KingsInExile/Session1

It was almost week ago, on the first day of Resplendent Water, that Pickgrease had set his caravan in motion with an ear-piercing whistle. Four great yeddim-drawn wagons had ponderously taken to the great eastern trade road, followed by the half-dozen horse-drawn wagons and as many heavily-packed carts, and the looming silhouettes of Nexus had gradually vanished into the local grey-brown smog.

Eager to make it out of the utterly unprofitable commercial sinkhole surrounding that great city, Pickgrease had set a demanding pace and bypassed the squalid villages that butted onto the trade road every few miles at first, then steadily sparser. The more experienced among the crew simply put up with it, tending to the dozens of little logistical and mechanical snags that plagued every caravan just setting out, thanking the gods for the absence of heavy rain that could turn a packed earth road into a muddy river, and pitching tent and turning in early each night, bone-weary and taciturn.

But today, the depressingly uniform cloud cover had finally broken under a stiff eastern wind, so that ragged clouds and splashes of sunlight alternated in quick succession and the air warm enough to loosen collars and put aside coats and cloaks. By noon the caravan crested a raise in the landscape somewhat taller than the previous, allowing a generous view of lower, rolling slopes. Beyond and below lay a grey-blue ribbon that twisted its way north to join the indistinct brown line that ought to be the great yellow river.

Seated in the open howdah atop one of the yeddims, Pickgrease finally took note of his three very special mercenary-guests, waving them over.

Candida tilted her head as she took note of her current employer as he waved her and the other 'special' mercenary guards/guests. And by 'special', one could infer essence user. With a slight nudge to her mount, the white haired mercanry rode closer to the yeddim upon which Pickgrease was located upon.

Burning Cherry didn't hurry when making her way over to where Pickgrease was, but instead tilted her hat to shade her eyes from the sun and purposefully wandered in his direction. There was a faint smile on her lips, as the others would be used to seeing, and her unremarkable coat was partially unbuttoned for now.

Though it wasn't typical for him to take up directly combative work (despite how well-armed for the average man he was), Anthael had taken the position as it was after all a lead on some of his wayward creations. He unceremoniously snagged one of the lower-ranked handlers to take the reins of his ox-drawn wagon as he jumps off and heads over, trusting in the amount and variety of weapons he carries to keep the handler from any 'curiosity' (genuine or not) into the contents of his cargo.

Skillful for one of his girth, Pickgrease climbed down one of the half-dozen rope ladders down the yeddim's side, to squat down on one of the larger packs of luggage tied and netted to the shaggy beast. Catching sight of Candida, he smiled his usually greasy smile, included Cherry as she drew ner, and gave a nod towards Anthael - but as he spoke, his eyes soon returned to focus squarely on Candida's chest. "Good to see you lot kept up. Wouldn't want to miss a fine day like this, eh?"

"It is pleasent." Cherry allowed with a tilt of her head, the brim of her hat dipping with the motion, "Little enough rain so that there is little mud, but not so much sun that there is dust. No snow, but instead a pleasent warmth... But was the weather really all you wished to speak about?"

Candida continued chewing on a stalk of some sort of weed or was it grain, and ignored the look on her chest. She had grown accustomed to the strange behaviours of the people outside of her tribe. Still, it didn't mean she couldn't dismount and walk with the caravan. Which she did. "Indeed, it is a nice day... but is something the matter?"

Anthael merely followed along the others for the moment, though gave both of the other hired mercenaries a nod in greeting. They had already asked the most pertinent question, which could hardly be expanded upon without further information from the caravan master.

"Shit no," Pickgrease said. "Just trying to be... friendly, you know? Maybe I'll invite you and your friend here up to the howdah later, but..." He absently scratched his trousers, gathering his thoughts. "Business first, right. We're getting close to Adahra river now, and since the fucking spring floods just flushed the goddamn -bridge- downstream last year, we have to take the ferry."

Candida nodded at that, a frown gracing her face. "And will there be some sort of problem? Tolls or... other river rats trying their hands at banditry?"

"Now, there's bandits in these parts, and some of 'em figured that the river's a great chokepoint to... to..." At a faint shout from towards the back of the caravan, he craned his head.

Burning Cherry turned towards the sound unhurriedly, letting her gaze sweep across the surroundings before looking towards the source of the shout. One hand half moved towards the great blade slung across her back, wrapped in cloths as it was, and her smile became somehow gentler.

Candida nodded at that, a frown gracing her face as she turned to look back and about the environment. Shouts could mean a distraction, which was why her hands were near her weapons.

Anthael turns as well as he hears the shout. "To make ambush or ask for toll or tribute or however they may term it," he finishes for Pickgrease. "What's that shouting about, then?" While he doesn't ready one of his weapons quite yet, he does shift himself so that drawing them would be easier if need be.

A scout, clothes dusty and his mount sweaty, met up with the tall figure of the ex-mercenary Foursquare Herron, and appeared to confer briefly. After a nod and a gesture towards the rise of the crest, the latter made his way towards the head of the caravan. "Sir! We've got two dozen armed men on our tail... I figure they'll get to where we are now in half an hour."

Pickgrease gulped. "Mention the demon..."

Anthael relaxes a bit, insofar as the caravan wasn't in immediate threat within the next few minutes. "Was there anything identifying them? Colors or banner or the like?"

"Well." Burning Cherry breathed, shaking her head slowly, as her eyes took in the ladnscape around for a hint of betraying motion, "That does seem a rather inhospitable group to be chasing our dust so avidly. Would it be better to greet them as they arrive, in case they have further friends, or to step back and meet them half way where nothing might be damaged in the excitement?"

Foursquare hesitated, then answered at a nod by Pickgrease. "Nothing like that, but it's usually like that with mercenaries turned bandit in a slow season, and that's what this smells like." In a mutter he added, "I should know..."

Pickgrease considered Cherry's words, and began to nod slowly.

Candida hmmed and thought about it. "unless they're essence users, two dozen shouldn't be an issue with what we have available. Any obvious signs of godblooded, anathema or... dragonblooded?"

Anthael hmphs at Foursquares comment in agreement, though his own experience with such matters has been from the other side of such incidents...

Caravaneer and second in command exchanged looks as Candida spoke. "Yeah, and they're led by the effing Scarlet Empress," Pickgrease said.

Burning Cherry simply listens to these questions before finally murmuring, "Well, I believe that we might need to admonish her Ladyship then."

"I need to know..." Pickgrease slowly said, leaving unspoken that there was stuff he thought he -didn't- want to know, "Can you three, and half the guards I have if you need 'em, keep them back, or lead them the wrong way? We need only half an hour ourselves downslope. If we're on the water, they can't get to us."

Candida shrugged, confident in her abilities. "It shouldn't be an issue."

"Assuming that you can trust the ferry crew, that seems workable." Cherry stated approvingly with a small nod. Her hand had slipped from the daiklaive on her back as the conversation, rather than an attack, had continued.

Anthael nods in agreement. "Provided there are no exceptionally unpleasant surprises I'd think so..."

"Great. Uh... don't let the girls get cut, that'd be a real waste," Pickgrease somewhat lamely finished.

Candida's eyebrow rose up at the Caravan master's statement. "Me... get cut?"

Anthael sighs quietly and turns to Foursquare rather than get directly involved with Pickgrease's attempts at talking with the two women. "How many guards can be spared, then, and how are they armed?"

"It is a rather quick way to die, but I'll be sure not to worry you by allowing it." Cherry told Pickgrease, her faint smile still in place as she spoke quite conversationally, "I do wish you a pleasent crossing over the river though."

"Just one dozen," Foursquare said to Anthael. "They've got horses, swords, and horsebows. Never mind the ladies, don't get these boys killed. They're not... they're just mortal."

The smile on Cherry's lips, and the look in her eyes, softened slightly and she made a gesture of blessing as she replied, "They are under the dominion of Mars, but I do not count the lives of others as lightly as my own."

Candida nodded at Foursquare, before criking the kinks out of her neck. "I'll make sure that they'll get back alive to the best of my ability."

"Er, sure. I'm sure you'll be fine," Pickgrease said placatingly, keeping a wary eye on Cherry in particular. Then he breathed in deeply and bellowed. "Okay folks, you've all heard it by now. Hike up yer skirts and -move- those wagons! Horse-drawn first, don't wait for each other!"

With that, Candida remounted her horse.

The caravan's personal started flitting about securing various goods and straps, and prodding the horses and yeddim. Gradually, slowly, the caravan began to gain speed, soon at a brisk walking pace.

In its wake, three Exalts and a dozen man ahorse remained on top of the crest. Towards the west, a tiny cloud of dust was raising along the line of the trade road.

Candida eyeing the dust cloud of the bandits and at her forces. "I assume that it would be best if Cherry and I went in up close with you lot providing ranged cover in the form of arrows..."

As it passes Anthael checks his wagon to make sure everything is properly tied down, and pats the ox on the flank as he tells the handler that he would need to keep the reins for a decent amount of time further.

The handler tugged his forelock and said that he'll do all he can to keep the wagon, and of course himself, from being overrun by bandits and possible cut into little pieces.

Anthael says, "Unless you think otherwise I'll stay with the guards in case any of the bandits try to slip around the side. I don't have the range without borrowing a bow, and while I'm a fair hand with my blade I don't see myself being quite as effective as the both of you at the front."

Cherry nods in agreement with Candida then turns to face back along the road. The still shrouded shape of her weapon is in her hand as she nods to the other guards who had been left with them and jokes, "So I think that's a case of us going first and you watching our backs? A dagger in the spine would, oddly enough, put a crimp in my day. Feel free to put a crimp in the day of the incoming gentleman though..."

While Candida's words got approving nods, the guards as one raise their swords as Cherry spoke. "We'll gut them!" "Yeah!" "For the lady in red!"

Anthael grins with a nod. "As you say." He unslings his firewand and loads it, then loosens his sword for proper drawing.

Candida eyed the conditions of the environment. While it was tempting to simply light the plain on fire... the wind was blowing towards them, which made it... not ideal for such ideas. "How far can you shoot accurately?"

Burning Cherry stepped silently forward, her step light and her motions sure, onto the rise and settled herself into position right where those on the trail would be forced to come straight through. Her hands rested easily on the daiklaive's hilt for now and her smile showed only confidence as her very posture drew the eye and demanded attention from those who might look at her.

Candida eyed Cherry as she drew her flame sword, its fiery blade giving a rather good hint as to what it could do.

Burning Cherry murmured in a voice which carried surprisingly well, "I will have a word with the gentlemen. If they stop to listen, feel free to take aim just in case they choose not to turn away at the end."

Anthael takes position partway between the two women and where the guards were positioned, giving him a wider field of view than the two at the fore, but access to the most maneuverability to adapt to their incoming opponents. The firewand in hand and ready for use if needed.

The three Exalts and dozen caravan guards having taken up position, what was left was waiting for the other party. The dust plume had by now approached and enlarged enough so that which was made it became visible: A long column of well-armed and armored riders, their clothing black and bearing no color or flag.

At the very foot of the slope the Exalts stood waiting, the approaching riders paused adruptly in their tracks, horses baying and turning to get out of each other's way, one in the lead even rearing, and settling down. Collectively, they stared upslope, there where a crimson banner swayed in the wind.

"Greetings, ones who come so willingly to war." Cherry announced, a deep breath carrying her slow words easily across the intervening distance and to all those present. "Greetings to those who are here to have blood spilled and be spilled."

Her hand moved and the daiklaive sliced effortlessly through cloth, unveiling its razor sharp edge, "It has been some time since this blade once again tasted lives, too long in the eyes of some. Some shall die today, perhaps you or perhaps I." Cherry laughed softly, "Oh, shall we dance oh brothers of the blade? It shall be a great and glad thing... Who shall partner me first while I am still fresh? Who shall hand back and be filled with steel and wooden shafts. Who shall burn, their flesh roasting under my companions blade? Come now, if you wish war then continue on this path!"

Her voice dropped and she added more softly, making all strain to hear her, "We shall make war... Please, feel free to see who shall die first."

The mercenaries-turned-bandits shouted back from below, their voices shrill and frail despite their anger. After some let loose a handful of ill-aimed arrows, they charged upslope in unordered fashion. The caravan guards drew their bows with grim precision and waited for the word.

Burning Cherry let the smile settle on her face, and the serenity of battle fix itself in her heart, as she spoke in a terrible and eager whisper, "And so let there be war..."