Chapter 25: Espionage
The sun had barely peaked out on the eastern horizon, when Charmane came upon the bandits the game hunter had told them about. She observed the slumbering oafs with a mix of impatience and annoyance, finding herself frustrated that, for once, the plan did not involve a straightforward assassination. The sun was high in the east before the bandits were up. The brigands had wisely positioned themselves on a bluff overlooking the eastern bank of a small lake.
Charmane and her party strolled nonchalantly along the bank, feigning ignorance of the imminent danger lurking above. Suddenly, a gruff yet confident voice resonated from their vantage point. "It's your choice which hits the ground first: your swords or your heads! Be smart now, and you'll all live to grow wise!" declared a man clad in chain mail.
Charmane looked positively delighted, "Aha! Tis our lucky day. We seek employment, my good sir. And it just so happens that we're looking for it with the likes of you."
"Now there's a laugh!" the bandit leader jeered, "Why, pray tell, should we take you rattle-pates?"
Charmane's eyes gleamed with mischief as she locked eyes with the bandit leader. "We've carved up everything that's come our way to get here," she proclaimed, her words laced with genuine pride. "Might as well make a tidy profit from it, don't 'cha think?" She had not uttered a single lie.
The man's skepticism gave way to a thoughtful look. He crossed his arms, leaning back slightly as he surveyed Charmane and her party. After a brief pause, he spoke in a gruff yet intrigued tone, "Well, I'll give you this much, lass. You've got a mouth full of fire, and I reckon that's worth somethin'. All right then, we'll take you to the boss and see if he likes you, too. Follow."
The party trudged east then north through dense forest. As minutes turned to hours, the tangled undergrowth seemed determined to impede their progress, grasping at their ankles with gnarled roots and ensnaring them in thorny vines.
Suddenly, Raiken, the bandit leader's gruff voice sliced through the air, dripping with menace and impatience. "Pick up the pace, else you die slow as well," he declared. Charmane bit her tongue, holding back her retort as she glimpsed a change ahead. The forest gave way to a clearing, revealing a picturesque expanse of grassy terrain. Scattered trees stood like sentinels, casting patches of sunlight onto the lush grass. Her eyes were drawn to a well-trodden path, wide enough to accommodate two caravans, leading north.
As the sun began its descent, enveloping the land in a golden glow of sunset, Raiken abruptly veered off the path and led the party into a cluster of trees. Emerging from the shadowed woods, the party found themselves standing before the very bandit camp they had been seeking. A group of red-skinned demi-humans sat upon weathered rocks, their mouths feasting on the flesh of some unknown creature. These hobgoblins wore green leather armour and their beady eyes followed the party as they walked behind Raiken, their pointed ears twitching under their horned helmets
Beyond the hobgoblins, stood a few domed roundhouses that looked to have been erected hastily by draping animal hides onto simple wooden frames. The closest roundhouse had an adult sized cage in front of it. Inside lay the gruesome, mangled remains of some unknown creatures, it's rotting corpse attracting swarms of flies.
As they neared the hobgoblins, a man in brown leather strode purposefully up to Raiken, his face etched with a mixture of suspicion and annoyance. His voice carried a hint of authority as he demanded an explanation. "Raiken! Who the hell are these roustabouts?! Are ye daft bringing them here?"
"It's a risk, I know," Raiken admitted. "But we must think about keeping our numbers up! We'll not have the time to bring more from Iriaebor. Better that we recruit here." He gestured towards the newly arrived party, "They've already proved themselves to me."
The man narrowed his eyes and cast a scrutinizing gaze upon the newly arrived party. His voice carried a mixture of skepticism and caution as he responded, "Fine, just keep 'em out o' trouble till Tazok gets here, and he can make sure they're on the up an' up. An ogre up yer face will show yer true colours right quick!" No sooner had he said "ogre", one of said monstrosities strode into view.
"Recruits?!" The half-ogre, as Charmane determined from its relatively slight build, thundered indignantly. He wore metal shoulder pads, a green leather loincloth, and sturdy boots, leaving the rest of its tall and intimidating body fully bare. "Secret operation, and you dare to hire those you've just robbed?!" Each word rumbled forth, punctuated by a resonating growl that echoed through the trees. The creature brandished a massive two-handed sword like a knife, while the gnarled fingers of his free arm curled into a massive fist.
Raiken's voice quivered with a tinge of panic as he urgently pleaded his case. "Tazok! W-we need to keep our numbers up!" he exclaimed, desperation lacing his words. His eyes darted nervously between the half-ogre and the newly arrived party, trying to justify his decision. "Besides, we checked them out pretty good. I think they'll do fine."
Raiken growled menacingly, "YOU DON'T THINK! I THINK!" Tazok thundered, his voice laced with contempt. The immense creature then locked eyes with Charmane, its piercing gaze filled with hostility and suspicion. "I say now I don't like you!" he declared. His grotesque features twisted into a malevolent sneer as he continued, "Give me reason to not have you broth-boiled and use your skin to swaddle my small-kin!"
"We're armed to the teeth and razed everything in our path," Charmane boasted, her words dripping with exaggerated pride. "How can we pass up the opportunity to get some coin for going about our daily business? Trust me, we'll make it worth your while."
"Hmmm," the Tazok grumbled, scratching its chin with a gnarled finger. "You have some sense," he admitted begrudgingly, "But I have many a strong back here already. What for I need you?!"
"Must I explain everything?!" Charmane blustered. She tilted her head, fixing the half-ogre with an exasperated look. "Can your thick ogrish skull not see how obviously talented we are? You're a fool if you don't take us!"
The half-ogre's rage burned brightly in its eyes as it glared at Charmane, "I may not be the smartest man, but I know a blowhard braggart when I see one!" the ogre bellowed, its voice filled with fury. "I'm also not the one giving grief to the short-tempered, extremely large half-ogre! Put your sword where your mouth is, or I put MINE there!"
"Gladly," Charmane replied with a wry smile, her weapons gleaming in the fading light. "Defences." She whispered to her team before she seamlessly blended into the surrounding shadows.
Simultaneously, Jaheira, Viconia, and Edwin began casting, their incantations weaving together in a harmonious symphony. An array of vibrant colours enveloped Khalid as he positioned himself to intercept Tazok, his figure briefly glowing with magical energies.
The half-ogre swung his massive sword viciously at Khalid, but by a mere stroke of luck, the blade narrowly missed its mark. Imoen's arrows found their mark on the half-ogre's bare chest, though they failed to penetrate deeply. Swiftly switching to enchanted arrows, the young rogue prepared for her next shot.
Charmane felt a surge of satisfaction as her weapons pierced the half-ogre's flank, causing him to slow down under the icy grip of Varcona's magic. Jaheira, with a swift and decisive motion, slashed across Tazok's waist, leaving a deep gouge in his flesh.
The half-ogre retaliated with a powerful strike aimed at Khalid. The clash of sword against shield echoed through the air, but the force behind the blow was so immense that Khalid felt a bone in his arm crack under the impact.
As Viconia began chanting a healing spell to mend Khalid's injury, Charmane seized the opportunity to slip back into stealth, preparing for another precise strike. However, before she could move, the half-ogre's voice cut through the tension.
"Heh! You fight pretty good. Maybe you're not such weaklings," the half-ogre grumbled, a note of begrudging respect in his tone. Charmane was still in stealth, and took the opportunity to filch a few potions and a gem out of the half-ogres pouch.
"I think you make pretty good bandits." Tazok was saying. "Okay, you have run of the camp. I have business to attend to, but Ardenor and Taurgosz will keep their eyes on you! I'll lead a patrol and depart for my mine tonight! Keep the pressure on the trade routes, and there will be extra gold for all when we're done! I'll be leaving soon," he announced, his voice filled with authority as he turned away, leaving the party to their newfound freedom within the camp.
A hushed murmur of disbelief rippled through the bandits who had gathered around to witness the spectacle. Whether human or hobgoblin, their faces bore expressions of respect and awe as they witnessed the newly recruited adventurers hold their own against the formidable Tazok.
"Piece of cake," Charmane whispered under her breath, her voice barely audible amidst the chaos. Seizing one of the youngest looking men, she tightened her grip. "You there, take us to an unoccupied tent. My comrades and I need rest."
The young lad took them to a tent directly east of a cave. Inside, the moonlight spilled through a central opening in the domed roundhouse, casting eerie shadows that danced upon the unlit brazier below. Scattered across the floor were several rugs, their patterns obscured in the dim light, forming a gathering space for the weary adventurers. Several barrels, a sturdy chest, and numerous sacks were scattered about, giving it a sense of makeshift comfort. The party gathered around the now blazing brazier, weariness evident on their faces.
"I wish we could call it a day, but our work is far from over," Charmane murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, "They may know our faces, but they know nothing about us, and it's best we keep it that way. We shall explore the camp with utmost stealth—"
"And invisibility," Neera interjected with a smug tone.
Charmane's eyes narrowed, and she hissed a warning, her voice laced with urgency. "Lower your voice," she cautioned. "We can explore the camp using stealth and invisibility. Those using the spell or the potion of invisibility, heed my words: make not a single touch, open no doors, disturb naught. Move only when confident that no ear can catch your footsteps. Though invisible to the eye, remember that scent and sound can betray you. Beware of the gnolls, their senses are keen. Extract any valuable intelligence you can find. Reconvene at this very spot in one hour's time."
In the neighbouring tent, a lone man was busy rummaging through a sack, oblivious to the presence of others. Sensing an opportune moment, Charmane dropped her invisibility, materializing beside the man. Startled, he jumped back in surprise.
"Hello," Charmane greeted, her voice calm yet assertive.
The man's expression twisted into a mixture of disdain and suspicion. "Fought Tazok, did ye? And now ye think ye can wander about as ye please?" he sneered, his tone dripping with contempt. "I don't like the looks of ye, not one bit."
Charmane discarded any semblance of diplomacy. "Keep your voice down or my next move won't be a threat." she declared, her voice dripping with menace as she pressed her dagger against the man's throat. "I want to know how this whole place is laid out and I want to know it now,"
Fear gripped the man's trembling form, his face contorting with desperation. "I-it's a bandit camp—tents here, tents there, ain't got no damn geography to it." he stammered, beads of sweat trickling down his brow.
"Then make some. Which one is Tazok's tent?" Charmane demanded, her eyes narrowing with a mix of intensity and impatience.
"The... the big one in the northeast part of the camp." the man stammered, his sweat mixing with his anxiety.
"Are there guards? Any traps?" Charmane pressed, her eyes fixed on his trembling form.
The man's voice quivered as he responded, desperate to comply. "Just the prisoner and a few guards, I swear. No traps, honest!"
"All right, I've got what I want out of you. Don't suppose I can let you live, though, can I? Living lips tell tales, they say." Without hesitation, she swiftly slit the man's throat, silencing him forever. Spotting a nearby barrel, she recognised it as the perfect concealment for his lifeless form. With calculated efficiency, she carefully stowed the body within, obscuring any evidence.
As the rogue moved about in stealth, she noticed a clear distinction between the composition of the camp. The eastern side was exclusively populated by humans while the western section was predominantly inhabited by hobgoblins.
Intriguingly, a hobgoblin, stood guard in front of the cave next to their tent, adamantly cautioning anyone approaching the cave from entering. Apparently, some misbehaving gnolls had been confined to the cave until they "cool down". Charmane shadow-stepped into the cave and counted seven hulking gnolls before fleeing outside.
In one of the tents, Charmane encountered a lone hobgoblin. Unlike the man she killed earlier, this creature was considerably welcoming when she revealed herself. The chatty hobgoblin insisted on equipping her and her entire party with plain leather armour while sharing tidbits about his enigmatic employers. He suspected they were associated with either the Zhentarim or the Iron Throne, but seemed indifferent to their identity as long as he received his dues.
"You did WHAT!?" Charmane couldn't help but exclaim, her frustration boiling over. Her words were barely a whisper as she tried to maintain secrecy. "I specifically told you to remain unseen! Not to go around casting reckless charms on these witless bandits. What happens when the charm wears off, Neera?"
Defiantly, Neera retorted, "Oh, come on! It wasn't just an ordinary charm. I infused it with a potent dweomer. I could feel its strength. Trust me, it'll last... indefinitely. I can be more than a mere walking identification spell, Charmane. Just give me a chance!"
Charmane could feel her temple throbbing with frustration as she fought the urge to hurl a dagger at the unpredictable wild mage. "We'll address this later. Where is this charmed bandit now? Imoen, accompany Neera and take care of him. Discreetly."
"Spontaneity, such a desirable quality in a mage," Edwin said sarcastically, his voice dripping with disdain as the girls left. "Rid yourself of this baggage, Charmane, before it becomes too burdensome. (The look on Nevron's face when I serve the freak to him on a silver platter, hehehehehe.)"
Charmane sighed, "All in good time," she said, sounding tired. "Now, what have we learned?" she asked, looking around at the group.
"The men are all from Iriaebor, the Overland City located some ways east of here," Jaheira replied, her voice hushed. "I recall Tazok mentioning it as well."
"Ah, so that's where the tin plate's accent came from," Edwin interjected. "An over-armed chimp stands a few paces to the east. The lackeys called him Taurgosz. He commands the humans in Tazok's absence."
"Anything else?" Charmane prodded.
"Plate armour, tabard with a black talon…" Edwin listed off. "Yes, yes, he leads the Blacktalon bandits. We already knew that. What piques my interest is that hobgoblin to the west. He reeks of arcane magic. I maintained a safe distance from him, lest my considerable arcane prowess be detected. To maintain secrecy of course. (As if I would force a confrontation by myself.)"
"The human males were whimpering about an Arendor and his 'strange magics'." Viconia informed the group, "I presume this hobgoblin is the same one you speak of, Edwin. They referred to the demi-humans as the 'Chill'."
Khalid chimed in, adding his own observation. "I overheard the men complaining about working with the 'Chill.' It appears there are two distinct bandit groups operating here and they do not get along."
Charmane absorbed the information and proceeded to explain about Tazok's tent and the stockboy's belief that either the Zhentarim or the Iron Throne were responsible for this operation. Turning to her companions, she inquired, "Do any of you have knowledge about this so-called Iron Throne?" The party exchanged glances, but none had encountered any information regarding it.
"If it offers any solace, the men seemed convinced that the Zhentarim are the puppeteers behind this scheme," Khalid interjected, hoping to shed some light on the matter.
Just as the discussion reached its peak, Imoen and Neera re-entered the tent. Imoen wore a satisfied smile, while Neera appeared somewhat sheepish. Eager to share their findings, Charmane quickly briefed the two on the situation.
Neera chimed in, "Hey, charming that guy might come in handy, after all!" she said excitedly, "He said the men giving the order didn't look like they're from Zhentarim at all!"
Imoen eagerly joined the conversation, "Y'see, I sneaked a lil' peek inside that mighty big ol' tent to the east. There's a hobgoblin, a gnoll, and two men in there, one of 'em's a wizard. There's an elf in there too, he's all tied up though. We could save that elf, maybe he can give us some real valuable intel."
Charmane acknowledged Imoen's report with a nod. "Well done, Imoen," she commended, causing Neera's face to fall. "Neera can you identify this ring?" Charmane asked, adding insult to injury.
As Charmane read the magical entry that appeared in her journal, a sly smile spread across her face.