One Night in Hommlet

"Oh, I'm sure." Liam was about to toss the hard crusty heel of the roll away but stopped and used it to point at me. "Dinner the night before is soup the next day and porridge the day after. These roadside inns are all the same. I bet there isn't even a name for half the meat that was in these!"

Ignoring his rant I continued. "The bath you wanted, Rowan, will also be a silver, but soap and clean bath sheets are provided." I sighed. "And it's going to be a gold piece a night to stable and feed all of our horses."

The reality of what was in our collective purse and what this village stay was going to cost settled in like lead in our bellies. It was, of course, Vallejo that gave the problem a voice.

The mage gave a small shake of his bald head. "So a night here will empty out our purse. And, let me guess, there is no other inn?"

"Not for about twenty leagues in either direction," called out a voice.

We all turned to see a tall bearded man approaching up the road with distance eating strides. He came to a halt right before us and placed his broad hands on his hips.

"I take it you have some issue with the prices here at the Welcome Wench."

"You're damn right we--"

Rowan put a silencing hand in front of Liam's face. The rogue continued to mumble against her palm for a second.

Vallejo stepped forward. "Tis not the prices, good sir. They are fair enough." The mage gave a rueful shrug. "Tis more the leanness of our coin that causes an issue."

"Ah." The bearded man looked us over, taking in the well-worn weapons that hung at every side and the dented -- though sound -- armor. "I might be able to help you there. If you're of a mind to trade services for services."

"How do you mean?" asked Rowan. "I have some small skill at healing, but--"

He held up a hand to stop her. "Nay, nay the town has a skilled healer. No, what I need is help of another sort."

"And just who are you, by the way?" asked Liam Von Sydow stepping around to stand more in front of Rowan.

"Ostler Gundigroot, owner and proprietor here at the Welcome Wench Inn."

"Ah, well tis good we didn't speak ill of the place in your hearing, good sir." Liam put his foot on the edge of the low stone wall, drew a dagger from his boot top and began to clean dirt from under his thumbnail. "Now, what exactly can we do for you? You have some problem that needs solving, I take it."

After giving him a slightly sour look Ostler turned more to Rowan and Vallejo. "I had three barrels due to arrive by wagon, here, hours ago. Wine and brandy. Now, I have just spoken with the town guards and learned that the wagoner was waylaid and badly beaten on the road to the west."

He stopped, not to pause for breath but to look around at the various shop fronts and dwellings that surround his inn. I noticed that there were beads of sweat starting to form on his brow.

"Now, in the not so distant past, there was an old moat house -- it's mostly fallen to ruin now -- that has been the home of various nefarious workers of evil. That a few bandits might have taken up residence there would not be a surprise to me. Honestly, if evil men want to live in a hovel, get menaced by giant frogs and mosquitoes the size of gray cranes it's not normally my business. But, when they steal my wine, it becomes a different matter."

"What is making you so nervous, innkeeper?" I asked, my voice little more than a whisper upon the air.

His eyes cut to me, then darted about. "To put it bluntly, I'm not as sure of some of my neighbors as I would like to be. Some seem to prosper when the wind blows ill if you take my meaning."

Vallejo nodded. "Aye. We've seen such betrayers before."

I at least hid my reaction to this lie. Willow ... not so much, but she luckily was beside her horse and thus was out of direct sight of Ostler Gundigroot.

"Well then, you must understand the need for discretion on my part. Now you are unknowns here." The innkeeper smiled. "If you were to encounter a group of bandits and slay them, well who would think that you were guided by me, or anyone else here in Hommlet?"

Anyone with eyes that sees you talking to us here across from your inn, was my first thought. Or anyone that wonders why we are allowed to stay at your inn, without pay, after we kill these bandits. Such was clearly going to be his offer. I kept my teeth together as he tossed his pitch.

"Go, seek them out. If you can recover my wine I shall give you -- all of you -- a weeks lodging per barrel that you bring back. And, if the fiends haven't drank it all, you somehow manage to bring me back my barrel of brandy ... well, let's say a month's full room and board for that barrel alone."

Rowan looked to Vallejo. "Seems like a fair exchange. West you say?"

He shook his head. "I said no such thing, but ... if someone went looking to find something like bandits, well, I would have to say that north, east, or south might not be the best direction to start looking."

** ** ** ** ** ** **

Liam Von Sydow was not a happy thief.

"So we're tearing off on dead tired horses, into the middle of swampy country, searching for bandits ... in the dark? What a wonderful plan!" Grumbling, Liam slashed out with his short sword and beheaded a passing cattail.

"We have an advantage," said Rowan.

"Yes, no one else would be fool enough to do it." A second cattail joined the first.

I gritted my teeth. "Liam! You mark our passage for any who might follow and your raised voice is carrying for dragon lengths before us."

Rowan gestured to me. "And there is our advantage. We have a ranger. A skilled ranger can track a black cat on a moonless night. And, Liam, forget not that I am half-elven. What is darkness for you is not but dim twilight before my eyes."

"I too can see in the dark," chimed in Willow. "At least out to about sixty feet or so."

"Harrumph. Well, that still leaves a few of us to stumble about in the dark as blind as cave bats."

Vallejo reluctant had to agree when Liam pointed at him.

Rowan held up a calming hand. "I can provide us with light should we encounter these bandits in the darkness. But look, the moon is already clearing the horizon. Soon there will be light enough to see the trail before us. Providing we don't waste the last moments of sunlight here arguing."

"Humph."

We rode along for a few miles in a blessed silence that calmed my nerves. It was, of course, too good to last.

"Hey, I have an idea." Liam turned in his saddle to look back at the others. "These bandits they've stolen wine. They are of course going to drink it. Let's forget the innkeeper's deal. We can wait, let them drink themselves into a stupor. Then -- once they are in their cups -- we can ride in, slit their throats, and take all that they have in their camp. Surely, if they have been raiding caravans they will have the stolen good at this moathouse. Perhaps coin? Or weapons?" He gave a sly grin. "We kill them take it all, sell it in town and then live like kings at that inn. Damn Ostler Gundigroot and his deals."

It was Vallejo that answered. "And if they don't? If they have rather, quite possibly mind you, sent all their stolen good away to be sold, and now have little or nothing upon them but dirt and fleas? If we do as you say, they will have drank up all the wine, we will still be broke, and our deal with the innkeeper be lost as well. What then?"

"Well ... we could--"

"You know I have always heard that a truly talented rogue could sneak into an enemy camp undetected. Purloin the meat from their spits, the weapons from their sides, and the coins from their purse. And then leave them none the wiser of the theft." Rowan said, with half a smirk. "Are you not such a man, Liam?

Liam Von Sydow eyed the cleric with clear distaste.

I couldn't hide my chuckle.

His eyes cut to me. "Shouldn't you be out front ranger-ing or something?"

Still laughing under my breath, I swung a leg off the saddle, dropping to the ground beside my horse. I gave him a calming pat upon his neck and offered the reins to Liam. "Mind my horse. The wagon must be just ahead, I can smell smoke."

The rogue took the leather straps and smiled. "If you die I'm selling this nag to the nearest pig farmer."

Ignoring him, I moved off into the high grass. The ground I noticed was a thick spongy turf, which awaited only a brief rain to become boot-sucking mud. I cut a roundabout path through the sawgrass and thick canes toward the burnt stench filling more and more of my nose. A thin column of gray smoke -- hardly a wraith of fog off the marsh -- arose before me. I crossed a path of broken grass showing the inbound trail of the bandits. And then, near the edge of the road, I discovered woven nests of grass and branches. Clever hunting coveys for men seeking prey more intelligent that birds or deer. They would easily have hidden any men who lay there from the elevated view of a wagoner.

Then I noticed that there was a scent of blood and burnt meat hidden under the smell of charred wood. A few moments more of listening proved to me that there was no one lingering. Stepping onto the road, I saw instantly that a dead horse -- pierced through with many arrows and half burned -- proved to be the source of the carnal and smokehouse reek.

A quick search and I found the outward bound trail the bandits had taken easily enough. They didn't even bother to hide their passage. With more light, I might have made a better guess at how long ago, but -- just to judge by the water gathering in their footprints -- they left here hours ago.

With a whippoorwill whistle, I signaled the others to approach.

"Well, what a mess this is," said Vallejo as he stepped down from his head. By habit, he ran a hand over his bald head then smoothed out his beard. "Liam, check the wagon ... well, what's left of it."

"Already on it."

"They left heading south of west," I reported when Rowan and Vallejo stepped up beside me. I pointed out the trail with a stick. "Their inbound trail is off that way too, but I would be willing to bet it circles that marshy patch and comes back around west."

"Why?" asked Vallejo.

"Further southwest the land slopes to what looks like a shallow valley. Given how swampy some of this area is, that area would be neigh impassable. But to the west, there is a rising, and I could see some rocky land even more distant. If I was going to set up a camp that is where I would place it. Plus, if I were laden with stolen goods, I wouldn't head straight for my lair. Not if I wasn't going to bother to hide my trail any better than they did."

"True!" Liam jumped down off the wagon. "It's an old trick, but it works. If you want to throw off pursuit you go the opposite direction. Then you can either double back and leave the path at a rocky area or look for a creek or river to follow after you laid the false trail." He held up an ax with the handle half burned away and a carter's whip. "My glorious salvaging efforts rewarded, eh? Now I can give up this life of crime."

"The ax might prove useful at least." Rowan shrugged. "They had time to take what they wanted. There was no reason for them to leave anything useful behind."

"True enough. It's what I would do in their place." Liam shoved the whip into his belt and tossed the ax from hand to hand. "Not badly balanced now for throwing." He glanced over his shoulder then did a double take. "Willow, what in the name of sin are you doing?"

Drawn around by his tone, I saw that our tiefling barbarian had taken out a knife and was carving bloody, half-cooked chucks from the haunch of the dead horse.

She smiled a bloody grin at our shocked expressions.

"That bit of bread earlier was good, but I'm still hungry and there is enough meat here to feed two tieflings." She glanced at the horse. "Maybe three ... if you could find three tieflings that would share."

"It's a horse!" said Liam in disgust.

She looked at the rogue. "It's meat. Already cooked. And, besides, where I'm from horse flesh is a delicacy." She grinned her fanged smile at him. "Like human."

Liam stepped back a step.

"Now hush, sweetie, you are interrupting my digestion." She went back to eating.

Leaving Willow to her bloody feast, I sought to prove my theory by following the inbound trail. Sure enough, it circled around and meet their outbound. I followed this path for a bit until it ended abruptly. Backtracking, I found where they diverged by luck as much as skill. I tripped over a rock and landed beside a muddy footprint on stone.

Standing up, I broke a reed and made an arrow on the ground for my companions to follow. I, however, managed only about thirty feet down the new path before I came to a stop.

There was the body of a man lying across the trail.

A dead man.

** ** ** ** ** ** **

"Coffee anyone? I'm for a cup." Mom got to her feet, stretched, and headed into the kitchen. "Or three."

"Yes please, Mrs. C."

"Does your mom have any herbal teas?" Todd asked me.

"I believe so. You could always go ask her."

John covered some notes and hopped to his feet. "Bathroom break for me. Be right back."

Leaning back, I took a sip of my soda and watched Belinda flipping through the Player's Handbook. I could see she had the book open to bards. As always with her, my eyes went to the cocoa-colored skin of her neck, half hidden under all those micro-braids. As Al Pacino said, a woman's neck has all the allure and mystery of a border town.

"You're staring at me, Richie."

"Sorry."

She looked up, her dark eyes twinkling. "I didn't say I minded it. Do you think I should maybe play a bard?"

"Not happy with the barbarian class?" Getting up, I moved around to her side of the table and knelt looking past her shoulder. "Willow is kick ass cool."

She shrugged. "So far I've not gotten to do much."

"Wait till we have something to fight. I promise you that is when that class shines." I gave her a grin when she looked at me, our faces so close. "Honestly, in a straight up fight, Willow would take my Kyle Umber in no time."

She gave me a smile, her eyes twinkling. "Tell me something, Richie."

"Sure. What?"

"That day in the cafeteria... " She grinned. "You know the one. When I plopped down next to all of you and started talking about D&D, what was the bigger surprise? That I was a girl or that I was black?"

Thought about it for less than a few seconds. "That you wanted to be seen with a bunch of gaming geeks like us."

Belinda game my arm a light punch. "I'm serious."

"Hell, so am I." I gestured to all the books, dice, and miniatures. "This is hardly the normal way a group of people spends Saturday night. And there you were a girl -- at least as pretty as any of Union High cheerleaders -- who was wanting to be seen with ... well, us?"

Philip came back in sipping at a steaming cup. "For me, it was the whole black girl thing. And I must say you have been a total stereotype let down, Belinda. You haven't twerked once." He snagged another slice of the now cold pizza and plopped down in his chair. "Not even so much as a hip shake. And have you even seen the movie Black Panther yet?"

She gave him a look.

"You need to learn to represent, my African sister!" Philip gave a head wiggle and a finger snap.

John came walking back in, paused in confusion, and then moved hesitantly towards his set.

Belinda looked over at him. "I want to rage."

The DM stopped in motion, his ass halfway to the chair. "Um, okay, why?"

Belinda gave Philip as wicked a grin as I have ever seen on her lovely face. "Because I'm going to kill Liam by tearing his head from his shoulders and then -- when Willow levels up from the experience -- I want to multi-class so I can then use his skull for a shamanic ritual to the voodoo gods."

Mom chose that moment to walk back in. "Not in the house please."

Belinda sighed. "Oh, I guess I can wait till we leave." She looked at Philip, gave her fingers a snap. "There, you get to live a bit longer."

"Alright, everyone. Where is Todd."

"Coming! Sorry, sorry. I had to wait on the tea to steep." With a sigh of the long-suffering, he eased into the chair, blew across his cup, took a sip of his tea, sighed in pleasure and looked toward John. "So we're headed toward the moathouse and Kyle the Ranger has found us a dead guy?"

John nodded, gave his glasses one last adjust, uncovered his notes and nodded again. "Pretty much."

He looked to me to see what I planned to do about the body.

"Um..."

** ** ** ** ** ** **

The place was once the outpost of the Temple of Ele....

The man was not only merely dead, he was really most sincerely dead.

But, that tends to happen when someone stabs you in the chest with a sword.

Repeatedly.

Kneeling down but keeping my knee off the rocky ground, I flipped the man from his side to his back and saw the dark stain where he had lain. A touch and a sniff confirmed blood. It was black in the moonlight, but nothing can hide that coppery smell. Looking up the path, itself all but invisible in the lambent moon-glow, I wished I was doing this hunt in the daylight. Say, more at dawn that dusk. Behind me, I heard hooves striking the harder ground so I gave my Whippoorwill sound and guided them to me by repeating it.

"Did you find a friend?" asked Willow as she approached and saw the body. "You didn't kill him, did you?"

I shook my head and stood up. "No, he was left here. I think this guy might be one of the bandits."

"Maybe they argued over the loot." Liam stepped up and looked down at the man by his feet. "Let's take a look, shall we?"

From his vest pocket, he took out a stub of a candle and then began to assemble a positively tiny lantern. Metal squares, a wooden handled, and I could see that it would be shielded on three of the sides and the top. A moments work with a flint and steel and he had the candle lit and into the lantern. Directing it's light he knelt and gingerly picked his way through the man's clothing. I could see that it was ragged and blood-soaked. The man's face was a haggard and time-worn map of his many years. He had the look of a man that had lived far too rough a life.

After a bit, Liam stood up and grunted.

"They stripped him. Before or after he died I can't say for sure." He toed the broken grass. "My guess would be just after, but well -- this wild-tracking isn't my gig -- but this looks like he was surrounded by his friends... " He looked at me and I nodded. "Yeah, but notice all these cuts are from the front? One man killed him and he was looking that man in the eye when the first blade hit."

Rowan joined us. "So they murdered one of their own, then all gathered in like vultures to loot the poor man's body before he was even cold. Despicable."

Liam shrugged. "Highwaymen are the lowest of thieves, and among their kind life is short and cheap." He looked at me. "Let's get away from here. The smell of all this blood might already be attracting something that's hungry."

Willow brushed past Liam. "I ate my fill at the horse. Besides he's raw." She gave the dead man a passing look. "And very dirty."

The rogue gave me a startled look and, with a shrug, I followed the barbarian girl up the rocky trail. It was hard to keep my eyes off the tiefling's muscular body, but the prospect of bandit lying in wait keep my mind -- more or less -- where it should be. When she crouched and held up a hand I froze in place. At her gesture, I eased forward.

Below us, the trail wound into a small depression. The silvery glint of water in the moonlight gave it a peaceful look that was betrayed by the broken stone structure sitting in the middle. Still a goodly distance away, the path to it seemed, if anything, to be growing even more ragged and overgrown than the trail we had followed.