The Dauntless

”Well hey,” Django says, a vein pulsing in his temple as his cheery grin becomes a clench-toothed grimace and he wipes the bloody spittle off his cheek. ”Now that our good Paladin is gone, are we going to have to do this the hard way, or are you gonna put that misplaced pride back where you found it and tell us who you’re working for and where they are? Because my friend likes the hard way,” he adds, jerking his thumb toward Antoinette.

Antoinette stamps her foot on one of the hobgoblins legs in response to Django’s comment. She pulls out her sword and holds it over the hobgoblin’s leg. ”We need you alive for the bounty, true. But they said nothing about being in one piece.”

The hobgoblin growls indignantly, but looks nervous at the appearance of the sword. "... fine. We were hired by a witch named Voz to guard this place and not let anyone into the tunnels in the cliff face. She's down there now."

”Merci,” Antoinette says, though she does not move her weapon. ”Is there anything else we can expect down in those tunnels?”

”Thanks,” Django says. ”Appreciate iiiiiiii...”
His words trail off to a groan as he reflexively clutches at his temple, overcome by a sudden, dizzying headrush. Grabbing Antoinette’s shoulder to steady himself, he tries to shake it off but finds the fog in his head to be rather persistent. Blinking his eyes hard, he tries to refocus on anything, eventually landing on the butterfly pendant now hanging free from around his bent neck, and notices, with a slow feeling of dread and instant remorse, that one of the wings has splintered, with a huge crack now visible in the smoothly polished wood.

"I don't go down the tunnels, I guard them." At Django's sudden spell, she raises both eyebrows. "Uh... you... okay, human?" she asks, making sure her voice is filled with as much disgust as possible to make it clear she's asking out of curiosity, not concern.

”Just peachy,” Django groans, shaking his head like a dog. ”Thanks for the concern though.” Looking toward Antoinette, he asks, ”What should we do with them?”

Antoinette looks at Django with worry, but decides not to question now. She punches the hobgoblin to knock her back out and lifts her up onto her shoulder. ”Not much to do now but take them in for the bounty. I certainly don’t want to leave them out here while we delve into the cave.”

By the time the interrogation is finished and wounds are healed by resting, the sun is beginning to crest the horizon, turning the sky orange with its light. Given the time and the state of the bandits, the group decides to head back to town and come back first thing in the morning, so they haul the dead and unconscious bodies with them and make their way back to Breachill.

As the party makes its way back into town, Django turns to the others apologetically and says, "Sorry, guys, but I think I need to meet you at the Grace in a couple hours. I pretty desperately need some church."

Django splits from the party at the town gates. The trek back to town hall, where the jail is located is steady going, although you once again draw many eyes on the way there between your prisoners and the wargs. This time no one takes your quarry from you, as they're not an official town mission (the bounty being offered by the nation). As such, you bring them to the jail directly, where the lean, muscular half-elf captain of the guard, Wilford Lavendil, is currently leaning back in his chair. The only current occupants of the cells Calmont, who's acquired a hollow wooden ball that he bounces against the wall and back into his hand, and a gnome currently passed out drunk.

Once they're in the jail, Dorrak nods to the guard captain and sets the prisoners and corpses down. "We took down the Bloody Blades. Three and the leader are still alive, one died to a fall and the other bled out," he gestures to each of the bodies in turn. "They were occupying Guardian's Way."

Lavendil smirks. "Well, aren't you an industrious bunch. Most adventuring groups around these parts do one favor for someone, relish in the limelight then move on to greener pastures. Meanwhile you lot are filling up my jail cells with crooks left and right. Lemme check the bounty board." He tilts his head three inches to the left, to a small board with a few handwritten notes on it. "Yep, that'll come out to 65 gold."

”Merci,” Antoinette replies, taking the gold and starting to divide it into shares. ”I think a lot of people have been discovering lately that we aren’t so typical as adventurous types go.”

A slightly-longer walk than usual later, Django arrives in the meditation garden of the Dreamhouse, taking a seat near the center, having passed Father Carondil leading a choir rehearsal on his way in. A little sheepishly, like a child who's been slapped on the wrists for something they knew was against the rules, he takes his fractured butterfly pendant in hand, closes his eyes and begins to quietly mumble prayers of regret and atonement for his sin of deliberately causing fear in another sentient being.

"I'll say," Lavendil nods. "Don't get me wrong, I'm a fan of adventurers too, but we get too many wannabes, grifters and arrogant jackasses for me to buy into the hero worship. It's nice seeing a group that genuinely seems to want to do good. Especially if that good puts lowlifes and bandits in my cells."

"Well we're more than happy to help with that," Luna says with a chuckle.

Meanwhile, as Django sits in prayer and contemplation, he feels a soothing coolness on his skin, like a blanket just as you slide beneath the covers. The sensation is comforting, but there's also a sense of chastisement, as though being tucked into these covers by a mother after doing something wrong and being sent to bed early. The feeling passes over Django's forehead, and the mild throbbing headache he'd felt fades away. When he opens his eyes again, the deep split in his holy symbol has faded; the crack that remains is thin and shallow, a reminder rather than a warning.

Antoinette walks into the tavern watching Fleur carefully. She approaches the bar and helps Fleur up onto a seat before sitting down herself. "Bonjour, can I get a glass of wine and some raw meat for my companion?"

Trinil Uskwold, the halfling proprietor of the tavern looks at Antoinette and then at Fleur and Nova with some degree of concern before returning her attention to Fleur. "Uh... sure? You, uh, you didn't have companions before so I'll just remind you of the rules, if the pups break it you buy it, and if they eat someone you're out." She then looks at the other two. "Anything for you guys?"

"They'll behave themselves," Dorrak assures her, casting a meaningful glance at Nova. "I'll have some dinner please, if you still have some food left tonight. And a piece of raw meat."

"A mead please, and whatever is still edible in the kitchen," Luna says.

"Got it." Trinil pours a glass of red and a tankard of mead, passing them to Antoinette and Luna respectively before heading into the back. When she returns, it's with a very large shepard's pie and a plate piled with raw meat. "Here we go, tonight's special. Let me know if you need anything else."

Antoinette begins sipping her wine before separating out a portion of the meat for Fleur. ”Here you go. I know you’d prefer to hunt for yourself but we didn’t exactly have a lot of time today. Once we finish this business with Voz I promise to take you on a big day long hunt in the woods.”

"Ah, excellent," Luna says, eyeing the pie as savagely as the wargs eye the meat. She takes a deep swig of her mead before extracting a sizable chunk of the shepherd's pie onto a plate.