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Snix used his sharp claws to cling to the covered wagon’s underside, tucked behind the rear axle. He wasn’t a strong creature. Strength wasn’t necessary for stealth. But he was tireless, both mentally and physically. He could hold onto the bottom of the wagon for days, just as he could fly for days. He was neither swift nor fast in flight, and struggled making headway against a stiff twenty mile-per-hour wind.
Being under the wagon kept him out of sight, and remaining in the rear kept him distant from the druid and his crystal. The blue jay familiar flitted about, and scouted ahead. Snix’s camouflage worked well, especially in a stable environment. And his primary natural bane against blending in completely was shadows. His enchanted nature could not overcome that obstacle. He worked around it.
So Snix rode and did what he did best: listen and observe.
“You will lose coin on the bricks.” It was the gruff yet feminine voice of the hired animal handler, Lilac. The woman was built like a barrel. She wore a chainmail shirt and carried a war hammer slipped through a loop on her broad belt. That was odd for an animal handler, hired to share duty driving the wagon with the druid. Her unruly, but otherwise straight brown hair, didn’t quite reach her shoulders. It framed an unremarkable face, except for her nose, which was bent at an angle, probably broken and not properly healed.
All of those pieces suggested Lilac was also hired because she could fight. The road north to Shorn Spearhead wasn’t particularly dangerous, except where it neared the Dark Heart Swamp.
The Brick House was midway to Shorn Spearhead. Snix had stayed with his master twice in the fortress-like establishment. It could be a dangerous place, depending on the travelers lodging in it.
“I told Lysine that,” the half-goblin thief said.
He, along with the gnome healer, was sharing the bench seat with the wagon’s driver. The big warrior rode ahead on his horse named Four Banger. It didn’t appear to be a particularly large or fast mount, but showed to be rugged and reliable.
The druid and the elf magic user were in the wagon. The former was asleep at the front. The latter was tossing and turning. In his experience elves didn’t sleep. They entered a detached daydreaming state. Beyond her unusual bodily proportions, the elf maiden didn’t have the mannerisms of an elf. If asked for an assessment by his master, he would say that she was probably raised by humans.
After an exasperating sigh the half-goblin, Gurk, continued. “We could’ve waited for a caravan and joined that.”
“Lysine calculated the time versus money,” the gnome said. “He thinks time is more important to our mission’s success.”
As far as Snix knew, the party hadn’t revealed the mission’s details to the driver.
“Well,” Gurk said, “it meant a job for you, Lilac. And good coin in your pocket.”
“That’s true,” Lilac said. “Your party pays good coin.”
Jax lowered his gnome voice. “I think Marigold is happy to have another woman on the road.”
Lilac snapped the reins. “A little more coin would’ve gotten horses,” she said. “If time is important, they’re faster than oxen.”
“Maybe we pay good coin for a driver,” Gurk said, “but we ain’t nowhere near rich.”
His master had given a reasonable advance in gold, and the party of adventurers spent some of it on the wagon, oxen, bricks and supplies.
Snix was to steal back the eight sizable rubies meant to exchange for the Wand of Foe Detection, if the party decided to run off with them. That would be a challenge, since the party split the gemstones among themselves.
And if they decided to run off with the wand, or it was somehow wrested from their control, Snix was to do his best to retrieve it and hide. His master would have to send help because the wand was too large to fit in his abdominal pouch, and his magical camouflage didn’t extend to anything he carried outside of it.
The morning blended into afternoon and began to close in on early evening. They’d left behind the small settlements and farms and entered the region not often frequented by guard patrols.
The party was nearing a spot where travelers commonly spent the night, near a stream that flowed close to the road. There was even a small fire pit filled with ashes. Snix prepared to drop off the bottom of the wagon and trail behind rather than risk being detected by the druid or smelled by the gnome.
Seconds after the homunculus dropped onto the road and huddled motionless as the rear wagon wheels trundled past, the blue jay came flying fast on the wing and landed on his master’s shoulder. The elf sat next to the druid driving the wagon. The gnome, half-goblin and stocky female driver were asleep in the wagon.
The elf stood up, but quickly sat down again. “Petie says there’s humans laying in the deep grass on both sides of the road.”
The druid placed a pair of fingers in his mouth and let out a sharp whistle. Watching to see if the big warrior riding fifty yards ahead of the party had stopped, the druid asked, “Are the prone humans dead? Or are they attempting to conceal themselves?”
The bird chirped and warbled.
The elf turned from her familiar to the druid. “Petie says, they are not dead and not asleep, and they are arranged in lines.”
“Can your familiar provide the number potentially lying in ambush?”
About that time, the big human warrior had returned and drew his mount close to the slow-moving wagon. “That bird see something?” he asked.
“He spotted an ambush,” Marigold said with pride. Then, with a bit of scorn, she added, “His name is Petie.”
“How many?” the big warrior asked. “How are they armed?”
The druid replied, “That is what I am attempting to ascertain.”
The half-goblin thief shuffled up to the bench. “What’s up?”
The elf answered, “Petie spotted an ambush ahead.”
“He did?” the thief asked. “And we’re still moving toward it?”
Snix flew slowly, keeping pace above and a short distance behind the wagon.
“My objective in only retarding our forward progress and not coming to a halt,” explained the druid, “is to avoid alerting the prone individuals that may intend to ambush us.”
“Don’t you think whistling me back already done that?”
“How many?” asked the thief, ignoring the big warrior’s question. “How are they armed?”
The big warrior snarled, “I already asked that.”
The thief threw up his arms. “So what’s the answer?”
“What’s going on?” the gnome asked.
“Shut up, gnome!” the big warrior growled. “Marigold, you ain’t a newbie PC anymore. Tell us what we need to know so we don’t end up getting our asses handed to us by a stupid Wandering Creatures Encounter.”
Snix flew down, alongside the wagon, maintaining his distance. The elf closed her eyes in concentration, like his master did when trying to recall a vision that Snix had shown him. “Twelve. Six on each side.”
“What’re they armed with?” the big warrior asked again, working to keep his horse pacing alongside the ox-drawn wagon.
The elf squeezed her eyes closed, scrunching up her nose. “It’s hard to tell. Petie flew over quickly. Spears, he saw those. Some leather tubes with feathers—those have to be arrows.”
“Quivers,” the half-goblin corrected.
In the Monsters, Maces and Magic Monster Guide, a band of brigands is frequently comprised of twelve individuals,” the druid said. “Often equipped with a variety of weapons.”
“Well, there ain’t no way they’re gonna surprise us,” the big warrior said. “And they gotta know we’re onto them.”
“Your proposed plan of action?” the druid asked.
The warrior said, “We ride up normal until they’re close.” He gestured to the female driver. “Lilac, here, keeps the wagon going as fast as four oxen can pull it. I ride in and hack them to bits while you all jump out of the wagon and do the same.” He paused. “Except for you, Elf. You memorized a Slumber Spell?”
“Yes, and Mystic Missile.”
“Okay, that means you’ll sleep 1D4 +2 on your side of the road. Then you and the gnome go clean up what’s left standing. I’ll ride at the other side and take a couple out. Then Lysine and the thief help me mop up.”
“Sounds good, dude,” said the half-goblin. “When do we attack?”
“The elf’s bird familiar—” the big warrior started.
“Petie,” she interrupted.
The big warrior rolled his eyes. “When her bird familiar, Petie, shows her we’re close enough.”
“Or,” the druid said, “when the brigands rise from their prone position in preparation to loose a volley of arrows toward us.”
“Why so pessimistic, dude?” the thief asked. “They’ll probably ask us to surrender first.”
Several minutes later, with the big warrior still riding his horse beside the wagon as it trundled down the road, Snix observed them getting close to the intended ambush site. The druid and half-goblin were on the bench, on either side of the female human driver. The half-goblin checked the darts in his bandoleer while resting his hand on the grip of his cutlass. The druid had his spear lying alongside him. The elf and gnome were beneath the canvas of the covered part of the wagon.
Off to their right a big crow feasting on the carcass of a recently killed groundhog cawed and took flight. At the same time the blue jay familiar, two-hundred feet in the air, circled to return.
“That’s it!” The big warrior pulled his sword and kicked his horse into a gallop.
He angled to the left while the druid and half-goblin leapt from their seats onto the deep grass that lined the hard-packed road. The elf leapt out of the back, onto the road. She jogged along and helped the gnome as he nearly tumbled out after the driver snapped the reins to get more speed out of the normally lumbering oxen.
The big warrior closed to forty yards when a whistle brought all of the brigands, hidden on both sides of the road, to their feet. They were dressed in mixed types of armor, but mostly along the lines of leather or a mail shirt. All but one were armed with bows, now drawn back and ready to fire their arrows. One gray-bearded brigand raised his staff and shouted, “Fire!”
Several arrows pinged off the big warrior’s breastplate, and one off his helmet. One arrow, however, buried itself in his mount’s shoulder. The horse slowed but continued forward. That side of the road ignored the charging druid and thief.
On the other side of the road, the gnome held his wooden shield high, trying to protect the elf crouched behind him. She was speaking the words to a spell.
She completed her incantation the same instant the six men loosed their arrows. Three collapsed to the ground like damp sacks of wheat. The elf shouted, “Ouch! Why do they always shoot me in the boob?”
Right after that the man with the staff completed his spell. The big warrior and his mount dropped to the ground like those across the road, but harder as they were moving fast.
Brigand shouts filled the air. As the druid and half-goblin charged they both yelled, “Magic user!” Each brigand nocked another arrow.
The druid hurled his spear and the half-goblin threw a dart while on the run. The spear struck the magic user a glancing hit on the thigh, and the dart caught an archer in the cheek. Five arrows came back at the adventurers from point blank range. The thief dodged both aimed at him. The druid took one arrow in the shoulder. He drew his short sword and ran past the slumbering warrior and his mount.
On the other side of the road the gnome charged as the elf trotted to keep pace behind him. She stopped and looked up. “Petie!”
In the air above the blue jay was locked in an aerial fray with a big crow. It had to be the enemy magic user’s familiar. The crow was bigger and stronger, but not as nimble in the air.
Snix ascended toward the battling birds as they lost altitude. The blue jay made his spying job harder, but was an asset to the party. They might need him later, once they got his master’s wand.
Only two shot arrows at the elf and gnome. One had taken to slapping a fellow brigand and shouting for him to get up and fight. The gnome’s shield proved effective in deflecting one arrow, and the magic user used an unexpected move. She knocked the arrow aside with a well-timed sweep of her hand. Snix had never seen a magic user do that before.
Letting the gnome continue on forward, the elf turned and cast a second spell. A single pink mystic missile shot from her pointed finger across the road and struck the enemy magic user.
The magic user redirected his spell at the elf. Two glowing gray mystic missiles struck her. She backpedaled a step but didn’t go down. Neither magic user was powerful, but the brigand was stronger than the elf. Again, Snix was surprised. The elf was still standing, despite an arrow wound and two mystic missiles.
The homunculus took a moment’s attention away from the battle on the ground and focused on the two birds now less than ten yards away. Snix knew that in a fight, his claws weren’t very effective against creatures the size of humans. But he was bigger than the crow, and he could easily tip the fight’s balance.
He only needed to adjust his position by a few feet. When they came into range he struck out with a claw and came back with black feathers. He immediately shook his hand to loose the feathers from his claws.
Wounded, the crow cawed and went on the defensive, with the blue jay getting above and behind, and pecking down. The crow dove and swooped to his left, the blue jay followed, jeer calling.
Back on the ground, the druid and half-goblin thief were in the middle of a melee with the magic user and five brigands. Bows had been discarded in favor of maces and hand axes. The two adventurers stood back to back. While that offered a better defensive position, it limited the thief’s use of his speed and quickness to dodge.
On the other side of the road, four brigands surrounded the gnome healer. He suffered several mace strikes, but managed to take down one brigand with his cudgel. The elf entered the fray, missing with her rapier but drawing off one of the gnome’s attackers.
Concern flowed into Snix’s thoughts. The battle could go either way. He began to consider how he’d steal the rubies back from the brigands.
The battle continued. The gnome had dropped another brigand, but suffered another solid blow. The elf wasn’t able to lay steel to her foe’s flesh, but neither did he managed to connect with his hand axe.
The druid and half-goblin each dropped a brigand, but the druid was down on one knee.
Then, without a battle cry or warning, the female animal handler entered the fray. Her war hammer connected with the magic user’s skull. Staggered, he missed a counter strike with his staff and paid with a solid blow to the ribs. He went down.
The elf went down and the gnome rushed to her aid.
Instead of pursuing, the gnome’s foe turned and kicked his two slumbering partners awake.
Cries of battle turned to cries of retreat. Five brigands fled all directions. The half-goblin began to pursue but returned when the druid called to him.
Snix noted that while the adventuring party’s pre-combat organization was poor, after the battle, action was completely different. The gnome healer was able to take both the druid’s and the elf’s wounds upon himself, and heal most of the damage. The druid was able to use his healing to cure the horse’s arrow wound and most of the half-goblin thief’s injuries. The thief searched the bodies while the blue jay familiar located the brigand campsite three hundred yards away. The thief and elf gathered abandoned gear while the familiar flew high overhead, watching the fleeing brigands.
Several of the fleeing brigands took what was of value from the camp and made for a distant stand of trees.
In the meantime, the big warrior managed to strip the bodies of their armor and weapons. He tossed the corpses behind a rise so that they wouldn’t be spotted from the road. He grumbled the most. The druid stood watch while the female driver loaded the fallen brigands’ weapons and gear into the wagon.
In under fifteen minutes, the adventuring party was back on the road, working to put some distance between themselves and the scene of the battle.
––––––––
Snix flew along, keeping his distance. He’d reported in to his master. Higslaff asked few questions and commended the homunculus’s covert assistance.
Minutes before sundown, the party pulled off the road and onto a flat area with patches of deep grass and scattered rocks. Snix saw no preparations for a fire, so it was going to be a dark camp. The moon was nearing full and scattered clouds would offer some visibility to the humans. Elves, gnomes and half-goblins saw better at night than humans, but not as well as a homunculus.
After the druid and driver tended to the horse and oxen, the party gathered in a circle and ate a meal of cheese, bread, dried goat meat and drank water while the driver stood watch in the fading light. The blue jay, still suffering from wounds inflicted by the crow, also stood watch, but from atop the wagon.
The homunculus hunkered down near the camp, between two rocks and listened to the conversation.
“So, what do ya think?” the big warrior asked.
The half-goblin grinned. “I think the fight would’ve gone better if our best warrior hadn’t gone down right at the start.”
“Listen here, thief,” the warrior said. “It could’ve taken out any one of us.”
“Except for Marigold,” the thief corrected. “Remember, elves have innate resistance to Slumber Spells.” The half-goblin’s croaking voice held humor. He clearly enjoyed poking fun at the big warrior.
“Gurk,” the druid said in a sharp tone. “Kalgore is correct. Furthermore, the magic user clearly targeted Kalgore and his mount.”
“Why do you say that?” asked the gnome.
“Because,” the half-goblin said, “a Slumber Spell affects 1D4 +1 per rank of the caster, beyond first rank. He was at least third, maybe fourth rank.”
The gnome stuffed a piece of bread in his mouth and asked, “How do you know that?”
“Marigold saw his Mystic Missile Spell, up close.” The big warrior gestured toward the elf. “Ask her how many missiles hit her.”
“Two,” she said. “I’ll get my second missile when I get enough experience points to reach third level.”
“Rank,” the half-goblin and big warrior said in unison.
The elf huffed and rolled her eyes. “Whatever.”
“It is quite fortunate that you have Byeol’s eight hit points available,” the druid commented. “A second rank magic user. Normally could not withstand 1D4 +1 and 1D4+2 points of damage.”
“Plus, they shot you in the boob with an arrow,” the gnome added.
“In the chest, Jax. Why did you have to say boob?”
The gnome looked down at the ground. “It’s exactly what you said,” he mumbled.
The elf did her best to cross her arms over her chest. “I had to use Byeol’s Warrior Monk moves to block arrows they shot at me, so I lost out on experience points, again.”
“Better than being dead,” the half-goblin said.
The elf’s hand tapped at her left boot, just above the ankle. “She hates being trapped in that gem.”
“It is alexandrite,” the druid said.
“It’s an alexandrite Soul Stone,” the half-goblin thief said. “And it’s better than her soul being gone—wherever it would go in this world.”
“It might’ve gone back to our world’s heaven,” the elf maiden said, sadness in her voice.
“Yeah,” the big warrior said. “But if we get back, and take her soul with us, she might...” he looked over at the druid. “What’d you call it?”
“Reconstitute.”
The warrior slapped the druid on the shoulder. “Yeah, that’s it. She might reconstitute back into herself, just like we will.”
“If there’s any getting back,” the gnome said glumly.
After popping a small slice of cheese into his mouth the druid adjusted his sitting position. “If I accurately recall, there is a ten percent chance for a band of brigands to have either a cleric or a magic user, 1D6 in rank, as their leader.” He looked at each of the party members in their small circle. “Or, it was not a Wandering Creatures Encounter that we experienced. Rather it may have been a failed ambush based upon knowledge of our mission for Higslaff, the Pawnshop Owner.”
The big warrior spat onto the dry grass. “If you guys wouldn’t’ve let the Slumbered brigands get woken up to get away, or captured instead of killing every one that didn’t run.” He smacked a fist into his palm. “We coulda found out.”
“Hey, dude,” the half-goblin said, “it was a pretty tight fight, up until the end. We were all pretty cut up, missing a lot of hit points.”
“I know,” the big warrior said. “Sucks that magic user got his spell off.”
“That’s not the magic user I’m worried about,” the elf said. She looked at her party members, then over her shoulder. Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I’m worried about the lich.”
“That zombie with the Tracking Gem spotted a fairy with the Soul Stone,” the half-goblin said. “Heading toward Riven Rock.” He reached up and rested a hand on the elf’s shoulder. “You ain’t a fairy anymore, and we’re never going back to Riven Rock.”
The gnome said, “But, Kalgore shouted Marigold’s name.”
The big warrior threw his hands up in the air. “You always gotta bring that up, don’t you, gnome. Marigold was panicked and I had to tell her what to do so I could hack the zombie up.”
The druid held out his hands in a calming gesture. “We all agreed that the leprechaun’s Transmorph spell, and the direction of travel has thrown off pursuit.”
“Yeah,” the half-goblin said. “And I bet a lot of fairies are named after flowers.”
All in the party nodded in uncomfortable agreement.
In silence, they hastily finished their meal.