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Bandit trouble?

Tags: Bolosi,  Merchant

Short Summary: Bolosi and his companions find a wounded man on the road with a sorry tale to tell
Date (real-life): 2010-07-15
Scene Location: Bree: East Road - Edge of the Chetwood
Date (in-game): June 3050
Time of Day: Morning
East Road - Edge of the Chetwood

The ground is flat and lightly forested all about you, except for Bree Hill which stands just down the road to the west. From here you can barely see the houses which dot the side of the hill, giving it an almost scarred look. There is little traffic along the East road at the moment, although usually it is a bustling throughfare. The moment of peace allows you to enjoy the serenity of the Chetwood. Just off the road to the north, hidden partially in the shadows of the trees, lies a wooden building which would appear no longer so very abandoned, though it is still very old. Signs of recent work abound: branches have been trimmed away so that the Inn can be easily approached, the porch has new boards mending gaps, the windows are clean. Most telling of all is the light that shines through the window night and day.

Obvious exits:
Decrepit Wooden Building, West, and Southeast

================================== Bree Time ==================================
Real time: Thu Jul 15 15:55:07 2010
Bree time: Dawn <07:45:21> on Mersday of Summer - June 9,1450
Moon Phase: New  Moon

Breelands Weather
The dawn summer air is very hot and dry around you. The day sky is clear with only slight wisps of clouds overhead.

 There is little sound in the air as the morning sun creeps over the edge of the far away hills, and fills the land with its light. Travelling across the Eastern road out of Bree-town, are three rather wearied dwarves.

 " Ah, alas! The sun!" The shortest, but stockiest, of the trio grumbled. He has a splendid red beard, which is knotted in thick braids, " Its about time it showed its wretched face! Eight hours weve been patrolling these paths, and what have we seen! Not even an owl!"

 " Patience, Folli," The largest of the three, the leader, says. His beard is as black as coal, and his shoulders are heavily constructed, " We said we would help didnt we?"

 Just as the red bearded dwarf mutters something else under his breath, the three come across a troubling sight. Lying in the middle of the road, turned on its side, is a wagon cart. The tethers for the beast who draws the cart have been caught, and lie on the dirt track. The beast is gone.

 Lying against the wagon, his head bloodied, is a middle-aged man.

Even as the first rays of the sun hit the wagon, there is motion. That sprawled figure with the bloodied head twitches. And then the sound of voices reaches him - unknown voices. The man groans softly, and inches toward the upturned cart as though trying to hide. His hand clenches convulsively on empty air, as though he'd expected to find a weapon in it.

Somewhere in the trees, a jay chatters suddenly. The world is waking up

 As the dwarves spot the wounded man, their pace increases to a steady jog, rushing to his aid. Experienced warriors, all keep their weapons close at hand. As their leader, the largest of the company, kneels down by the man's side, the other two surround the upturned wagon, hands on the hilts of their weapons, gazing out into the trees.

 Bolosi reaches out to touch the man on the shoulder. " Sir...Are you alright? Can you hear me? What happened?

As the Dwarves approach, the man's hand closes on a stone and he lifts it weakly as though he planned to throw it. But then Bolosi leans forward and the injured man's aim wavers. "Dwarves!" he murmurs in wonder. And then, in response to the question, his brows furrow. "Hit - something hit me, on the head. And the wagon-" Struggling, he tries to raise himself up onto one elbow, and fails. His right leg is twisted under him. "Angie?" he calls out, seemingly to thin air. "Are you all right?"

 There is an awkward silence as nobody replies. And of course nobody replies, because there is no "Angie" present. Catching the eye of one of his comrades, who gives him a dark look, he turns back to the man.

 " Who is this "Angie", sir?"

The other pair of Dwarves' vigilance is rewarded by ... silence. Nothing moves, and the forest appears to be undisturbed, though sharp eyes might notice one or two bent leaves to the north, as though someone has passed there. No more than a single person and that unburdened ... but on the road itself there are marks as though something heavier has been dragged along.

At the Dwarf's query the man tries to get up again. "Angie?" he repeats, more urgently. And then, in a despairing whisper, "My daughter. Where - what?"


 Bolosi attempts to push the man gently back into a sitting position. " Don't move, sir...That's a bad knock you've got there. Please, tell us everything that happened. Your daughter is missing? How did your cart get overturned?" &r&r As Bolosi is having this conversation, Horgor (the tallest of the three) inspects the upturned cart....And finds many sacks which have been turned upside down, their contents spilled on the ground. He sniffs at the cart's wood, the scent of un-lit pipe weed filling his nostrils- yet there is no pipweed there.

The man struggles against Bolosi's hands. "But I've got to find her! We were heading east to trade with the Shepherders. Making for the Inn - pony lost a shoe, didn't make it by dark - and then something-" his brows furrow. "Something hit me, and then the cart was toppling and ... I don't remember."

The truth dawns with awful clarity, and his furrowed brow is replaced by a mask of horror as he manages to see past Bolsi's restraining hand to the damage all around. "They've taken everything. My goods - my daughter! Where is my daughter? A girl, 'bout thirteen or so, brown hair and pretty smile ..."

In the woods, the jay squawks again, off to the north. One might wonder if the bird is being disturbed.

[Bolosi(#31483)] As the merchant speaks about his daughter, Bolosi gives him a comforting squeeze. Glancing up at Horgor, the tall dwarf nods, pointing to a det of tracks. They are muffled and unclear, and so the numbers of those who made them are unclear- but there appears to be half a dozen or so. They lead of finto the Chetwood. Looking back at the merchant, Bolosi speaks:

 "Do you know who did this?

The merchant seems to be having trouble focusing on Bolosi. His eyes cloud as he struggles to remember. "I saw ... man," he says at last, indistinctly. "Man dressed in black, with ... with ..." The words trail off and his head lolls back - if Bolosi does not support him, he will fall to the ground. Consciousness has left him.

And in the wood, the jay no longer squawks. Whatever person or thing has made that single set of tracks is clearly gone.

Date added: 2010-07-16 17:38:42    Hits: 30
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