Tellussoil
AwesomeZero5
supamusu
Fetzen
Red Hood
Not a Sayan
SkyeOfStars
DancesWMonstersHarrowfen Bridge held the group in its narrow calm while the marsh below whispered on, indifferent to urgency. Marra’s hands still shook against her apron, but the fact she hadn’t been dragged back to Wickerford yet was a kind of fragile victory—one she seemed afraid to acknowledge out loud.
Jilly’s impatience cut through that fear like a bell. Her answer to the whole tangled mess was immediate and simple—raid them; get in, save people, get out—delivered with the kind of certainty that only comes from not overthinking it.
Frederick’s enthusiasm sparked right along with it, then tempered into something sharper: if the bandits never stay in one place, the real problem isn’t courage—it’s finding them in time, or intercepting them on the move.
Marra swallowed and forced herself to add what she could, as if afraid that speaking too long would summon the guards again. “They don’t take from everyone,” she said. “They take from the ones who can’t afford to resist. And… they came close this time. Too close.” Her voice caught on the last words, and she pressed her lips together hard, as if holding the rest inside would keep her standing.
It was Rat who finally put the missing piece on the bridge between fear and action. His voice came shaky at first, then steadier as he pushed through the nerves: guards talking about a captain, orders to keep clear past the old logging path, and the certainty that the bandits—if they were smart—would move east again, because they always did.
He added the other line too, the one that made Marra’s face go even paler: never thought they’d take a kid this close to the village.
Above, Jilly’s flight widened into a true sweep. From that height the world simplified: dull greens, dark water, pale birch stands, and the thin geometry of human passage. East of Wickerford, the logging cut revealed itself as a faint but unmistakable line—ground packed harder than it should be, with breaks where carts had bitten into softer mud. Further along, half-hidden beneath the canopy, a smear of gray rose and vanished: smoke kept low, as if someone was trying not to advertise a fire.
The bridge didn’t offer comfort, but it offered clarity. With Rat’s warning and Jilly’s eyes in the sky, they finally had something Wickerford had refused to give them: a direction that meant more than hope.
Open next steps, depending on what the group chooses to do:
- Follow the logging path east and close the distance fast—treat it as an interception before dusk.
- Use aerial scouting to confirm whether that smoke is a camp, a rest stop, or a decoy—then move with better certainty.
- Set an ambush at a pinch point Garreth identifies along the cut, forcing the bandits to come through on ground that favors the party.
Jilly’s impatience cut through that fear like a bell. Her answer to the whole tangled mess was immediate and simple—raid them; get in, save people, get out—delivered with the kind of certainty that only comes from not overthinking it.
Frederick’s enthusiasm sparked right along with it, then tempered into something sharper: if the bandits never stay in one place, the real problem isn’t courage—it’s finding them in time, or intercepting them on the move.
 | Garreth Trask Former Captain of Wickerford's Guard ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ Garreth listened without interrupting, eyes narrowed toward the east as if he could will the answers out of the fog. When Jilly produced the baby-blue cape and lifted into the air on a puff of cloud—circling above them like an excited scout—his expression didn’t change much, but his approval was plain in the way he immediately switched into practical detail. “They won’t look like storybook brigands,” Garreth said, voice low. “Some will—patched cloaks, mismatched armor, too many knives. But the ones that matter dress like they’re trying not to be remembered. Dark wool, travel-stained leather, simple helms. They’ll use cords and little tells instead—green twine at the wrist, a snake knot on a belt, a mark inked behind the ear. If you see a wagon with two riders too far apart, that’s not a caravan. That’s teeth.” |
Marra swallowed and forced herself to add what she could, as if afraid that speaking too long would summon the guards again. “They don’t take from everyone,” she said. “They take from the ones who can’t afford to resist. And… they came close this time. Too close.” Her voice caught on the last words, and she pressed her lips together hard, as if holding the rest inside would keep her standing.
It was Rat who finally put the missing piece on the bridge between fear and action. His voice came shaky at first, then steadier as he pushed through the nerves: guards talking about a captain, orders to keep clear past the old logging path, and the certainty that the bandits—if they were smart—would move east again, because they always did.
He added the other line too, the one that made Marra’s face go even paler: never thought they’d take a kid this close to the village.
| Garreth Trask Former Captain of Wickerford's Guard ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ Garreth went very still at that, then nodded once, as if something he’d suspected finally had a name. “The old logging path,” he murmured. “A scar through the reeds and birch—starts like a harmless trail and turns into a quick road if you know where the ground is firm. That’s how they ghost past patrols. And if they’re ‘too close’… then they’re either bold… or they’re staging—holding someone nearby until nightfall before they move.” |
Above, Jilly’s flight widened into a true sweep. From that height the world simplified: dull greens, dark water, pale birch stands, and the thin geometry of human passage. East of Wickerford, the logging cut revealed itself as a faint but unmistakable line—ground packed harder than it should be, with breaks where carts had bitten into softer mud. Further along, half-hidden beneath the canopy, a smear of gray rose and vanished: smoke kept low, as if someone was trying not to advertise a fire.
| Garreth Trask Former Captain of Wickerford's Guard ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ Garreth’s fingers tightened on the bridge’s stone rail. “If you’re going to hit them,” he said, “you don’t hit the village. You don’t shout your plans. You pick the path that makes them predictable—where a cart must slow, where the trees narrow, where a lookout can’t see around the bend. Or you shadow them until you find where they stash what they take.” |
The bridge didn’t offer comfort, but it offered clarity. With Rat’s warning and Jilly’s eyes in the sky, they finally had something Wickerford had refused to give them: a direction that meant more than hope.
Open next steps, depending on what the group chooses to do:
- Follow the logging path east and close the distance fast—treat it as an interception before dusk.
- Use aerial scouting to confirm whether that smoke is a camp, a rest stop, or a decoy—then move with better certainty.
- Set an ambush at a pinch point Garreth identifies along the cut, forcing the bandits to come through on ground that favors the party.
