Closed Bandits of the Wilds (discontinued)

[Oleander Soleran]

Oleander

50th of Spring, 517 AV

A few days had passed since the Pycon attack, and while their journey had continued without further hindrance, the group had become slightly more weary. People had a closer eye on their belongings, and some of the better moneyed half suspected that less wealthy participants had used the cover of the clay men to enrich themselves and blame it on the tiny creatures. The fireplaces grew a little further apart and the circles around them a little tighter as the different groups began to emerge, separating themselves from the others.

Oleander shared his fireplace with Karyk’s other friends, whom he started to feel closer to. It always took him a relatively long time to get to know a new person, but shared adventures welded together, and so they ended up sharing stories over dinner each night.

It was one of these evening that a low rumble could be heard in the darkness, and several heads shot up around various fireplaces in alarm. The rumble was followed by a growl, and a shuffle. It was the shuffle of silent feet, silent enough not to be heard had it been a single set. Many sets of silent feet, however, generated an undeniable sound. The pack of creatures did not concern itself with the shuffle: When their prey heard them approaching, it was usually too late.

Then, a howl, close enough to send shivers up Oleander’s spine, and as he looked into the others’ faces, half in the shadows, half illuminated by the fire’s dancing lights, he could see their tension, as well.

A single torch was lifted from one of the other fireplaces, and a guard strode towards the source of the sounds, out of terror of the unknown or mindless courage. Perhaps he had lost a bet, or drawn the shortest straw. From Oleander’s point of view, the small, flickering light of his torch was the only indication of his position. It wavered a little as the man’s hands shook, and it moved hesitantly. The man had put about 15 yards between himself and the furthest of the fireplaces when his light suddenly stilled and fell, accompanied by a scream and a pained yowl. Spurts of flame erupted from where he had dropped his torch, and the flames painted a gruesome picture to those closest to his position:

Burning clothes and burning fur, the man and the beast lay entangled as the fire engulfed them. The dire wolf had turned both the scout’s legs into a mangled mess, but it had not paid attention to the fire. While the man had quickly succumbed to shock and pain, the animal burned alive, and screamed as it did so.

Other voices, clearly belonging to a pack, joined the howl, and there was menace in them. Oleander did not know whether wolves knew vengeance, but he felt like he was about to find out.

Another sound was lost in the turmoil: A distant chafing, the sound of sand on paper or of leather pieces being rubbed together.

Note to the readerThis thread took a direction towards the unrealistic skill- and plot-wise, so we discontinued it on page two. We apologize for the mistakes we made.

[Salara Kel'Halavath]

Salara’s head ached. The last few days had seen a change come over the families and friends of the caravan. Everyone had been reminded how deceptively dangerous the Wildlands could be. The rumors were true. The children were kept closer and hushed when they spoke too loudly. Everyone stepped more quietly waiting for rustles in the grass or a giggle where no one was. A poor mother was inconsolable in the wee hours of the night while everyone felt her sorrows like dejavu. But today, with no other crises coming to stir them, the people had begun to relax. Certainly some of it felt forced but there was an effort being made to put tragedy behind them and move forward – to live. Her head ached from the constant effort to stay hyper-alert both on and off duty. Guard patrols had been doubled ensuring every one of them pulled extra shifts and she’d just come off of a long one. She was spending some rare time in the company of friends around Oleander’s fire. Sitting farther from the flame than the others to aid her night vision, she watched over them while joining in clapping and laughter at the antics of the children and stories being told by tall-tale spinners. Oleander's sister walks by so she leans to speak conversationally, “The meal you provided was wonderful, Hortense. I know a little bit about gathering wild plants to eat, but nothing I’ve ever found makes my food taste so good. However do you get such flavors out here? Would you consider showing me a thing or two sometime?” But as Hortense answers Salara hears a rumble of steps in the near distance. Slowly standing to turn a circle with her head cocked a-side trying to identify a direction her eyes widen in alarm to hear a feral growl; but before deciding it was a local dog or something else the howl confirmed her worst enemy. Petching wolves. Drawing her dagger from its sheath, Salara pushes it into Hortense’s hands and shoves her toward the wagon while shouting orders in the chaos, “Get the children and women in the wagons!” Following her own orders she grabs up a young girl, was it Kayrik’s niece Sharay? And tosses her up to crying grasping hands in his carriage. With the blood curding screams of the man and burning wolf she turns opposite knowing wolves would be attacking from all sides. She encourages the folk, “To arms! They may come from any direction! Don’t let them break past!” Cries of panicked herd animals, most staked in place on long tethers, are cut short to savage snarls. Screams of death, fear, and rage resound to the beginning sounds of battle. Brave men and women had taken up weapons of all sorts. Long blades and kitchen knives, shovels, staffs, and bows with arrow. The next wagon over was guarded by the caravan’s seamstress wielding a wicked long pair of shears next to a young man with a rustic bow at ready with home-fletched arrows. Salara crouches several yards from the carriage, pulling her only other dagger watching all around for the flash of dark shadow that would mean an approaching terror. Her breath pants through gritted teeth in short growls, “Where the petch are you black bastard? I’ll have your teeth for jewelry and your mangy hide for my new doorstep.” Out of the darkness the blackness creeps into the firelight, it’s eyes glinting in the flickering red reflection. Flipping the dagger to hold by the tip between tight pinched fingers, Salara’s eyes squinch warning as a snarl works it’s way through her chest and up her throat. One of the first things she’d learned about knife throwing was that it happened instinctively; think long, think wrong. Raising it in a circular motion up and above her head she throws. The blade tumbles in slow motion as the black beast steps into rapid pace so it seems the creature impales its self on the blade. The animal’s yelp of pain is accompanied by a bright, mercurial-in-the-dark, sparkle and glow as a white-gowned cougar shears through the binding clothing to leap upon it’s back with savaging teeth and claws.

[Karyk]

Karyk sat around his own fire, away from his friends and compatriots, bruised and battered from the day's earlier events. His ribs throbbed, his whole body was stiff and sore, and he wanted nothing more than a good stiff drink. Something that could let him finally sleep, without hearing the screams from Raven's mother that had hounded his dreams since that god forsaken Pyve. Karyk chewed slowly on some of the fish jerky rations he'd brought along, looking across the way and seeing Salara, Oleander, Hortense, and others having a merry time, and he winced in pain as he smiled lightly. At least they were having a good time. At least they weren't burdened like he was. At least they had each other in the moment. It was why he'd separated himself from them since they left that Pyve. He'd be fine on his own. No need to put this on them. Thinking back to the fight with the yukmen, Karyk knew he'd need to train a lot more. This world was a lot more dangerous than he thought it would be, and he was far more useless in it. Never again would he be so careless. He'd train, and he'd train hard, if only to never feel like this again. So when the wolf howl moved through the camp, Karyk was immediately on alert. It sounded close, closer than where the scouts normally kept the perimeter. How had they slipped through? Were some of the scouts already dead? Karyk stood up quickly, immediately gasping as bolt of pain shot from damaged ribs. Two of his throwing axes still hung from his belt, and he drew his battleaxe, as people began to grow very uneasy. Then the human and animal screams filled the air, as a wolf and a scout were lit ablaze. This was the trigger. Panic ensued. Karyk saw Salara help lift Sharay up atop the carriage with Natya and her other children. Karyk was taking long strides toward them all, watching as Salara took charge. It was good, she was a scout here, they needed to listen to her if they wanted to survive. By the time Karyk reached their fire, slowed by his ribs and limp, Salara was already the lion atop the wolf. But the panic wasn't abated, and many others around the camps were still scrambling. Karyk moved toward Salara's fighting scene, with no intention of interfering, she knew what she was doing. But where there was one wolf seen, three more went unseen. "Oleander, Hortense, get to the carriage. This is no," he wheezed heavily in pain, "No place for you. Go. Now!" Karyk was hunched over, already sweating from pain and nervousness of the attack. But he needed to stand strong for his people. He held his barely used battleaxe in one hand, turning to grab a log as a torch from the fire. When he turned back with the light, he saw a wolf was mere feet away, having already been sneaking up on him, taking advantage of the dark and his mere human vision. Karyk's eyes grew wide, and his instincts screamed to run. But he couldn't, wouldn't. He swung the torch out in front of him, shouting loudly and feral. It had worked back in Zeltiva. But this wolf was much larger, much more confident. It stepped back from the fire, but it never flinched. Karyk purposefully didn't advance from the camp. They needed to hold the position, not further expose themselves. He swung the torch again, and the wolf snapped its jaws around it, just below the flame. With a quick tug, it pulled Karyk forward, who didn't let go of the torch in time. Thrown off balance, Karyk stumbled forward, as the torch was thrown to the ground next to the wolf. Too close to run, Karyk was already swinging his battleaxe to create some distance. But his ribs and inexperience slowed him greatly, the wolf easy skipping back. Karyk swung and swung, each time missing as the wolf slowly drew Karyk further ahead, one step at a time, luring him into the darkness. The adrenaline was starting to abate some of Karyk's pain, but he didn't realize that he was being lured from the security of the camp. The wolf snapped once more as he swung, and then it rush through the opening of the swing. It tackled toward Karyk, who'd just barely managed to get his axe up in time, the jaws clamping around the wooden shaft. Thankfully it was strong, and held in the bite. Karyk held the axe with both hands, as the wolf shook its head roughly, trying to dislodge the shipwright's weapon. Karyk roared, stepping backward, and mustering as much strength as he could, yanked his axe toward him, as he twisted, pushing hard with his hips and legs. This pulled the wolf off balance, and the two fell into the camp, right in front of the fire and Oleander. Karyk hit the ground hard, and lost a grip on his axe. The wolf squeal, the axe having slightly cut one of its hind legs in the fall. Karyk drew his half axe, and moved around the wolf, to turn it away from the boy, not noticing another wolf sneaking up on his now exposed flank.

[Tollivant Brennson]

Tollivant was just finishing off the last mouthful of Hortense's delicious stew when the noise came. Feet moving through grass; a growl, and then a full howl. It was not a noise he had ever heard before, but it triggered a buried, primordial memory deep inside him and he knew instantly what it meant. His senses were alert in a way he had never felt before. He was naive enough to be momentarily excited about the prospect of danger, in the way that only those who have never been in real danger can be. But when the guard and the wolf started burning, the flames lighting up the brutal tableau for all to see, his excitement disappeared. He regretted not having ever learnt to wield a weapon; he knew he could not rely on others to protect him when they had themselves to take care of, but alone he was almost completely defenceless. He stood in a helpless fluster for a moment, wondering what to do, when he heard Salara shouting to get the children into the wagons. That was something he could help with, and the knowledge spurred him into action. He ran towards the wagons, grabbed the nearest child, and mustering all his strength held it up for reaching hands to grasp and pull in.

A woman with a tiny infant in her arms approached. He had seen her at the start of the journey, already heavily pregnant, and he remembered the screams that had lasted from dusk til dawn just a few nights ago, to be finally ended by the yowling of the newborn child who arrived as Syna was rising. It had been a brief moment of celebration in the otherwise more and more roadweary caravan, although everyone knew that everyone else was thinking the same thing: it would be lucky to make it to Syliras alive. The woman was young, younger even than Tollivant, and her face was contorted in fear as she gripped her baby tightly to her chest. Tollivant took the child from her, noting with surprise that it weighed even less than he was expecting, and passed it up to the waiting hands. He quickly bent down, creating a platform with his knee, and leant against the carriage to brace himself as she stepped up on his leg and was hauled into the carriage to be reunited with her baby.

When he turned round he saw that Salara was already getting the upper hand against one of the wolves, and that Karyk was facing down another. He watched with horror as the wolf's jaws wrenched the fiery torch from the big man's grasp, and then man and wolf tumbled to the ground right next to the fire. Tollivant felt a cold shiver running down his spine. If Karyk couldn't fight a wolf, what hope did he or anyone else have? Karyk was now surrounded, facing down his wolf with his last weapon and with another monster lurking at his back. All Tollivant could think was that if Karyk didn't make it, none of them could, or would. He ran, driven by an impulse he barely recognized, towards the fire, waving his arms above his head and roaring at the top of his voice, hoping to distract the wolf behind Karyk and give him time to deal with the first one, which was completely focussed on the shipwright. If someone else could sneak up behind it, play it at its own game, that might just turn the tide.

As he had hoped but also feared, the wolf behind Karyk's flank glanced his way, delaying its attack on the big man for a while. But it did not seem remotely intimated by Tollivant's yelling, and soon focussed its attention back onto Karyk, at which point Tollivant did the only thing he could think of and barrelled straight into the side of the wolf. At the last moment the animal realized he was not going to stop running, and quick as a flash snapped its head round to bite at his arm as its hind quarters nimbly skipped around so that Tollivant, launching himself through the air like a lumpy cannonball, only managed to grab hold of one its hind legs and yank it with him as he tumbled to the ground. The jerk on its leg meant its teeth only grazed his arm, although it was still enough to rip his sleeve, but a blink of an eye later the wolf was balanced again and ready to sink its teeth into his legs, which were now right under its jaws. His arms were still gripping the wolf's leg, and in a last-ditch attempt he instinctively sunk his teeth into its leg, making it squeal. It shook its leg free vigorously, scraping Tollivant's face with its claws as it did so and leaving him dizzy for a moment, and then rounded on him, determined to finish him off.

[Kesh Baldur]

Kesh was sitting high up in the trees that bordered the encampent and had finished his daily ritual of meditating. He stretched his arms and legs, then grabbing some mushrooms that he had gathered and ate them, he then produced his pipe, filled it a little bit and lit it by striking his flint.

He inhaled deeply and exhaled, watching as the smoke left his mouth and nose and began to relax, his shift work as a guard was strenuous, having to keep his eyes and ears focused for anything unusual happening all day was much more taxing than sitting and observing what was happening in nature. Having these moments were nice where he could collect his thoughts and get some rest. What was that? he thought as he heard a noise that perked his ears and could begin to smell, another animal, and plenty of them, wolves, what are they doing so close to the camp? He looked down and saw that many of them were slowly making their way to the border of the camp. He cursed his tiredness as it let them get closer than he would have wanted, he could also smell something else that he was not able to place at the moment. Luckily they had not smelt him because of his natural ability to hide his scent. He then heard a howl, followed by others and soon the wolves began their attack.

DAMMIT! He cursed as he took another toke of his pipe and loosened his chains as quietly as he could, once he made his move it was too late to turn back so he had to wait for the right moment. He soon saw fire coming from the camp, they must be coming from everywhere but still he bided his time. He was by himself out in the woods, to bring attention to himself would be disasterous, he observed the wolves and saw that they were filled with a bloodlust and subduing them would not be good enough, these wolves were ready to fight to the death, what could be doing this to these animals that are usually smaller in number and more frightened of humans he wondered. Kesh waited for the last of the wolves to leave the edge of the forest and Kesh began his descent. When he hit the floor he began to run to the camp, he saw two wolves in the rear and found himself close enough now to make his strike.

The two were close enough to not hinder his accuracey and threw both chains out with his might, the hooks went in front of the wolves and when they did Kesh pulled back, the hooks pierced into the wolves skins and ripped them from the front to the back and in a pool of blood they died. But he had to keep moving, luckily his chains did not get stuck in the bone and he pulled the chains around for another strike. He took two more out in the same manner before he made it into the camp and witnessed the chaos.

He saw Salara strike a wolf with her dagger, Karyk was fighting a wolf to the ground as another snuck up behind him. Then Tollivant of all people got involved and body checked the wolf knocking it off balance then began to bite the creature in the leg with his teeth. Kesh saw that they needed help and Kesh would aid in getting rid of the wolves attacking his friends, he threw his chains in his left and right hand and they wrapped around the beasts' necks. He then pulled so that it was wrapped tight and flung his chains upwards, lifting the wolves into the air and landing solidly on the ground behind him. He roared a mighty roar to make his presence clearly known.

"Karyk, are you too hurt to continue fighting? And Tollivant, that was mighty brave of you! I recommend that the three of you to stick together and watch out for each other, that means you too Oleander. Check on your families and make sure they are alright before heading back into the fray. I have to go and help wherever I can." He then looked over to Salara who was now in her animal form. "Salara, I may need you to come with me, there is a lot of ground to cover and there are others who will need our help." He explained as another wolf came at him and he grabbed it with his hands and threw it hard on the ground before letting his fist fall on its face, the sound of bone breaking could clearly be heard by all. "I also smelled something that wasn't like the wolves so keep your eyes open for anything strange, you all got that?" Kesh concluded as he awaited a response in a defensive postition, ready to strike if need be.

[Oleander Soleran]

Oleander

Hortense sipped the last few droplets of stew from her own bowl, then stood up to gather her supplies and stow them away. She was content with the meal she had prepared – savoury, well balanced, with a rich taste despite the lack of supplies. She was tired of the fish Oleander kept bringing in – whenever had her brother started to take such a liking towards the slimy creatures? The previous day, she had been lucky, stumbled across wild onions and garlic. Herbs were Oleander’s field of expertise, but Hortense knew her cooking supplies better than he did. She had dug out the roots and bulbs, sliced them and cooked them with some dusty thyme she had snatched from Oleander a season ago. Experimentally, she had poured in some of the kelp beer everyone else loved drinking, and lo and behold, it worked.

As she passed her by, Salara turned to ask about the secret of the soup. Hortense smiled her small, knowing smile, but refused to confess it was beer. “Thyme,” she said instead. “Though I suppose it’s much better when it’s fresh.” Before she could find a way to dodge more questions about her special ingredients, the attack began. She found herself engulfed by a panicking crowd, and lost the bowl and spoon as she was pushed towards the carriages. Her brother was nowhere to be seen. “Oleander!”, she called, and there! A flash of brown curls between running people. He was moving in the wrong direction, away from the safety of the wagons. “OLEANDER!” Hortense was on the brink of panic, herself, and tried to hurry after her twin, but the crowd did not let her get away. Strong arms grabbed her from behind despite her struggle, and hauled her back into an unfamiliar wagon. A small kid was crying next to her, and she could hear a woman screaming for her baby.

The wolves, in the meantime, were closing in. They were rabid, maddened with hunger, hardened from the horrors of the wild. Creatures that survived out here were the strongest, while their weak brethren died. It was a simple rule and a bad omen for the caravan. Chaos broke loose as travellers watched wolves and wolves watched travellers, the former shivering, the latter snarling. The beasts knew they had their prey cornered. The first wolf attacked.

Oleander stood paralyzed near the edge of the crowd, too close to the wolves for comfort, unable to move. Never before had he been this close to a fight. Never before had he witnessed a death so brutal and fast. They’re tearing us apart like a child tears apart ants. Even if he had wanted to move back to the carriages, they were overcrowded by now. He could hear Hortense’s voice over the screams of wives, but he could not see her. His eyes were transfixed on the wolves attacking his friends. How many were there? The black shadows against the darkening night were impossible to count. Salara easily defeated a beast and turned into a different one, herself. One part of Oleander’s mind thought the shift impressive, but he could not spare an active thought on it.

One wolf headed directly for Oleander. He willed his legs to move, to run away, flee into the saving crowd, but all he could muster was two small steps backwards, towards the fire. He could feel its heat against his back. He could not retreat further. He tried to spot menace in the beast’s eyes, but all he could see was black madness. He could not close his eyes. Is this the end?

It was not. Karyk charged for the wolf, saving Oleander’s life. He fought with his axes, Oleander noted, he did everything with his axes. The boy smiled a smile of relief, completely out of place, and blissful only to him. His heart jumped, and he could move again.

Oleander struggled aside, yelling a warning. “Karyk, behind-“ It was too late, the wolf was already charging for the shipwright. Should Karyk lose his life to Oleander’s stupor? Something caught the beast unawares; the unlikeliest of allies. Tollivant, the mousy scholar, had charged headfirst into the animal and bit it. It was almost surreal, the prey biting the hunter. The wolf screeched in surprise and defended itself against the human. Tollivant’s face looked bad, and Oleander rushed towards him. Kesh arrived in time to save the man from losing an eye or two, but the scratches across his face still needed tending to.

Oleander offered Tollivant an arm to help him up and away from the immediate fighting. He shielded his thoughts from the raging attack as best he could and concentrated on an entirely different headspace. “Basil…”, he murmured, “Belltor… Neither of which I have here. What to use, what to – oh!” He had helped Tollivant back into the cover of a group of trees, which only now he realized were oak trees, specifically. Some of the bark was peeling, and he was grateful for the reminder. An old apothecary had once taught him that oak bark could be used to still bleeding, but it had been a side note Oleander would not have been able to remember if not for this specific situation. He scraped some bark off the tree and reached for his water skin and his handkerchief to clean the older man’s wounds. He hesitated for a moment, waiting for some kind of approval from Tollivant before he began any kind of treatment.

[Salara Kel'Halavath]

With the wolf dying beneath her ravaging claws and fangs, the cougar, hearing her name called, shifts in a shine of light. The woman, still carrying a snarl upon her lips, rips her dagger from its body. Straddling the creature she wraps a forearm around its neck effectively lifting its shaggy head to her chest to savagely draw the blade across its throat from ear to ear. Arterial blood sprays to a trickle as the animal bleeds out. Stepping aside she stands in white, blooded strips of rag pinned indecently to her by belt sheaths, chest heaving for breath while the feral look in her eyes recedes, indicating more intelligent control. She licks at the spatter upon her lips, spitting blood and black hair from her mouth before wiping a hand across her face smearing more gore than removing it. Clutching the dagger in a ready stance she nods assent to Kesh while her eyes roam across the scene calculating the damage taken and given on both sides. “We should check the herds to be sure no more draft animals are killed along the way as well. There will be fresh meat for the survivors tonight.” The screams and snarls among the herds and wagons were dying out as the caravan folk were beginning to overcome and dispatch more attackers. Her eyes widened to see Oleander administering to Tollivant. She’d missed seeing that battle; but was that black hair caught in the little man’s teeth as well? She offers the strange fellow a respectful nod, "Welcome to the rank of predator, Tollivant." Unconsciously taking a step forward, concern etches her features to see Karyk’s smoke-blackened and beat condition. Eyeing the wounds collected upon his body that would surely to scar, “Karyk, what the petch happened to you? Wolves should be old hat by now. You ok?” She wouldn’t budge until he confirms his well-being. Once given, her worried look turns back to Kesh, “There is more going on than the wolves?” It was her duty as guard and friend to certainly continue on. Tearing the useless strips of rag from her body and sheathing her blade, she changes again to the feline. Giving Kesh a nod to precede she turns a longing look in Karyk’s direction before trotting off after the great ape not realizing the caravan was being watched from a distance. ***** Far back in a copse of trees edging the great meadow the caravan had chosen for camp, a small motley band of bandits watched the struggle between the dire wolves and travelers. Miles back their leader, Damoden, had come across the trace of many wagon wheels impressed in the grasses and realized the local dire wolf pack was trailing it. He wasn’t the smartest leader, fortunately more tough than dumb, but was able to recognize an obvious opportunity when he saw it. “Keep yer petchin’ mounts and mouths quiet!” He roars more loudly than any of them to be heard. “We’ll be awaitin’ till the wolves get done with ‘em. Get ‘em all good an bruised an broken. Then we’ll just come in to clean up the mess!” “Huzzah!” More than a little eager his men cheered earning a terrible scowl from Damoden. Pickings had been slim on the plains lately but they’d gotten word that Zeltiva had closed so were on the lookout for just this thing. They had been waiting for nearly half a season but were about to finally enjoy a payout. “Let’s get to it.” He chuckles evilly, “Maybe the good folk will think reinforcements are on the way, eh, fellas?” As they mount up to go finish what the wolves started they didn’t see the two animals, or anyone else who would follow, leave the circle of the caravan.

[Karyk]

Karyk swung his half axe over and over, trying to catch the wolf in front of him in the snout, keeping some distance between them. It snapped at him, cornered now, acting very defensive. Karyk pressed his advantage, stepping forward, and swinging again. He caught the wolf a bit in the snout, a very damaging blow, eliciting a pained squeal. Its mouth dripped blood as the top half of its snout was dangling off by a bit of skin, grotesquely. The wolf shoved through Karyk to run, knocking the man off balance. Karyk turned, only to see Tollivant clutching onto another wolf's leg, biting it. Karyk saw it kick at the man, clawing up his face, and Karyk was already moving over to help. Then Karyk heard the sound of chains, and saw two of them shoot out, wrapping around the wolves' necks. He had no idea that chains could be used so adeptly, or in combat like this. The skill alone to do that was impressive. Was there anything that could beat Kesh in combat? Karyk doubted it, seeing the now dead wolves. He flinched at Kesh's roar, hissing in pain at the twinge in his ribs. Karyk waved off Kesh's question, clutching at his ribs. The danger was still here, and he wasn't about to back down now, no matter how much he hurt. "No. If we go runnin'," shaking for a moment as breathing pained him trying to be authoritative despite being in pain, "through the woods, we lose our defensive hold, we split up from the rest of the group. Ya just said there's somethin' else out there. Best to let it come to us, on our terms. We don't need to lose anymore. We hunker down and hold." Karyk saw Oleander tending to Tollivant, trying to see just how bad it was. He hoped the cartographer wouldn't lose either eye. The mapmaker would be in good hands with Oleander, and Karyk was glad to see him stepping up and helping out, even in dangerous times. Though he was sure there'd be some screaming later for the poor boy, courtesy of Hortense. Listening to Salara now, he found merit in her suggestion. Staying with the caravan and assessing the situation was much smarter than chasing after unknown attackers in the night. "The herds," wincing, "Yeah, we should check on them." But when her gaze turned on him, he knew he wouldn't be able to wave her off like he had with Kesh. "Nothin' a bit of sleep won't fix. Still a bit sore from them yukmen this mornin'. Ain't nothin' but a thing." It wasn't hard to tell that he wasn't being entirely honest. He watched her shift and depart. Karyk picked up his axes, belting the lighter half axe with his two throwing axes, and carrying his battleaxe. He still clutched at his throbbing ribs, but started on his own way toward the herds. The herds were on the edge of the caravan's perimeter, and Karyk slowly made his way through the various small camps and carriages. It seemed that while several injuries had occurred, there weren't many casualties. Only a couple during the initial surprise attack. Karyk checked on each injured person along the way, trying to calm people down as best he could. He kept going until he finally reached the paddock. The animals were all still in a state of panic, barely being kept under control by scouts and handlers. At least one horse was dead. Karyk quickly made out Bob and Susan with their hats on, huddled over next to a tree, lowing nervously. He made his way over to them, making sure to approach them from where they could see him, so as to not startle them. He approached Susan first, and set his hand on his snout. The cow snorted, smelling him, and seemed to calm mildly. As Susan calmed, Bob also did. Karyk spent some time with them, thankful that the attack seemed to be finished.

[Tollivant Brennson]

As the wolf had loomed over him, its teeth bared in an vengeful snarl, Tollivant had simply closed his eyes. He had already gone far out of his depth with the first reckless lunge at the beast, and now his desperate attempt to help Karyk seemed to have been in vain. He lay there and waited for the end, while regret for all the places he would never go trickled sadly through his veins and out of his eyes.

He waited.

He opened one eye, cautiously, still expecting to see the dark inside of the wolf's throat as its teeth closed around his head, but instead was just in time to see it looping through the air attached to the end of one of Kesh's chains, its formerly terrifying jaw now contorted into a choked grimace that was half ridiculous, half incredibly satisfying. Kesh roared, a bellow that made Tollivant's hair stand on end for all the power it contained. As the big ape organised the group to fight, Tollivant felt a gentle hand on his shoulder and turned his head to see Oleander holding out an arm. He reached out gratefully and took it, aware suddenly of the blood dripping down his face and the searing pain in his cheek. He heard Salara's strange phrase -was it a compliment? - and tried to smile back at her, but only managed a half grimace before the sharp pains forced him to return its mouth to its resting position. He let Oleander guide him to a stand of oaks that seemed to be mercifully free of wolves, all of which were focused on the knot of people and livestock in the camp.

Cradling his painful cheek in one hand and using other to support himself as he lowered himself down in the hollow between the roots of a large oak, he watched the young man carefully scraping bark from one of the trees and then approaching with the bark in one hand and a handkerchief in the other. Oleander gave him a silent, quizzical look, as if asking for permission. 'Thank you,' the scholar murmured with a nod, taking his now blood-stained hand away from his cheek and turning his head slightly so Oleander could reach the wound. 'What is the oak bark for?' he asked as Oleander dabbed at his face. The contemplative young man had an affinity with plants, he knew that, but he would be interested to know exactly what the healing properties of oak were. He wondered vaguely about including a section on the plants of each region in the atlas he was going to create, and made a mental note that it would be a good idea, and that he would start with oak.

The blood flow was slowing down now. The wolf's claws had left long gashes across the left side of his face, narrowly missing his eye at the top, but the cuts were luckily not too deep. If the wolf had clawed him deliberately, instead of as a side effect of shaking its leg free, it would have been much worse. The cut on his arm where its teeth had grazed him was even more superficial, although he couldn't help thinking the shredded sleeve looked quite impressive. Overall he had got off remarkably lightly, although that was of course mainly due to Kesh's timely arrival. He wasn't sure which gods to thank for his almost miraculous escape. His were the gods of dusty parchment and echoing vault, of the carefully ruled line and the precision instrument: cool-headed Gnora, captivating, memory-infused Qalaya, Eyris of the silver tome. He did not think that any of them had much influence out here in the wilds, away from the libraries, laboratories and taverns where they reigned supreme.

Tollivant tried not to wince as Oleander cleaned the wound. To take his mind off the pain, he asked the young man, 'If you don't mind me asking, which gods do you worship?' As he waited for him to answer, he looked over at the camp. The attack seemed to have finished after Kesh's speedy dispatch of several of the wolves, and people were beginning to jump down from the wagons and carts where they had been sheltering. He could see other little groups mirroring him and Oleander as people started tending to the wounded, while others were busy calming the livestock. Over the hubbub of lowing animals, and the noise of people shouting for water and bandages or calling to find friends and family they had lost in the chaos, there was no way anyone could hear the sound of horses approaching from the east.

[Kesh Baldur]

Kesh nodded in acknowledgement to Karyk, it was his call and he would not be the one to disobey an order that came from him. He felt that Karyk was more injured than he lead on that he was, but men are different from his kind, they are a proud bunch not wanting to show weakness in front of others as if it rendered his past accomplishments as if they never happened and someone would take his place. He was interested to observe if this would continue all the way until they made it to their stop.

"Alright we will stay and check on the herds and the others with you Karyk, but first I must ask you Salara, can you not smell it? Your sense of smell is probably greater than my own, concentrate and focus on the irregularity that comes through. I catch it in only whiffs with the breeze, I have not smelled it around the camp before and it has me worried." He brushed his chin as he stood up and took in a deep intake of air through his nose and caught it again. "It is not a natural smell of nature, and it gets me to thinking. What was the purpose of these wolves attacking? They seemed to have no tactics and animals such as they are do not attack large groups unless desperate or forced and if they do it would have been more coordinated than this. It all reeks of interference from an outside force."

He hated that he couldn't figure it out quickly and be able to plan, but if something were to come he had to be ready. As they walked to check on the others he asked all those capable to be calm and do the same to others, they needed order and to still be alert for anything, he also looked around for things that could be thrown from a distance. He didn't want to take other weapons or equipment from other people so be picked up some rocks that were around the site. He didn't know how accurate he would be and would rely on his strength to either put fear or hit whatever was out there and scare it away.

Wherever they went he kept his senses focused towards the woods, watching to see if anything would come through. They made it to the pens to see that only a horse has been killed, he grinned at their luck. He looked again at Salara.

"Have you sensed anything y-" something was wrong, flocks of birds began to leave the trees he snapped his head around, where was the disturbance coming from. The movement of all the people and animals didn't allow him to feel the pounding of horse hooves crashing on the earth. Kesh immediately sfood up and looked around, dirt, he could see dirt being kicked up from the east. "Somethings coming Karyk and Salara we need to get the women, children and injured to the center and gather a force of able bodies to get over there, whatever it is needs to see that we are still capable of defending ourselves, I fear in this chaos it will be difficult but I will try to get the attention of others." He said but didn't stop to hear an answer, he roared as loud as he could pointing to the growing cloud of dust as he did and yelled at the people to get some kind of defensive set up and to protect the women and children.