dead.

The group started forward again down the left side path. The fourth looked back at her and the bow held ready.

'Might want to get a arrow ready. Just in case.'

That did feel like a good suggestion. She pulled and arrow from the quiver on her back, nocking the arrow on the string. The tunnel to the left started slopping downward. Further into the mountain, the sound of water flowing ahead. The left tunnel making more sense if it had fresh water available. Ahead the cavern opened up again and Margrave paused in the front. "I think ye might want to come and see this." The mouse woman's voice called out softly.

As the group moved forward they found themselves faced with a rapidly flowing river that cut through the cave and a rickety looking wooden bridge that crossed it.

"That looks like the perfect place for an ambush." Moina spoke dryly, her voice soft. She couldn't see to the other side, but there was evidence of a faint glow in the distance. Perhaps the bandit camp. If she were them having a watcher posted on that side of the bridge in the dark ready to attack, would make the most strategic sense. Especially if they were able to do the trick that Rowana did with the night eyes.

 

[The Fourth]

'Looks like it.' The Fourth had to agree with the boneknitter's assessment. The cavern beyond the underground river was dark, with plenty of places where a sentry might choose to conceal themselves. As for the bridge... 'Try not to break wind, Peony. Don't want the damned thing collapsing on us.'

'Hey! I told you already, that was Rowana!'

'No, it wasn't!' Shaking his head, the Fourth examined the bridge closely. He had been trying for a bit of levity, but the longer his gaze lingered, the more he considered his words a warning. 'Those planks don't look too sturdy,' said Margrave, sharp as a tack, 'and the ropes on the far side are all frayed. Are we sure they came this way?'

'Y'see the fire, don'tcha? Where else are they like to go down here?'

'Margrave's right. If I was a money-grubbing bandit, no way would I risk carting my loot over that!' Rowana pointed down at the rushing waters below them. Jagged rocks lurked just beneath the surface, breaking the surface in brief splashes as the water continued to churn away. Deadly. Daunting. One misstep could spell a messy -or cold- end. Fourth blinked, made to move.

'You're going first, I take it?'

'Someone has to.' Watching the shadows on the far side, the Storied set foot on the bridge. The wood groaned alarmingly, decided to torment him further by holding. Taking another step, the Fourth hurried across, gripping his blades for luck.

The arrow came when he was two thirds of the way. Later than he expected, but sooner than he would've preferred.

'Alarm!' A man yelled, a second arrow accompanying the echo of his voice. 'We're under attack!'

Reaching the other side, the Fourth brought out his long knives, slipping into the shadows as, over by the fires, bodies began to stir and cry out in anger.

@Moina Iasis

 

[Moina Iasis]

A shout came from the other side. They were found out. Moina's fingers itched to pulling the string back, but then relaxed again knowing there was no way she could reach the other end of the bridge with an arrow, much less a target in the dark. The fourth disappeared into the darkness. With a noise of frustration in her throat, the knitter moved to the bridge. "Peony, you should go next. Hold the bridge open for the rest to cross. Try to get eyes on where the Fourth disappeared to." She had faith in his experience and capabilities, knew he could handle himself, but she was here to make sure everyone came back alive and by damned she took her job seriously.

The bull nodded stepping onto the rickety bridge. The ropes and wooden boards creaked under the large woman's weight but remained together. Either the bridge would stand up to the bull with all her armor, or it wouldn't. Perhaps she should have encouraged her to tie a rope round her waist to be safe. Just in case.

The shouting from in the cavern grew louder as the bandits gathered their weapons and awoke from their slumber. Arrows flew toward the Bull as she advanced, though she slowed down. One arrow lodged in the already fragile rope line. "Dark moon above." She cursed before looking at their mage. "Light. I'll need light." She urged before stepping out onto the bridge herself. The Bull was halfway across by now.

Moina kept her place slow, fingers locked around the arrow. Peony needed some kind of cover fire and they needed to prevent the bandits from cutting the bridge before they could cross. She needed to get at least a quarter of the way across, preferably more before making a shot. Another clink as Peony deflected an arrow with her large axe. Each step the bridge wavered. Each step she was certain it would break. At a quarter of the way across, she knew that it wasn't enough and kept advancing. Finally stopping as she got near to the midway point. Bracing her feet as best she could, she aimed toward a shadowed figure.

"Light!" She shouted back. Rowana obliged and Moina corrected her aim as the archers on the edge became clearer. Breathing in and then out with steady focus, she released the arrow. It zinged through the air, embedding in the bandit who fell over the edge of the cliff with a scream. An arrow curved in her direction from another opponent, but burned in midair before it could reach her. Glancing back, she gave a nod of thanks to Rowana before advancing forward a few more steps. Peony about three quarters of the way across now.​

 

[The Fourth]

Creeping through the shadows, the Fourth kept his head down and his feet moving as the camp woke to repel them. A man of the surface, his eyes were not accustomed to the darkness awaiting him between the rocks. The archers had chosen their positions well, he had to admit, climbing up to a small shelf overlooking the bridge.

Hidden behind chest-high stalagmites, and stone columns that reached up the cavern ceiling, they could loose their arrows with near impunity. The Fourth counted only two men, however. Sentries left to watch the bridge.

The first to die did so quietly. Mid-draw, his attention on the bridge, he did not see the Fourth until it was too late. Steel severed his bowstring, nicked the artery in the side of his neck. Gasping, he dropped his weapon to put pressure on the wound. Blood seeped between his fingers as he staggered backwards, hand reaching to brace himself on a lump of stone that was no longer there.

Plummeting over the edge, he opened the way for the Fourth to get at the second archer.

Deflecting an arrow from the air, the mercenary dodged and ducked as he closed on the man. Cursing, the bandit threw down his bow and drew his shortsword, his cries of alarm reaching the men down by the bridge.

The band's leader looked up in time to see the last of his archers die, a blade in his belly.

'Fuck! You three! Get up there and get him. The rest o' you, to the bridge. Do it-' An arrow whizzed by his ear.

Kicking himself, the Fourth drew another arrow from the dead man's quiver and laid it across his bowstring. He had never been much of a sharpshooter. Crossbows were more his thing. Simpler, easier to use. And they packed one hell of a punch.

Oh well. Needs must, he mused, letting fly another arrow.

@Moina Iasis

 

[Moina Iasis]

"Peony! Get across!" Moina shouted at the woman urging her to hurry. The Bull didn't need any more urging and dashed the few remaining feet toward the edge before leaping up onto the stone surface, axe already swinging as she joined the fray as more bandits came streaming from the camp hidden further back in the cavern. The Boneknitter's hand gripped the rope tightly as the bridge shook from the woman's running steps. She nearly dropped her bow as she didn't think about how much the bridge would shake at that pace. Another arrow zipped through the air, embedding in the rope near her hand. She watched with dread as a few of the strands snapped.

She felt movement on the bridge and looked up to see Rowana beginning to make her way across with Margrave following up behind. Another snap and her eyes widened. "Go back! The bridge is fraying!" Moina shouted back at the mage and mousekin. They didn't need further urging and retreated back to the stone ledge, but it was too late, the rubbing of the already rotten strands caused more to break and snap.

Without time to waste, she slung her bow over her shoulder and replaced the arrow in her quiver before running as fast as she could across the bridge toward Peony and the Fourth. She was nearly to the end, when everything felt suspended in time for a moment. The last of the rope fraying away and the tension leaving the bridge. There was a split second where she felt that she might have been floating, only to begin falling. Her hands grasping onto the rope in a scramble, swinging toward the opposite side to hit the wall forcefully. The impact knocking the air from her lungs and the rope slipping from her grasp. Moina fell a bit further before she managed to catch hold of one of the boards of the bridge, managing to stop her decent with a violent yank at her shoulder.​

 

[The Fourth]

The cluster around the bridge had grown hectic. Bodies twirled, cleaved or caught off guard by Peony's axe. Weapons flashed in turn, biting into leather and steel plate. Three to one, four to one. Up on the ridge, the Fourth was having an easier time of things. The bow was unfamiliar in his hands, but he made it work, felling one of the men scarpering into the rocks below with an arrow to the leg.

Again, he prayed to the Eight to put a crossbow in his hands, or else to encourage the bandits to just give up.

That's not likely to happen anytime soon, he mused, nocking another arrow. Peony was now going five to one. By all rights, she should have been dead by now. The bandits seemed to be fouling each other, however, and the Bronze Bulls had never been easy marks. Fourth released his arrow, then another. Out of the corner of his shroud-touched eyes, he saw the mender charging across the bridge to join in. A crazy brave, insanely stupid thing to do.

The ropes frayed and snapped before she ever got the chance, plunging the bridge into the river below.

The Fourth felt nothing; there was no time for grief or conscious thought. The fight was not yet done, and besides, he was not close to anyone in this group, Boneknitter or otherwise.

Still, poor lass. Movement along the ridge had him turning, an arrow nocked and ready. Two bandits, with maces and thick butcher's blades, approaching at a run. He nicked the first with the arrow, drew his long knives to meet the second. It was then he heard Peony cry out.

He didn't have the time to check on her. He was too busy fighting for his own life.

 

[Moina Iasis]

Her arms and hands ached as she grasped onto the wooden planks with all of her strength. The sound of the water rushing below sounded loud, even though she was still pretty high up the cliff where she was hanging. Her feet scrambled trying to find a place to settle, before managing to land on the thin edge of the board. She pulled herself up, the board jammed underneath her armpit as she stopped to catch her breath a moment.

A cry rang out above her and she knew she couldn't stop, couldn't wait. Reaching up she grasped onto the next plank and pulled herself up, like the rungs of a ladder. One step at a time until she was nearing the edge. The shuffling of feet were nearby as the bandits tried to push Peony off the edge just by sheer numbers. Blood dripped from the woman's arm and down her leg where they'd managed to get some lucky strikes in, an arrow sticking out of her shoulder.

Moina reached up grabbing the ankle of one of the bandits and pulling with all her force. They went over the edge with a scream. "Peony! Scoot forward." She urged and the Bull did the best she could. Enough the the healer was able to pull herself up. Her hand wrapped around the woman's calf and the shroud sang through her veins. The bigger woman's cuts and wounds healed. The arrow slowly worked it's way out of Peony's shoulder as the skin knit in place. The Bull's swings grew stronger as the Boneknitter switched from healing to buffing the woman. Making her stronger, faster.

Peony started working her way forward, clearing space ahead of her as she worked through the bandits and others turned and ran when faced with the stronger mercenary. Moina pulled her dual knives attacking a bandit that tried to get around Peony. Her knife slid into the bandit's side and she kicked him off it, dark blood pooling on the ground underneath the body as they bled out.

 

[The Fourth]

The Fourth wasn't much of a duellist. A fair fight was one that could go either way, but he had been in enough murder-brawls to know what worked and what didn't. In a two on one fight, going for the weaker opponent first was often the best play. One less weapon to cut you down. Of course, figuring out who to go for took some practise.

In this case, it was the guy with the cleaver.

Ducking a swing, the Fourth came up on his opponent's blindside, twin blades flashing. The leading edge caught the bandit across the side of the head, slicing through his leather skullcap. The second struck lower, at his neck. The man gasped, tripping over his own feet. He went down hard. The cleaver went with him.

A roar of anger made the Fourth dance back. Twisting, he swept aside the mace, just barely avoiding a blow to the shoulder. Bulling forward, his opponent used his weight to force the mercenary closer to the edge. Big and angry he could work with. It was the cold bastards you had to worry about.

Bellowing, the bandit struck again. The Fourth didn't bother parrying this time, merely went down on one knee, sacrificing his footing for the perfect kill-stroke. And it was perfect! A double thrust up under the man's chin. Quick and clean, though, probably not painless. Dying very rarely was.

Descending into the fray, the Fourth hit the bandits crowding the bridge from behind. He spied a wash of red hair through the throng of bodies. Something like surprise passed across his face. Blink and it was gone. 'And here I was thinking you'd gone for a swim.' Silvered steel blurred as the mercenary fought his way to Moina's side. Blood flecked his neck and face, dripped from naked blades to pool against stone.

'Know where the fuck Ro and Marg have gotten to?' He asked, driving his hilts into an unprotected belly. 'Cause they sure as shit ain't across the way anymore!'