Adventure 4 -- Damsel in Distress

Cohor begins to work his way down to the road, pack incredibly heavy on his shoulders. He's moving quite a bit slower than he would like, but coin will be useful, once he can stand in front of a merchant without fear of him calling for guards...so he deals with the added weight of gear and weapons from his recent victims. It seems to have taken some eight hours, about 12 miles, to reach the bridge. His queue to break off the road and follow the river.
 
Pressing off the road for about an hour longer, the sun starting to rise behind the blanket of heavy-gray clouds, Cohor sets his pack down, behind a tree a few hundred feet away from the river. He pulls our his blanket, munches on some tasteless food, gets some of the leftover bits out of his teeth and cavities with some gulps of water, then settles down to rest.
 
Sleeping while being dead is interesting. It's needed, but it isn't truly the sleep he experienced when he was alive. He found he was still quite aware of the things happening around him. The rustling of leaves in the wind. The chirping of birds on the warm summer morning. Around noon, only four hours of rest, Cohor found his body rejuvinated and less sluggish to the demands of his brain. He doesn't experience exhaustion like he remembered, either. His body was less alive, more disconnected from feelings of pains and aches. Somehow able to push further, as if the mind game that plagues humans to push their bodies to the extreme was nonexistent. Cohor's body was but a vessel. It had its physical limits, but he didn't appear to be limited by a willpower of someone pushing harder than their mind presumed reasonable.
 
Cohor saddles his pack and pushes along the river, heading upstream. Looking back westward, Cohor can see the bay, the expanse ocean behind it. He's gained an amount of elevation sufficient to provide such an overlook, his vision encompassing the last two days of travel. He pushes on into evening, and, after just over 5 hours of walking, came across a gully. Getting to the ledge overlooking the gully required a short hike. Once there, Cohor managed to follow the river.
 
Cohor caught something gleaming against the moonlight in the gully as he traversed its ridge. He stopped and focused in on it. It appeared to be... a bone? Up ahead, the gully slumped a bit, likely from the sloughing of weak earth, which created an easy path back down to the river. Cohor took that route to confirm what he saw. Sure enough, it was a bone. Surrounded by many more. In fact, the entire gully seemed to be littered with them. Curious, Cohor picked one up and examined it.
 
Scanning the area in the darkness, Cohor will see a burrow--a large one--in the side of the gully wall. Exposed roots from the tree clinging to the ledge above it mostly covering the entrance. He's got a feeling that this might be the home of whatever has feasted on the flesh of these bones. Curiously, but foolishly, he approaches. Before he reaches the burrow entrance, he quietly settles his pack on the ground. Hopefully it isn't nocturnal. He thinks.
 
Cohor sneaks into the den, surprised to find a badger the size of a bear. Its breathing calmed and steady. He moves to leave...
 
The badger doesn't appear to stir as Cohor retreats, curiosity satisfied. He collects his pack, and climbs back up to the ridge. With the moon lighting his path, Cohor continues, keeping the river in sight. After another several hours, he's traveled about 15 miles. He looks around, trying to identify a flat, sheltered place to collect a few hours of rest.
 
“Stupid.” THWACK. “Rotten.” THWACK. “Men!” THWACK. A young woman's voice. Between every angry, forced word was the sound of a stick hitting wood. On the third one, a ripping sound, the fibers of the stick giving way to relentless beats against a nearby tree trunk.
 
Cohor's eyes shot open, though he remained motionless, snuggled into his blanket beneath a bush. The woman was crying now. The shouts and the thwacking finished.
 
Cohor thought to himself. “Its still dark out. It has to be what, three in the morning? What in blazes is she doing out in the wilderness at this time of night?”
 
Curious, again, Cohor found himself rising to his feet. She wasn't very far away. 10 yards or so. Short brown hair, her face cupped in her hands as she sat on her knees, back convulsing from her sobs. Suddenly, and in fury, she snatches the broken stick and hurls it in the air with a scream of frustration. Cohor's eyes widen as it whirls toward him before crashing against his cheek. He let a grunt slip. The girl's eyes go wide--she has a pretty face--and she immediately picks up the other end of the broken stick, holding it threateningly in the air.
 
“Who are you?” Her voice trembling, though her determination and anger seemed to mask that with firmness.
 
Wary of his milky eye and grateful for the darkness, Cohor feigns sleepiness and heavy eyelids. He makes an effort at stretching. “I'm just a traveler, trying to rest my eyes before continuing my journey in the morning.” He winces inwardly at the grating rasp in his voice.
 
She narrows her eyes suspiciously. “How do I know you aren't following me?”
 
“I... I don't really know how to convince you that I'm not. I wrapped up in my blanket beneath this bush around midnight. Hopped off the road back there at the bridge, and have been following the river. It's supposed to dive into some kind of woods. My destination is there. Nothing to do with you.”
 
She sighs and seems to release some of the tension in her body. That's a good sign. Though there's something else in her eyes. “Why are you heading to that there?” Fear. What her eyes held secret, her voice betrayed.
 
“I've it on good authority--” He interrupts himself with a nasty cough, hoping that it might give believable reason for his gravelly voice. “Excuse me... That the Burlap Boys have set up shop there.” He pats his sword at his hip. “And it appears that they've done some things that have warranted my attention.” Cohor pauses. “...And retribution.”
 
Cohor raises an eyebrow. “You know them?”
 
She turns her head, looking groundwards. “No.” She lies.
 
Cohor grunts, disappointed. Then steps out of the bush and leans against the trunk of a tree. “My name is Cohor Pithedaiya. What is yours?”
 
“Talea.” She says, barely a whisper. Still staring at the ground.
 
If Cohor's heart could beat, adrenaline would have shocked it into overdrive. Surprise and excitement filled him, as a piece of the puzzle clicked into place.
 
“Talea... Well, what do you say we crush these bandit baboons? It's clear to me you've encountered them. Maybe you could lead me there, so I have less searching to do. I do think their judgment is coming.”
 
She raises her eyes to meet his. Her gaze hard. As if it could drill through stone. “I'll lead you there.” Her voice cold as steel.
 
Cohor smiles. “Good. Then we'll teach those whoresons a lesson they'll never forget. Let me pack up my things. Then we'll have you lead the way.”
 
Very quickly, Cohor will notice that Talea isn't carrying much. She's less equipped than him, but also much quicker.
 
“Talea.” Cohor rasps through some coughs. “I've got this mace here. And a chain shirt. It might be a bit big, but it might be useful. Would you like to borrow it?”
 
She searches him for a moment, noticing that he's struggling to keep up. Then nods. “I suppose a mace might do me a bit more good than... this.” She holds up the other half of the stick. Then she'll approach Cohor. Her gaze pauses a moment when she gets close enough to see his milky eye. Then she tears her eyes away, taking the mace and chain from Cohor's gauntleted hands. She'll equip them, the chain shirt drowns her, but it'll have to do.
 
The weight relief is immediately noticeable. That shirt was heavy. Cohor and Talea pressed forward. The bone gully finally disappearing behind them.
 
The summer night was pleasant, warm. The stars twinkled brightly overhead, in between the leaved branches of the trees. Talea wasn't saying much. She seems determined, focused. And she appears to walk with a slight limp. Cohor ponders on how he might ask her how she escaped. Something heavy crashed onto him, knocking him off balance and sending him smashing onto his side. Whatever it was, it was furry, and it was heavy.
 
The creature, a massive badger, tried to rip at Cohor's face. He was able to keep its powerful jaw at bay, but was ripped up by its claws. A smaller badger also attacked, sinking teeth and claw into Cohor. Darkness creeping into his vision once again, for the third day in a row. He dug deep inside himself and pressed that power within into his chest. The darkness pushed away, clearing from his vision, as he regained strength, energy, and the will to survive.
 
Cohor manages to shove the giant bear-like badger off of him and ward off their snapping jaws and razor claws. He catches the giant one with the tip of its blade; it yelped in pain, then snarled back a retort.
 
More vicious snaps and swipes from the badgers were kept at bay. But Cohor's blade struck the stone ground. These moments are precious, his life very much threatened.
 
The badgers work well together as a team. They're pushing Cohor down the the slight decline, towards the river. It's moving quick here. He doesn't know where Talea is... Did she leave him? Is this how it's going to end?
 
The bear-sized one stood and leapt at Cohor, gnashing viciously with its teeth. The small toothy blades nearly sheared into his neck, but Cohor caught the creature with his shield and heaved it back. It fell to its side, where Cohor plunged his blade into its neck, ripping it up and free. The giant creature spasmed and fell. The second badger nearly took a bite out of his exposed side; just in time, he whirled his blade around, causing the badger to rethink its strike.
 
Snarling and desperate, the badger made a leap. Fifty pounds of raging fury careening through the air with the intent to kill. Cohor managed to step aside and swing his blade. The arcing strike caught the beast in the air, cleaving into its underside. It splashed into the water where its body was quickly swept away by the current.
 
“I should never have peeked into that den...” Cohor says weakly. Feeling strange; he should be breathing heavy, his heart racing. Instead, his body feels dull, cold, and lifeless. He admires the massive badger that lay at his feet. Where the little one was the size of a dog, this... This one could easily have been 300 pounds. “Talea..?” He calls out in the darkness. “Talea!?”
 
After a few minutes of searching, Talea poked out from behind a tree, eyes wide in terror.
 
Cohor sighs in relief. “Ah. There you are.” He offers a hand. She takes it, and he hoists her to her feet. “It's alright. The beasts are dead. Are you fit to keep leading me?” She gulps, steels herself, then nods.
 
They spend the next four hours following the river. They came across another gully, this one, thankfully, was not full of bones, but they still had follow the river on the ridge, which slowed their progress. Not long after, the forest line came into view.
 
“It's not long now. Only another three hours or so.” The effects of the badger attack seem to be wearing off. “I thought you were dead. I am... I am sorry I did not aid you. The moment it fell on you. The way they clawed into you. I do not know how you survived. I did not think you could have survived. So I ran...”
 
“Do not worry, Talea.” Cohor says in the kindest voice he can muster. “You're a brave woman. And I am only grateful for your aid.” He'll slide his pack off his shoulders. “If you don't mind, I could use a rest before plunging into the woods.” She nods her agreement.
 
After a brief rest, Talea whispers. “I think they might be looking for me. Two guards just emerged from the forest.”
 
Cohor hums to himself. Another comment closer to finding out what happened. Hopefully she drops a few more hints so he doesn't have to find a way to press it out of her. “Let's go.” He pushes towards the bandits, attempting to follow them from behind and get within distance of javelin throw.
 
When Cohor reached 10 paces from the bandits, he settled down his pack to free up his movement for his javelin. It clanked an irritating clank, and one of the bandits turned, eyes widening as he noticed Cohor. He shouted at his friend. Quickly, one had out a crossbow, the other, a scimitar.
 
Cohor threw his javelin at the charging man with the sword. He managed to dive out of the way. Cohor then sprinted into the woods, hoping to find some cover against the crossbowman. The scimitar-man sprinted hard, hot on his tail.
 
A bolt thuds into the trunk of a nearby tree. It's difficult to see the crossbowman. The bandit with the scimitar reaches Cohor. They parry, and Cohor throws his knees into the man's stomach.
 
Another bolt snips through tree branches overhead. The bandit in front of Cohor brings his blade down in an overhead strike; the recoil as the impact hits Cohor's shield forces him backward. He falls to a knee and uses his sword arm to keep from falling onto his back entirely.
 
The crossbowman breaks into the forest, launching another arrow. It slips into the forested ground nearby. His companion raises to strike again, but Cohor slams his shield into the man's attack, breaking it, and plunges his longsword into the man's chest. Then, like a man using his knife to remove food from kabob, Cohor presses the man with his shield, ripping him free of his blade. The man stumbles before collapsing on his side. Cohor then closes the distance on the crossbowman who just entered the forest, who, upon seeing Cohor dashing forward, dropped his crossbow and freed his own blade.
 
A few test swings, testing each other. Then the bandit stumbles on a root. Cohor takes the opportunity and creates a gash on the man's off-arm.
 
The bandit charges forward, slamming into Cohor's shield. Cohor swipes at the man's thighs, biting deep into his quads. The man screams and collapses to the ground in agony. With a grim face, Cohor ends his suffering.
 
Cohor finds some coins in their pockets as Talea comes up.
 
“Do you know their numbers?”
 
She shakes her head. “No. At least six.” She gives no other information. “Come on.” She says, not missing a beat. Cohor follows.
 
As Talea said, another three hours of traveling and a shoddy wooden fort came into view. Its early morning now.
 
“Well, well, well. What do we have here?”
 
Cohor and Talea turn, Talea a few paces behind Cohor. A big thug of a man and five others somehow snuck up behind them.
 
“Burlaps, get that little witch. She won't be getting away from us this time.” Before Cohor could act, the five men grabbed Talea, pressing a knife to her throat. “Come any closer, and we'll rip her pretty little throat out.” Cohor froze, anger welling up inside of him. The men other men gagged her, then bound her wrists and ankles with unforgiving twine. Talea winced in pain as the fibers dug into her skin. “Take her back to her cell.” The leader of the group says. “We'll handle this one.”
 
The men pull out their blades and fan out. They test Cohor's mettle, who tries to strike out at the weakest among them, but retreated when he saw another attempting to strike at the opening it created.
 
The thug with a club scores a hit on Cohor's wrist. The other two bandits advance, but aren't able to break Cohor's defenses.
 
“Kelemvor.” Cohor growls. “If ever there's a time I need your aid, now is the time!”
 
A pillar of light descends through the forest canopy, shining onto Cohor, embracing him; causing him to glow.
 
The bandits shy away from the light embracing their opponent. Cohor uses this time cut off the club man's arm and kick his knee in. There's a loud crunch as the man crumples to the ground, bleeding heavily.
 
After downing one of their comrades, Cohor turns to another, but his blow is met with a parry.
 
The light protecting Cohor radiates brightly. The bandits struggle to find a way to press forward against it. The tip of Cohor's blade slashes across one of the thug's face, opening a cut that will likely scare on his cheek.
 
The bandits approach; the light continues to be too much for them. They raise their weapons to attack, but are pushed back as they blink away stars that fill their vision.
 
The leader slashes forward blindly. Cohor steps aside and jabs his blade into the man's side. He growls in pain.
 
The next fifteen seconds result in blocks and parries, the bandit leader growing more desperate, more enraged by the second.
 
Finally, the leader breaks through the shield of light, his scimitar clubbing into the chainmail on his right bicep. The move was fatal, though, as it exposed an opening on the bandit's torso. Cohor's blade took that opening, driving into his side, between his ribs, and out broke the skin on his left shoulder. The leader's eyes widened in shock as his body lost its strength. Cohor let the man slide from his blade onto the ground and ran towards the fort, where the other two bandits had taken Talea.
 
“Heeeeeey, Modjeb! He's kill'd 'em! He's comin' up now! Whaddawe do?” A voice returns, but Cohor isn't able to make it out. The man looking over the six-foot wall who called for Modjeb bends down, picking up a crossbow.
 
Cohor dashes up to the fort entrance. It's a pretty shabby fort. Garbage is lined up all over. They've got an anvil. A handcart, some barrels from their plunderings. There's a few tents up, and a little shack that was likely their leader's quarters. Modjeb, the man holding Talea, upon seeing Cohor barrel around and into the fort, shoved the bound woman, pushing her into thick, muddy ground. Then he faced Cohor, put his thumbs together, fingers fanned, and a sheet of fire erupted from his fingertips.
 
The flames sweep through Cohor. Its heat intense, despite Cohor's dampened senses. A bolt plummets into the ground beside him.
 
Cohor calls on that power within, a prayer to Kelemvor. He focuses inward, despite the burning pain that fanned through his body. He finds peace, warmth, and will to survive.
 
Modjeb threw a bolt of fire at Cohor, but he caught it with his shield. Another bolt whizzed overhead. Cohor managed to strike the wizard with his blade, but only enough to cause the man to recoil.
 
A bolt of flames whips passed Cohor's face; a normal bolt zips between the wizard and Cohor, thudding into the shack. Cohor manages to strike the wizard again, but it's a small blow.
 
A fire bolt zips beneath Cohor's shield, biting painfully into his left quad. The thug on the wall misses with another bolt. And Cohor swipes at the wizard a final time, thrusting his blade in between his robed ribs. Modjeb's eyes grow hazy as he slumps to the ground.
 
Cohor sprints up to the short wooden wall, hoisting himself up a few feet, onto the wall with the final thug.
 
The thug retrieves his weapon; the two combatants exchange a few strikes. Cohor blocks with his shield, the thug ducks beneath a bladeswing, Cohor takes another with his shield, the thug parries. The two engage, dancing across the narrow wallwalk.
 
The thug swings hard; Cohor's shield arm buckles under the force. The man swings again, striking with momentum. Cohor pulls out of his way, and the man's momentum carries him over the edge, inside the fort. He tumbles and slams on his back with huff. He's quickly back on his feet and hoists himself back onto the wall.
 
Cohor strikes at the man's hands as he clambered up the wall; the man was athletic, however, and his hands danced away from the strike. He threw himself onto the wall and kicked Cohor, sending him crashing hard into the ground.
 
The thug jumped down, joining Cohor on the earthy ground of the fort. The exchanged a clashing parry.
 
After taking a slash across his arm, the bandit snarls. “I'm going to rip your innards out. I can feel you weakening, you pesky, little rodent!”
 
Cohor nearly takes several fatal strikes. The final bandit seemed much more used to the sword than his comrades. Cohor scores the final blow, however, spinning around the man, cutting him behind the knee, the driving his heavy blade between his shoulder blades. He fell, face first, to the cold, hard ground.
 
Cohor scrambled over to Talea, who was struggling to move in the mud. She was breathing sharply, and quickly. Likely hyperventilating behind the gag. He knelt beside her tore her gag free, and cut at the bindings on her wrist and ankles. Her eyes were wide in panic, and once her hands were free, she threw her arms around him, clutching to him, breathing hard and heavy.
 
“I've got you. It's alright.” Cohor whispers comfortingly as he picks her up, out of the mud, and carries her to an old, rotted chair. “They're gone. We've killed them. They're gone.”
 
Cohor scavenges through the camp, searching for a barrel of water.
 
“Talea. I found some water and a rag. Why don't you clean yourself up, hmm? I can move the chair and water barrel.” She'll nod, still covered in mud. “We'll stay here tonight and talk some more in the morning. Go ahead and take the shack. I'll be out here, standing guard.”
 
After Cohor got Talea situated in the shack to bathe, clean her clothes, and rest, Cohor propped himself against the wall of her building, staring out the entrance of the fort. He thought about his circumstances. How just three days ago he woke with a start, at the bottom of a bay he traveled to often as a child. Of the fact that he's dead. Called upon to fulfill some vengeance mission by Kelemvor. Directed by some strange, demeaning halfling... Cleansed a town he'd visited a few times of several dark curses. That this woman, this beautiful woman, was captured by bandits. Likely by Kelemvor's design. Or that bloody halfling's. The map he'd received showed an area that he knew well, but the features on the map matched nothing of what he'd known in his youth, aside from the bay and Marxstaff. He thought of the last few hours... Of being attacked by a man-eating badger that had filled an entire gully of bones. That he just terminated the life of seven men, an entire band of bandits, by himself. How he's supposed to use this woman to learn how to make his dead self presentable in front of common folk. How he's supposed to make friends. And use them. All to fulfill Kelemvor's desire for vengeance. For retribution. To kill his own brother. His murderer. These are things that weighed heavily on Cohor'
 
Cohor's mind as he sat on the ground, leaning against the bandit shack, Talea's temporary home. Morning turned to afternoon. Afternoon to evening. They were disturbed by nothing, but the pleasant sounds of the wood, and shafts of light dancing through the forest canopy.
 
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