There's something about shadows. Because you make your own mind up about what's lurking in them. - Richard O'Brien

Hank chased after the rest of Sabine’s team, catching up a few metres shy of where the bandits entered the wood. Hank hadn’t lied to Sabine about his tracking skill per se. He just hadn’t told her how high it was. Hank didn’t have a skill over level 7 and his tracking was only level 6. He was, at best, an initiate but he couldn’t afford to lose the wee people as villagers. He had to make this work.

In desperation he started intently studying the surrounding wood and ground. Fortunately for him the fleeing bandits had bashed and crashed their way through the forest intent on fleeing. It was easy to spot broken branches, grass crushed flat or swept aside, even the odd footprint here and there. Fritz almost ran through the footprints but Hank stopped him short. He needed to study the footprints carefully, he needed to be sure he tracked the right people. He needed to memorise any distinguishing features they may have.

Once he was confident he would recognise those various footprints elsewhere he indicated to Sabine they could head off. Over the next few hours Hank found he had to slow down so Sabine, Fritz and Marko could keep up. On the surface this seemed like a win for him and his stamina, but from experience Hank knew running at your cadence is easy for your body, running at someone else’s much harder. Hank foresaw he would have problems if they stuck to Sabine’s pace.

In the end his concerns were unfounded. They reached a stream, the bandits had wadded into. Everyone slowed down whilst he, Fitz and Marko all started searching for tracks leading out of the stream. It was clear that the bandits had run into the stream but less clear where they had left it.

Studying the footprints where the bandits had entered the stream left Hank convinced that their prey had turned upstream. He was on the point of mentioning this to Sabine when Fritz arrived, announcing that he and Marko had found the bandit’s exit further down stream. Both Hank and Sabine followed Fritz to the place he described, where Marko pointed down a small path and chatted to Sabine in compidge.

Hank slowed to look at the footprints in the mud. A brief examination was insufficient to convince him this was the correct path. An opinion he voiced to Sabine.

Before he had even reached the why Sabine cut him off. “You can come along as I said, but your behaviour at the ford and your poor reputation means that we are trusting Fritz and Marko, not you. Come or don’t it’s up to you.”

“He’s wrong.” Hank spoke.

“I’m not listening to you.” Sabine snapped back before turning to the rest of the group. “Lets go.”

The group jogged off down the path Fritz had found. Hank, having been relegated to the back of the pack by his most recent objections to Fritz’s guidance, went ignored. So he took the opportunity to check his most recent quest log.

Quest : Wee people’s chest

Part(s) :

All

Description :

The Wee people’s chest has been stolen. You will need to retrieve it.

Status :

Open

Reward :

Reputation with Wee people restored

Other unknown

Penalties :

Loss of villagers

Related quests changed to failure

Other unknown

“Quest is largely as advertised.” Hank muttered to himself. He changed to the SKAT log.

Log (Skills, Techniques and Physique)

Endurance Running has reached level 1, no bonuses, +10 xp

Tracking has reached level 7, +1% perception, +0.2% path finding, +1% spoor recognition

Tracking has reached level 8, +0.2% perception, +1% path finding, +1% sense of direction

Endurance Running has reached level 2, +0.5% stamina, +0.2% endurance

Something confused Hank about the log he was reading. What was the difference between endurance and stamina? He had bonuses for both. he couldn’t work out the effect of each and corresponding differences. He resolved to find out. But that was the last of the distractions, he ran on after the others.

An hour and a half later the track petered out at a small shack. It was obvious that they were the first people to enter the clearing in many years. It certainly didn’t have any bandits or locked chests. Rather than rubbing their noses in it Hank moved over to the small well. The water was cool and sweet, so he had a quick small drink and refilled his water bottle. Without much ado Hank started walking back the way they had come.

“Where are you off too?” Sabine yelled after him.

Without malice or glancing back he replied. “I knew this was the wrong way. Footprints leading this way were old. Now we have to back track for close on two hours before trying to pick up the trail again.”

Sabine shrugged “So, we need some rest.”

He stoped and turned back to face the three shorter people. “Sun sets in three or so hours. This isn’t Perison there’re no street lamps here. Do you know how to track in the pitch dark? I don’t. So we either hurry or let the bandits trail grow cold, which is it going to be?”

Sabine looked at him. Marko glared.

Hank turned to her. “Now it’s my turn to be blunt. I’m your best hope for finding that chest. I’m travelling at my pace. Come or don’t it’s up to you.” He turned back down the trail they arrived from and started to jog. Perhaps it had been rude to throw her own words back in her face. Perhaps. Hank decided he didn’t care.

An hour of hard travel saw them all back at the river. All four were winded. Hank’s stamina had drained to nothing, and the others were in pain from the pace. Hank left them catching their breath as he waded slowly upstream looking for the correct trail. Round a bend Hank came across numerous tracks both fresh and old leading out of the stream up to an animal track. “This is more like it.” He mumbled to himself.

Hank returned, collecting the group, to lead them off down the fresh path. Hank struggled for the next hour and a half with numerous back tacks and false turns as the sheer number of tracks mislead both Fritz and himself. However as the sun started to descend, and much to Hank’s relief, the trail crested a small hill and an open ing in the trees revealed a large clearing with a camp at the far end. They halted for a moment at the top of the trail before sneaking into the surrounding foliage. The camp was much larger than Hank had anticipated. He realised in hindsight it was foolish to think that all the bandits had participated in the raid.

There were close to thirty tents arranged higgledy-piggledy towards the far end of the clearing but there were also a few buildings. Building being a delicate way of saying dilapidated shanty type structures that probably leaked like proverbial sieves. Nothing was organised or set out in order, rather it looked like things were tossed together in a fashion that screamed ‘I don’t care’, even to Hank’s untrained eye. There was also no coherent plan for sanitation which, in Hank’s opinion, was nuts. Even his rudimentary understanding of city planning indicated that if they didn’t sort it out, sooner or later, disease would kill them in job lots.

On second thoughts, this was obviously a bandit settlement. So either someone in authority would come and clean it out or a bandit meaner that the rest would sort it out. Whilst Hank was certain that they had only allowed three bandits to escape, there were clearly more people in the settlement. To the south side of the camp there appeared to be a Wanderer’s train. Which was curious, this wasn’t the kind of place to attract the messengers of rulers, royal, dictatorial or elected.

Hank started to rise, intending to move in for a closer look, when Fritz clapped a hand over his mouth, pulling him into the undergrowth. It was just as well, two hundred metres away a patrol wandered towards them through the forest. If he had continued, he would have been spotted. Hank looked around at his companions as they quietly pulled further into the dense underbrush, noticing that Marko had disappeared.

A minute passed, Hank started to cramp for his awkward crouch, but his ears pricked up as he caught the last of sentries’ conversation. “No, it must be nothing. I just think that Sam’s still rattled from losing Gary and the rest of his team. Nobody followed him back. There’s nobody here. Let’s go back. We don’t want to miss sharing whatever is in that chest he brought back.”

The sentries slowly wandered further round the valley edge. Everyone waited for a good ten minutes before they made a sound. Fritz letting out a breath allowed Hank to ask question rattling around in his head since the sentries first appeared. “Where’s Marko?”

“He’s off doing what he does best.” Sabine answered in a whisper. “Sneaking around, finding out what’s going on, being nosy. We’ll wait here whilst we wait for him to return.” It looked like Sabine was assuming command again.

“So, he is a scout is he?” Hank whispered his question.

“He fills that role for us on occasions.” Sabine replied quietly.

“And, we just wait?” Hank asked.

“Well, this Sam seems to be planning on sharing the contents of our chest with all his sleazy friends, so you got us to the right spot. No need to rush in until we have the lay of the land and a valid plan.” Sabine seemed to have overheard the conversation just as well as Hank.

Resigned to a long wait, Hank made himself comfortable. The next thing he knew someone gently kicked him in the side, he’d obviously nodded off.

“Shh, we have a plan and you had better not give us away.” Sabine groused at him.

“What?” Hank was still a little groggy from the impromptu nap.

Marko growled something which Sabine translated as, “you were snoring.”

“Was I out long?” Hank asked.

“No. Now pay attention.” Sabine chided. “According to Marko, there are between thirty and forty bandits remaining. They've taken that Wanderer’s train and seem to be holding the people in it hostage, probably in the smaller of the two permanent buildings located in the middle area. The largest building is the kitchen, bar, gathering area, whatever you want to call it.”

“Darin fa’ de spart ‘em tussle.” Marko was being helpfully unintelligible.

“They fight for fun in there too. Probably the only entertainment they have here.” Sabine didn’t even think as she translated. “From what I can see there aren’t too many women.”

“Nort o’ ‘em fain t’ be.” Marko continued.

“If none of them want to be here, there must be something powerful keeping them. So, we will have to avoid assumptions. They may help us, they may hinder. Assume nothing, perhaps they fight perhaps not, we don’t know. So that pushes numbers up towards fifty in the worst case, if we’re lucky maybe as few as thirty five.”

Sabine paused thinking for a moment. “That’s a sizeable amount of variation. Given the fight at the ford, Fritz and I are good for twenty two, say twenty five bandits under normal conditions. Unfortunately, that leaves ten to twenty five for Marko and Hank.”

“I’ th’ brightness m’ twanger p’raps tenna p’raps t’elva ‘ut nay shina ‘nd nay can’a. M’ dolch barry i’ th’ nacht. P’raps fumfver nay mar.” Marko commented thoughtfully.

“Yes, I agree, that’s the core of the problem.” Sabine nodded.

“What’s the problem.” Hank hadn’t understood the conversation.

“Sorry forgot you don’t speak compidg. You really need to learn.” Sabine replied in a chiding tone.

Hank tried not to roll his eyes. Like he didn’t know. But you can’t learn an unfamiliar language in five days no matter how hard you try. So he drop it, asking a question instead. “So, Marko was saying?”

“He says he could take about ten to twelve in the daylight with his bow. But not in this light. When it gets dark, he thinks he could knife maybe five but no more. Which is a problem, Fritz and I can, at absolute best, take twenty eight to thirty of those bandits. We are fifteen short of the worst-case scenario no matter how we toss the dice.” Sabine stared intently at a mud-map she had scratched in the dirt.

“I can take some.” Hanks was a little incensed that they did not consider him.

“Fifteen.” Sabine was derisive.

“Well no, but if we wait until they are asleep before freeing some hostages I am sure that we can beat them.” Hank was confident.

“Free the hostages?” Sabine looked at him suspiciously.

“Yes, they can fight with us.” Hank was confident.

“And you’re convinced that they will fight? That they won’t wake the camp? That we can work out who are, ‘good’ and who are ‘bad’”. Sabine was in a belligerent mood, using the universal quote finger movements for both good and bad as she spoke.

“Well I hadn’t completely thought it through, but there is no way that the Wanderers want to be here. They are not like that. If we can find some of them to free, they will help.” Hank reasoned.

“They’re pacifists.” Sabine said with disdain.

“A common misconception,” Hank smirked. “I’ve met a few. They are neutral in warfare. That is not the same thing as being pacifists.”

“Yah, tis.” Marko interjected.

Hank was sure that Marko meant, ‘yes it is’, so he replied. “No, pacifism is an aversion to fighting for any reason at all. Wanderers think of themselves as the world’s only true diplomats. They do not take sides in conflicts, no matter how justified the antagonists think they are.”

Hank smiled remembering other days. “But the Wanderers had no problem killing the horse raiders who attacked one of their trains in the desert of Azin. I was travelling with a trader once, he showed me what was left of the raiding party after the Wanderers finished. It was… pointed.”

Everyone paused to consider the possibilities.

Sabine returned to her self appointed commander role. “Ok so we need to find the Wanderers, free them and hopefully get them to help. That can be your job Hank. Fritz and I will work our way from the northern side towards that sizeable meeting place building. Marko, your job is the sentries on the eastern and southern sides then come in from the east towards the meeting place.” She paused before asking, “Marko, What about guards on the river towards the west?”

“T’ bit sind righ’ close t’ th’ wash s’nay bell boys. ‘Em b’ t’ th’ nor’ or t’ th’ sou’ o’ th’ wash.” He responded.

“The camp backs up close towards the river so few guards. Most of them are towards the southern and northern ends of the river. Got it.” Sabine translated before handing out instructions again. “Marko, you take Hank in towards the south, once the guards are done shift east, Hank can sort out potential allies.”

“Are we killing or capturing?” Hank wasn’t sure what answer he wanted.

“To be honest, for the sentries I don’t care as long as it is quiet.” Sabine replied, leaving him just as uncertain as before asking the question.

“And when are we going to start this little invasion?” Hank asked.

“Lets aim for a little after midnight.” Sabine replied.

“Nay saf’ness i’ th’ blek o’ nacht” Marko commented.

“No that shouldn’t be a consideration the moon is close to full. We should be able to see fine.” Sabine responded to Marko without translating.

“Twill b’ um blinkin’. P’raps bell boys ken onsel’” It was the most that Hank had ever heard Fritz talk.

“Yes, I know that means they can see us. Which is why we need to wait until after midnight.” Sabine drew breath. “And before you say anything I know it means they will have opened the chest, meaning its contents will need to be reclaimed from various individuals.”

“‘Nd Hank truss uns wi’ th’ shine box?” Marko asked.

This last comment shut Sabine up, leaving Hank waiting for a response. After a moment he probed.“Whats that about? Apart from me.”