Part 3: A reckoning rides from the west

Osrik leans over to Katrin, still looking out at the newcomers. "I don't think so..." The group's leader stands with a relaxed slouch and smiles. "Out here in the middle a' nowhere?" he drawls. "No, miss, I was not."

Her eyes finally move from the weapons to the leader, and smiles back, but hers is ice cold.  "It's a hobby. We like being in the middle of nowhere."

Akiran's eyes rove across the band, well armed men with hard faces. Types like this wouldn't scare easy and won't leave without taking their due. His hand resting on the pommel of his sword as he regards their drawling leader. Though his voice is light and his snout is twisted in a human smile "Ya lot must have some important business ta get ta. Rarely see a crew so well armed in da middle of nowhere, ya hunting somethin?" Pausing for a moment before quickly adding as if he forgot "I'm bein' rude, Ya can call me Aki..."  Cutting his name off short before asking  "What should we call ya?"

"Strange hobby," he says. "You can call me Flinn, Mr. Aki. And as for us being so well armed, that's for when we run into unkind strangers."

"E'ery one needs a hobby" Slowly reaching for his flask, he adds in a cheery tone  "Well ...Mr. Flinn doubt ya run inta many who don't show ya kindness armed like that." Taking a sip of the flask he holds it out to Flinn "So what brings ya out here in da middle of nowhere as ya called it?"

"Well," Flinn drawls, "Those crates and barrels belong to us." Osrik cocks his head. "No, they don't," he says.

From the treeline, Renley counts all the men, making careful note of which seem the most armed, as the conversation seems to take a turn. He crouches, ready to dash in should the tension finally give way.

Katrin places a hand on her brothers arm. "I don't see any names on these crates," she says to Flinn. "What makes you say that they belong to you?"

"That is a conundrum, I'll grant you that," Flinn says. "Last time we came across this clearing, there happened to be some unmarked, unguarded crates. Some kind stranger had left us a gift! I said to myself, 'Flinn, you can't let this go to waste.' And I didn't." He takes a step closer. "I don't plan to now."

Katrin smiles, but it isn't a friendly smile. "Then we have ourselves a problem. Because these crates do belong to us."

Akiran's snout opens revealing glistening teeth with flecks of frost gleaming to them,    his hand resting lightly on the pommel of his blade as he speaks   "Well ya stole from us Flinn, that's not kind at all."   The dragonborn's cold grey eyes then rove making contact with the bandit's behind the man, as he calls out  "ya lot really willing ta die for a few barrels? Cause we're sure as shit willing ta kill for em! Better ta find some easier pickin's an' survive da day!"

Flinn sighs. "We need those supplies," he says. "Why don't y'all get back on your boat, and we can avoid any unpleasantness."

Katrin narrows her eyes. "These supplies were never set here for you. You were the ones who stole. And you're the ones who will pay the price. Besides," Katrin says, her hands growing warm, her eyes starting to glow. "I have a problem with guns."

In the shadows of the trees, Thrandimir's hands tighten silently around his staff as he prepares to craft an illusion that would give Katrin and Akiran the upper hand. Perhaps a hypnotic pattern... Then the wizard spots the tell-tale signs of Katrin gathering Tempus's power to her and it is clear that the time for action has come. A bevy of sparks erupts from the tip of Thrandimir's staff, spiralling through the air above the gathered posse. Half their number glance upwards and stare slack-jawed and agawp as their attention is captured by the enchantment. "Careful now," the wizard quickly tells Lilliana, "don't go setting the whole troupe ablaze, or they'll wake from their trance. Concentrate on the leader and pick off the stragglers."

The moment Katrin begins the obvious motions of spellcasting, Renley zeroes in on the leader. As Thrandimir’s magic leaves half the men catatonic, he beelines for Flinn, closing the gap in seconds. Immediately he lays into the man, attempting to disable him with targeted strikes at key nerve clusters. Wasn’t exactly a very ‘doctorly’ technique but sometimes he saw the best way to keep patients healthy as keeping non-patients dead. Unfortunately, the studded leather seems to do better at absorbing the blows than he’d anticipated, and Flinn remains aware as Renley begins considering his next moves.

Lilli looks over at Thrandimir with a look of disappointment as she was already starting to draw entropic energies from the jet necklace, but she nods as she looks down at the energy which was already starting to coalesce into a sphere. She wondered if perhaps she can make smaller  versions of the massive explosions she had created in Crossroads. She focuses hard into the rapidly spinning sphere and uses her control over gravity to begin fracturing it into several smaller, magenta colored stars. She then uses that same control of gravity to cause them to begin orbiting around her before she sends two of them hurtling off towards two of the men unaffected by Thrandimir’s spell. The two miniature fireballs explode upon impact and sear both of the men!

A sigil in emerald green blazens briefly across Flinn's chest before it fades, so quick he doesn't know if anyone else even saw it. Ascian's bow lifts as it has a thousand times before, aiming for the heart of those fading flames, but the unexpected flash of Renley in his line of sight proves a distraction he hadn't expected. When the arrow looses it whizzes past the man's shoulder and then too Flinn's, disappearing into the distance as Ascian blinks.

Flinn sidesteps the arrow from the trees and throws his arms back, his duster flaring out, revealing two braces of pistols hung by leather straps beneath his arms. He pulls two of them free and fires them point-blank into Renley. One bullet tears straight through the monk's shoulder, but the other weapon explodes in a flash of black smoke. He tosses the pistol away, shaking his hand in pain. He uses his good pistol to push Renley away and backpedals into his men.

Thrandimir moves in lockstep with Flinn as the man retreats north, his eyes fixed on the object of his ire. The wizard chants fell whispers and words of doom to chill the man's blood and Flinn flinches before Renley in response to the psychic assault.

Renley hardly reacts to the violent  bang  and sudden hole in his shoulder save for a pained grimace. The shot hit clean, for sure — the tattered hole in his vestments going clean through to the other side show as much — but that's all that is there. Little in the way of blood pours out, and the good doctor seems more curious about the weapons the man had produced from his jacket than the effects of them on him. Taking a moment to poke a finger through the gaping flesh, he turns back to Flinn and shrugs. "Rather curious trinkets yuh got there monsieur , you won't mind if Ah take a look at 'em once yuh dead, will you?" He lunges forward, again closing the distance between the two of them in hardly a second and with hands flared out like pointed claws as, visible only to the man in the leather duster, Renley's incisors lengthen into twinned fangs that sink quickly into the side of his neck. For several seconds the doctor, enshrouded by his billowing cloak and wide-brimmed hat, latches onto Flinn, his eyes rolling back in relief at the flow of crimson warmth. When he finally releases him, the man looking a bit paler than before, the wound in Renley's shoulder has already started closing up. He grins, red dripping from his lips still, then vanishes in a blur of movement through the trees once more.

Katrin's eyes glow brighter, and her fingertips grow warmer as she walks towards the group of thieves now being assailed by everyone from the trees. Her eyes are locked on to one of the sharpshooters. His rifle begins to glow. First dull orange, then bright red, then blinding white as the metal that constructs it becomes hot to the touch. Miraculously, the man doesn't lose his grip, but the weapon does lose it's own as it fires. The bullet whizzes past her head, missing by no more than a few feet, and disappearing into the trees behind her.  It's only once the bullet misses that she realizes her hand had been gripping the strap of her shield so hard her knuckles were taut and white. The shoulder her uncle had shot when she was a child aches. And she's made up her mind: none of these weapons would survive to fire another bullet. Because innocent people would always get in the way. She had been innocent then. She wasn't about to let more innocent people get hurt because of Ragnerk's poor choices.

The rifleman stares blankly at the weapon for a moment before squatting down and gingerly placing it on the ground. He looks up and seems to realize that many of his companions are trapped in a dumbfounded stupor, staring at nothing. He runs over to his partner rifleman and shakes him, tearing the stars from the mans eyes with near-desperation.  "Alright, you smelted piles of Rattenscheiße , let's go," Osrik says as he joins his sister in charging forward. He pulls two small hammers from his belt and throws them, one after another. The second hammer dings off one of the soldiers' kettle helm, making the man grimace. Grumbling, Osrik pulls his warhammer from its ring on his belt.

Lilli directs two more of the miniature stars arcing high into the air to streak back down into the battlefield, targeting two of the riflemen this time, but these two are quite nimble and dodge away from most of the blast. She then reaches up to her necklace and draws out a mass of pure entropic energy that she begins to form into a semi-cohesive orb with her powers of gravity. The energy shifts and flashes into various states of matter and energy rapidly, barely contained even within the gravitational field. She quickly sends the chaotic bolt streaking towards Flinn, slamming into the man with a burst of brilliant white flash of a lightning bolt!

Ascian strings another arrow, tracking the same man as before. This time when he misses he looks down at Ember beside him, as if expecting the wolf to be just as surprised as he.

Ember's eyes seem to track up to Ascian, indeed looking somewhat surprised -- as much as a dog can. It only last for a moment. The wolf growls toward Flinn and his men, head low to the ground, as if ready to charge at a moment's notice. A couple of Flinn's men that have broken through Thrandimir's illusion shake their comrades awake. "They're picking us off at range," one shouts to another. "Get in close!"

The riflemen in the group stood out enough but when Flinn pulled out another gun Akiran knew that these men were not just bandits. The guns mixed with Flinn's drawl all another reminder that the Heartlands was pushing into his people's territory. A fact the Dragonborn had taken great pains to ignore in recent years. But seeing it all laid out in front of him sent the Dragonborn into a rage. Drawing his blade he charges forth, overtaxing his muscles to reach the leader. Akiran leaps at the leader, Akiran swipes his shield attempting to knock the man from his feet. But Flynn proves too quick, gathering his footing Akiran darts forward, his helmed head crashing into Flinn sending the man to the ground. Akiran then hesitates a moment his blade poised for the kill before slamming his armored boot into the mans face. Leaving the man unconscious with a bloody mess of a nose. Muttering  "Ya ain't gettin of that easy Flinn" as he spins and gets into the faces of the riflemen. 

Hidden by the cover of night, Thrandimir continues to quietly advance between the trees. As Flinn falls, the wizard shifts his focus to the man still holding his rifle. The psychic enchantment follows, casting the man's mind into disarray.

Renley licks the last drops of red from his lips as he ducks for but a moment behind a tree, hearing distantly Akiran's words followed by the dull thud  of a metallic boot hitting bone. He slips back around the other side of the trunk to confirm Flinn was down and seemingly out on the ground as the dragonborn advanced on more of his men. Seeing the opportunity to sidle up unnoticed, he dashes across the grass at a breakneck pace, coming up behind the first man with a rapid-fire series of blows to the joints and one final one to the neck that seems to send the man like a stone to the ground. The other one to his side, blinking in a confused state as if not entirely sure of himself, hardly can react as he maneuvers around the men's stopped cart, his pace unbreaking as his feet transition from the ground to the side of the wooden vehicle without missing a beat, and with a feeling not unalike adrenaline coursing through him, lashes out with clawed fingers that sink into exposed flesh. The area immediately begins to burn black, veins bubbly under the skin and up through his face. When he releases his hold, the body drops as well. Renley hardly stops to consider Akiran, only briefly flashing a grin beneath his wide-brimmed hat as he vanishes into the trees once more, leaving two bodies and one fewer rifle than before.

The gun that had been abandoned by the rifleman continues to smolder and burn in the grass as Katrin draws her sword, charging across the field towards the enemies who had just been awakened from their stupor. She lunges out with a downward slash as she reaches the enemy, cutting into his shoulder, but only barely.  "Rattenscheisse? Really? Rats are much better than these pieces of shit ever will be."

Osrik follows suit, slamming into the same man that Katrin had injured. He brings his hammer up in what would have been a killing blow, if not for the man's helmet. The man still takes a hard hit to the head and staggers, still somewhat dazed. "It's not as if I had a lot of time to come up with a one-liner," Osrik grumbles.

Just as Lilli thinks she might be able to quickly end the remaining foes, all her companions rush into the fray and dash her hopes of any large explosive spells. Instead she quickly sends two more of the miniature stars dropping down onto the middle of the enemies near Katrin and her brother, felling two. She then sends another mass of entropic energy hurtling towards another enemy which explodes with a thunderous retort! "I think we are doing pretty good, Ascian!"

"You all are," he responds vaguely, lowering his bow. There's a strange mix of guilt and calm at the recognition of his exclusion from the collective that pushes him to the front of his toes. "I'm going to get closer." Momentum propels him after Thrandimir at the edge of the trees, Ember taking off silently at his side. This time when the wisps of white peel from his skin it's almost familiar, and Ascian watches them jettison into the nearest warrior out of his peripheral vision as he skulks past the wizard through the semi-dark.

Wounded by what appears to be mist, the warrior that Ascian hit looks around wide-eyed. "That's enough, that's enough," he shouts, tossing his spear and shield to the ground. He raises his arms, looking back at his few remaining comrades. Those in control of their wits follow suit, tossing their weapons to the ground -- though the one still under Thrandimir's charms stares at the empty sky in wonder.  "You ripped through us like we're nothing," the man says. "You're not bandits."

“Neither ah you,” Renley laughs, stepping back out from around a tree, “Not with all that fancy tech.”

Katrin looks at the man. "Where did you get them? And don't lie. I have no problem ripping through the rest of you." Her voice is quiet and deadly, eyes still glowing as the weapon she'd targeted continues to smolder on the ground.

From the shadows beneath the trees emerges the wizard, leaning on his staff as he walks, the wide brim of his hat hanging low over his eyes. "You should listen to her," he advises the man, "because I will know ." Muttering words of divination, Thrandimir brandishes his staff at the prisoner, incanting the spell for reading thoughts. The wizard then meanders towards Flinn's unconscious form, looking around for the man's pistol with bright and curious eyes. 

Rummaging through Flinn's duster, Akiran pulls free something alarming -- a set of dogtags. The tiny script engraved into the metal reads: Arthur Flinn Captain, 14th Irregular Company Virid Heartlands Armed Forces The man that had spoke to Katrin notices this. "There's your answer," he says, some of the fear in his voice replaced with self-satisfaction. He pulls his own tags out from beneath his tunic.  "We were supplied with them. By our quartermaster back at camp." He looks at Katrin. "Do you know how much trouble you've brought down on yourselves?"

Katrin goes cold, her concentration on the heated gun wavering then fading as the full realization of who these men were crashes onto her. She looks at Osrik, locking eyes with her brother, an emotion in them that Katrin hadn't felt in a long time. Fear. "This is the excuse they needed," she says, looking back at the man.  Soldiers. Heartlands soldiers. What the fuck have we done....  

Renley whistles a chipper tune as he walks up closer to the others and kneels near the man. "Well that suhtainly puts all'uh us in a bit of a bind, mon ami . You soldiers often make a habit of not identifying yuhselves before attacking folk out in the woods?"

The prisoner's thoughts are a panicked mess of fear for a dead friend and his own fate. Slowly, Thrandimir bends to lift Flinn's pistol from the ground. He hefts the unusual weapon in his hand, before levelling it experimentally at the talking soldier. "It's no trouble at all if nobody knows that we were ever here," the wizard remarks with menace in his voice. "Sending you off to join poor Jimmy is as easy as pulling this lever, isn't that right?"

"For all we knew, you coulda been Cape sympathizers," he says to Renley. The man's eyes lower to the weapon. A brief laugh escapes his lips -- a nervous sound. "Sure, yeah," he says. "If it wasn't empty."

"Really?" Thrandimir muses in response. The wizard's arm drifts to the side and he pulls the trigger, eliciting a sharp crack and a muzzle flash from the weapon, which leaves a blackened hole in the earth at their feet. His demonstration complete, Thrandimir trains the pistol on the prisoner once more. "Are you quite sure about that?"

Katrin, still caught up in her own thoughts, is not expecting the shot. As the crack rings through the clearing, she's thrown back 34 years to the banquet hall, and the flash of a rifle muzzle, the loud bang that echoed in the halls, the sudden pain as the bullet ripped through her shoulder. She scrambles back from the man, from Thrandimir, from the gun in his hand and the smoking hole he'd created in the ground, throwing her shield in front of her, hiding behind it on hands and knees, her breaths coming more rapidly as she struggles to fight off the sudden wave of panic that sweeps over her. And in that moment, she's 15 again. And very afraid. 

Akiran's scales flex and his grow hard as he looks at the dog tags in his hand. Soldiers of the Heartlands here stealing food from his people, the same clans that exiled him away. The weight of the tags, solidifying that this was real. Most day he tried to forget the war, on his darker days he felt that his people deserved their fate. But with the cold tags dangling in his hand it was something he could no longer deny. The echoing blast of the gun startles Akiran out of his thoughts. Looking from Thrand to the man, his voice steady and cold  "Ya got guts ta keep runnin' ya mouth. Smarter for us ta just gut ya an' forget about this. And ya bein' a smart ass won't make that any harder." His tone taking on a soothing quality  "But if ya answer our questions an' cut da shit talk, maybe ya big mouth can live ta talk some more."  Looking back at the tags,   " I've run with some Irregulars, most I knew used ta be mercenaries. Ya lot serve with a company before & are the anymore of ya out there that we should know about?"

The man -- clearly a soldier -- flinches at the gunshot. He swallows as Akiran talks, sweat beading on his face. "Cap left a couple men behind when we saw your lights," he says. "With orders to get back to camp and report if...if something went wrong." Osrik's hand lands gently in Katrin's shoulder. He doesn't speak, he just crouches down next to Katrin, concern on his face.

Thrandimir glances from Katrin and then back to Akiran. "If he's lying and we kill them, we're ghosts. If he's telling the truth, it makes no difference either way. I say we feed them to Segoa."

The trees are gone, the sky is gone, replaced by the memory of vast caverns and soaring columns. The sound of heavy oak doors crashing open and angry voices. Katrin stands up, her eyes wide as Uncle Ragnerk, her father's brother, raises a strange and deadly looking weapon and levels it at Ulfgard. There's a ringing in her ears, and she starts running. Time slows down as Ragnerk pulls the trigger, the loud crack as a flash of light and smoke sparks from the weapon. With a last, desperate surge of energy, she jumps in front of her father. Her body jerks back as something tears into her shoulder. She's thrown back into the table behind her, falling to the ground. Her shoulder throbs, pain spiking down her arm and across her chest. Her vision blurs, warm blood spilling down her arm, and the room spins above her.  Shouting voices are muffled, her limbs feel sluggish. Hands grab onto her arms and legs, and she just make out a voice that sticks out from the rest. She blinks, and her father's face comes into focus.  "Katrin, you're going to have to be very brave."  She can see him glance up, and she turns her head slightly to see her mother kneeling on the other side, her face grim, a pair of....what she can only assume are blacksmith's tongs. And then they begin to glow red, and she can feel heat radiating from the metal.  "No, no,"  she whimpers, looking back at her father.  "Please no--"  but her pleas are cut off as a leather strap is placed between her teeth.  "Bite down on this,"  her father says, brushing back her blond hair from her face.  "And squeeze my hand."  He gives a nod, and a horrible, searing pain pierces her shoulder. She grits her teeth, her scream muffled by the piece of leather clenched in her mouth. Both hands tighten around her father's, so tight that her knuckles go white and she fears she might break his hand. But as quickly as it came, the pain lessened, and immediately pressure was placed on the wound. Everything spins, and her vision blurs. And as the pain subsides, Katrin loses consciousness.  Katrin's eyes are shut tightly, the voices of everyone else muffled and distant as she's trapped inside her memory. Osrik's hand on her shoulder is the only thing keeping her tethered to reality, that it's just a memory, and Ragnerk can't hurt her or her family anymore. But she can't break free from the prison of that day, as it plays itself out over and over again in her mind.  Katrin grabs her brother's hand, trying to claw her way back to the present. 

Akiran stays silent for a moment and then gives a short nod to Thrand. Lie or not the gun shots would likely draw attention, they would need to make a decision quickly. Thrand's thoughts echo his own, letting them live held no upside and nothing but danger. His only hesitation, the pledge he made to Tempus. To try and do good within the world. On it's own slaughtering these men wouldn't be considered righteous, but it could it truly be good to let them live to continue murdering his people? With a forceful shake of his snout he tries to push the dilemma out of his head. Akiran's gauntlet tightly grips his hilt, turning to the prisoners his tone cold and sharp  "Ya heard em, he's a devious fucker but he's da smartest one here an' he agrees that we should gut ya. Ya better speak up quick an' tell us what else ya unit's doing here, give us a reason not ta do it"

Ascian's all but deafened to the negotiations around him, his eyes fixated on Katrin as the dwarf turns inward in a way he's never seen her do before – but has felt pinch his own features many times. Crossing behind the others, he walks quietly to crouch beside her, gesturing for Ember to butt against the hand not clenching her brother's, as the wolf had for him a dozen times before. Glancing hesitantly at Osrik, he then looks back to her to ask softly,  "Katrin?"

Katrin has lost all control, her breathing ragged and uneven as she drowns in the memory of the worst day of her life. Her hands are shaking, causing her to dig her fingers into Osrik's hand, her other hand clenched in a fist.  "Katrin?" Then a nudge against her fist. Tentative at first, then insistent. And it's...soft. Fur. Ember. And then there's still that ringing in her ears. But instead of just muffling the voices around her, it muffles the memory she's trapped in. "Katrin?"  Her fist relaxes, then her fingers curl into the thick fur on Ember's head. The gunshot she hears over and over in her head sounds further away; her breathing slows but still comes out erratically. She loosens her grip on Osrik slightly, blinking open her eyes. Her shield is lying on the ground beside her, she's crouched down on her knees, staring at the grass. Her eyes flicker over to the large wolf staring at her with large, grey eyes. And then she looks up at the person who's voice had somehow reached her through the sea of emotional turmoil. "Ash..." her voice comes out as a whisper, so quiet she's not even sure she said anything. She looks at her brother. "Os...." then she looks at Ember. And grey eyes. She shifts from her knees unsteadily, wrapping her other arm around the wolf's neck, burying her face in his fur.