There are many reasons why someone might have found themselves on this outing to a small village two days or so from the grand city itself, but almost everyone regrets that decision. A cold, nearly icy, rain sleets down at almost right angles to the road making everyone, human and animal alike, wet and most likely miserable despite every attempt to counter it. Yet despite the weather the caravan trudges on, moving slowly but steadily towards their destination.

There are three wagons today and two caravan guards (besides yourselves, should you consider yourself a guard) but those guards have been keeping to themselves. Often they are huddled together, talking softly between themselves, and casting suspicious looks in the direction of each of you. The guards finish chatting and start walking around the wagons, close enough that they are out of view at least some of the time, before finally coming back to the front. "Theres a rest stop ahead" says the one with the moss-green cloak (you cant really see what he looks like behind the hood.) "We should start thinking of pulling in and taking a break."
"We'll lose half a day if we stop now." Answers the grizzled wagon master on the foremost wagon. "We're pushing on." The guard who spoke casts a look to his companion but he doesn't argue. He just falls back into position close to the side of the first wagons horse.

Jan rides along. Cold. Miserable. Her armor sporting literal icicles at some point she never the less seems to just assume that this is her place on this convoy regardless of what anyone says. She certainly isn't doing so entirely sober but she certainly keeps the nips of whiskey to a measured careful pace even if there were any time she'd like to dull her wits it'd be about now. Her horse plods along ejecting gouts of steam with it's exhale.

Raymesin is just another caravan guard, hired in the city. He does this sort of thing every now and again, although not usually in winter. He trudges at the side of the third wagon, boots squelching with every step, shoulders hunched and hat tilted against the rain. He's not normally in a good mood, but the foul mood he's in right now is almost palpable. He does perk up a little when one of the other guards goes to speak with the caravan master and gets rebuffed, though, for one reason or another.

Sira is prine to frowning, but the woman's deep-set frown in this moment is unrivaled. Even in her warmest clothes, wrapped tightly in a (borrowed) oiled leather cloak to resist the rain, she is damp. That damp is causing all the warmth to leech from her on this wretched journey. Her gold-rimmed blue eyes narrow at the moss-cloaked guard and the wagon master. "Does the rest area have shelter?" She calls out to the pair, displeasure apparent in her tone. "Losing half a day would be worth the delay if it allowed us all a chance to dry out and warm up."

Fray doesn't normally sign up for guard duty, but she's spent more time outside of the city walls due to the knight errant nature of her Orders. She walks along the side of the of the middle of the escort, wanting to be equally ready regardless of the direction. She is cold, her armor doing more harm than good against the weather, but she knows it would be pointless to complain.

"Not if it means spending an extra night camping out here" The crone's words cut through Sira's argument. "I, for one, want to spend tonight under a roof." The moss-cloaked guard turns in his saddle to look in Sira's direction, his friend, the one in the navy cloak, moves up to walk just a little behind Raymesin. The wagon train continues on, cresting a little hill. The rest spot comes into sight. It doesn't have shelter but it does boast a little stream and some flat ground. Such luxury. The wagon train continues on.. but as you reach the rest spot there comes an almighty CRACK from the rear wheel of the first wagon. It seems your decision to stop has been made for you..

Raymesin checks perception and survival at hard. Raymesin marginally fails.

Fray checks perception and streetwise at hard. Fray fails.

Jan checks perception and survival at hard. Jan fails.

Sira checks perception at hard. Botch! Sira fails completely.

Sira checks perception and streetwise at hard. Sira marginally fails.

Raymesin checks perception and survival at easy. Raymesin is successful.

Fray checks perception and survival at easy. Botch! Fray fails completely.

Sira checks perception and survival at easy. Sira is successful.

Jan checks perception and survival at easy. Jan is successful.

Fray heads over to check the wheel, crouching down to examine it. She has no skill in woodworking, but she knows enough about smithing that maybe she could help some way.

Fray checks perception and smithing at normal. Fray is successful.

For whatever reason, Raymesin doesn't react to the navy-cloaked guard moving up a little closer behind him. Whether it's because he's lulling the man into a false sense of security or because the driving, stinging sleet is holding most of his attention and he simply hasn't noticed, is anyone's guess. What isn't anyone's guess is the way the crack from the wheel has his head snapping round to look into the woods, and a few moments later he shouts, "Ware ambush!"

Thankfully, Sira was not sitting in the /first/ wagon. She was sitting in the second. "Fuck," She huffs out, her voice quiet - but not quiet quiet enough. Her attention moves toward the rest area, wondering if there is enough cover by tree for a chance to stretch her legs, at least. Instead, she spots movement in the trees about a second before Raymesin shouts. The woman flings herself to the floor of the wagon to get out of sight.

Jan's head turns this way and that and she turns her horse facing out "What was that sound?" she has her back to the wagons, trusting the civilians to tell her what's up while she keeps her gaze out into the sleet.

Raymesin checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Raymesin is successful.

Half a dozen rough looking men (and maybe the odd woman. Its hard to tell given their clothing, the trees and the horrible weather.) step out from amongst the trees with bows and handaxes to hand. "Hand it over" Drawls one of them. Proving that at least one of them is a woman in the process. "And nobody'll get 'urt."

The two cloaked guards draw their swords.

The caravaneer shrieks "Why are you still standing there! This is why we pay..." only to die on that last word as the guard in the moss-cloak practically hacks her head off. Surprise! His friend uses the surprise of that moment to try and stick a sword in Raymesin.

And with that. Combat is on... Unless you want to surrender?

Raymesin checks dexterity and small wpn at normal. Raymesin is successful.

Fray checks strength and huge wpn at normal. Critical Success! Fray is spectacularly successful.

Jan checks dexterity and medium wpn at normal. Jan marginally fails.

As the bandits approach from the woods they split off individually. One of them heads for Jan with an axe in hand and a jaunty saunter to his step but the others go to the wagons where they try and climb in and haul the poor merchants physically from the wagons. Sira included! The traitorous guard who just murdered the wagoneer on the first wagon turns to try and attack Fray whilst the otherone tries to follow up his attempt to backstab Raymesin. A failure he is probably about to regret..

Jan checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Jan is successful.

Sira checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Sira is successful.

Raymesin checks dexterity and dodge at normal. Raymesin is successful.

Jan drives her horse forward and misses her target but she does manage to duck low in her saddle under the counter strike, "Always when it's miserable out, turdmunchers." she gripes under her breath.

The sound of someone scrambling at the side of the wagon has Sira looking up and then crab-walking back from hands attempting to grab her. "Keep your filthy hands away from me!"

Raymesin's new friend in the navy cloak tries to get very friendly indeed with the point of his sword - but Raymesin's not there to be stabbed. He spins in place, his cloak swirling theatrically and fouling his enemy's blow with heavy hide. When the folds of the garment do part it's to reveal a blackened blade held in a black leather glove, and it turns out that Raymesin's better at surprise stab than the navy-cloaked guard. It's not immediately fatal, but Raymesin's teeth gleam in something resembling a smile.

Fray stops checking on the wheel as she hears the Wagoneer get killed as she pulls out her greatsword, reading it sweeping stance waiting for the guard to get closer. She then sweeps her sword with great force, catching the guard's neck against the wagon's walls with a big 'thunk' against the wood. "You're supposed to be worth Jan, why haven't you killed them yet?" Fray shouts out to Jan, seeing her miss her target.

Raymesin checks dexterity and small wpn at normal. Raymesin is successful.

Sira checks dexterity and legerdemain at normal. Sira is successful.

Fray checks dexterity and athletics at normal. Fray is successful.

Fray checks strength and huge wpn at normal. Fray is successful.

Jan checks dexterity and medium wpn at normal. Critical Success! Jan is spectacularly successful.

Jan grunts irritably "Yeah which means I don't answer to you, Dame Fray." She calls "Mistress Sira! hunker down in the wagon!" She pops back up and lifts her sword and swings again.

Sira has few tools at her disposal in the wagon, but she knows she needs to buy herself some time. As the bandit gets closer, she uses her lower position (huddled on the floor of the wagon as she is) to her advantage. With one arm raised to try to fend of the bandit's hands, her other hands reaches in toward his waist to grab hold of - and then undo - the buckle of his belt. This sends his sheath clattering loose and his trousers begin to slide off his hips. It's a distracting and compromising situation.

The guard might have been expecting one blade to emerge from the voluminous folds of Raymesin's cloak. He doesn't seem to have been expecting the second, striking at a different angle, straight for one of the chinks in his armour. Blood sprays in the rain, and Raymesin's teeth bare in a feral rictus of a grin. And then he's whirling again, seeking out his next victim.

Fray looks around after killing the guard, noticing Sira being attacked. She quickly runs over to the wagon Sira is in, first noticing the attacker's pants having fallen down, and then pushing the length of her sword through her target's back, hopefully not skewering Sira at the same time.

Even as the fight continues the bandits continue their efforts to capture the wagons. The one in the first wagon - the disabled one - clears the dead caravan mistresses friend out of the wagon before noticing that his friends are rapidly reducing in numbers. He hops down from the wagon after that and makes to run away into the forest. The one in the final wagon also manages to clear everyone out of his wagon but in his case the wagon is still attached to a horse. Rather than trying to run he screams yah! And tries to drive the horse and wagon right through the space currently occupied by Jan and Raymesin!

Fray checks dexterity and athletics at normal. Fray is successful.

Fray checks strength and huge wpn at normal. Fray is successful.

Raymesin checks dexterity and small wpn at normal. Raymesin is successful.

Jan checks dexterity and athletics at normal. Jan marginally fails.

Now, though grateful not to be dead or imminently under attack any longer, Sira releases a startled scream when a blade pokes through the bandit near her face. Then, reality sinks in. That thrust of Fray's blade caused a spray of blood to fly at the seamstress. The seamstress who does NOT like icky, gross, dirty things. Like blood. On her. The woman pulls herself away from the dead body as quickly as she can and has a little freak out while trying to wipe blood off of her. Is there still a fight? She is entirely unaware.

Jan launches herself out of the saddle and towards the wagon but misses the mark and winds up clinging to the edge of the coach seat "Someone stoop this thiiiiing!"

Raymesin turns to face the wagon he'd been walking beside; one of his hands comes up, and the knife in it is flipped and caught again, the blade held at the point between two gloved fingers. A moment more to sight and it's let fly, flashing forwards end-over-end, to land with a dull thud in the ambusher.

Noticing one of the ambushers running away, Fray runs after them and soon catches up to them, using her weapon's reach and heft to sweep at their legs, causing them to fall. After they fall to the ground, Fray points their weapon close to the person's neck, asking: "Tell me who sent you, or I make this painful."

The woman that Fray pursued in her mad run for the woods tries to scramble away from Fray. She still has hold of her axe and has not surrendered but she knows she is at a disadvantage.
The guy making off with the wagon screams as the blade plunges into his shoulder. His eyes wild as he flinches away from Jan's impact. Thrashing the reins in an attempt to get the horse to run faster. Faster! Being Here is BAD!

Jan checks strength and athletics at normal. Jan is successful.

Raymesin checks dexterity and small wpn at normal. Raymesin is successful.

Fray checks strength and huge wpn at normal. Fray is successful.

Jan hauls herself up with a grunt, giving an ill-tempered sneer at the coachman of the wagon she's just hauled herself on, grabbing the reigns and leaving Fray and Raymesin to remedying the situation.

Fray knocks the weapon out of the fleeing woman with her sword, while trying to close their distance to prevent escape.

Raymesin's second knife flies, catching somewhere more vital - or at least, more painful. The bandit jerks, back arching, leaving themself very much a target for Jan to do whatever she likes with in the moment.

In disgust, and dismay at having to allow the rain handle most of the blood situation she's in, Sira looks over at the remaining commotion just in time to see Raymesin's knife do an impressive landing maneuver. She gapes, horror coming over her as she sees the wagon full of goods in a shambles.

Jan checks strength and brawl at normal. Jan is successful.

Jan lifts one arm and gives a powerful shove, shoving the man off the wagon with other hand clutching the reigns to slow the horses only AFTER she's evicted the man from the wagon "Everyone alright?"

Thud goes the body as it tumbles from the wagon and into the dirt. Its questionable if he was dead before he hit the dirt, or after, but he certainly never gets up again. The bandit that Fray has disarmed and downed holds her hands up. "I surrender! I surrender!" And finally the merchant that was so recently evicted from his wagon catches up with Jan. "Oh thank the gods! You saved us."

Raymesin looks around for anyone else in need of decorating with a knife hilt; while he's at it, he makes his way over to the one who still has two prior decorations sticking out of them. Good knives are, after all, expensive.

Fray grabs ahold of the bandit and demands, "Who sent you before I lose my patience and kill you?"

"Nobody sent us!" Claims the bandit being interrogated by Fray. "We just wanted to make some money."

Jan wonders towards Fray "Did you figure out what happened to that wagon wheel? How long would that have traken?"

Fray holds her blade against the bandit's throat. "The guards were also in on it, and the wheel just happened to break. Doesn't sound like this just happened. Who tipped you off?"

Raymesin bends down to retrieve his knives from the last bandit to have been killed, then thumbs their eyes closed. "May yer go swiftly ter th'Queen'a Endin's," he says, voice a low murmur, "An' may She greet yer wi'open arms."

"We aren't working for anyone" claims the bandit. "They were working with us."

Sira's head snaps toward the remaining bandit. "Just wanted to make some money?" Her voice is venomous. "There are far more /efficient/ ways to do that! Fools. Did you even pay attention to who was part of this group?" She motions to herself. "You could have earned double or more as hired guards for me and my supplies than by attacking me."

Jan falls silent and brings the wagon to a slow stop, "Dame Fray! Would you fetch the horse I was riding?" the horse, somewhat spooked continued running for a bit but now is trotting in anxious circles around the wagon.

"Why? Who are you?" The bandit lady looks to the group now, suspicious, wary. "Look. If I tell you who was involved. Will you let me go?"

"On my honor as a knight of the Gold Order, *I* will let you go if you tell us." Fray reassures the woman.

"Master Sira Illuso, Voice of the Silver Consortium," Sira makes the introduction, standing as tall and stately as she can. She frowns at Fray's words and looks aside toward Raymesin, muttering something just to him.

The woman carefully pulls herself up into a seated position. "Jon and Frank there" she nods towards the guards "This was all their idea. They would get themselves hired on as guards and then make sure the goods would be here at the right time. Then all we did was wait, run in, take the wagons and sell what we wanted to. It worked alright until you." she glares at Raymesin for some reason.

Jan calls out "Your word means you won't kill her, Dame." her tone firm and her slate gaze full of warning.

Raymesin, meanwhile, goes from corpse to corpse, blessing each and every one in the name of the Queen of Endings. That doesn't stop him keeping an eye and an ear on what's going on with the live one, though. Or stopping to murmur something to Sira on the way past.

Fray puts a firm hand on the woman's arm, strong enough to make sure she doesn't go anywhere, looking to Jan. "I did say that, and I won't kill her. But if a certain commoner who's sworn no such thing did something, or if my employer told me to, I couldn't well refuse."

The woman's expression says wait WHAT?! Her eyes shifting between Fray and the others with an edge of panic.

Jan nods once "I won't have it. Master Murder understands that desperation-the needs of one's obligations can drive one to desperate ends-and he also knows the value of a word given."

Jan repeats more firmly "I won't have it."

Raymesin pauses what he's doing in order to turn and stare at Fray. "Yer not supposed ter /tell/ 'em," he grumbles. Ice-blue eyes meet the bandit's in turn, and then he looks to Jan, one eyebrow raising. "Yer call me that, then yer call me off. Pick one."

Sira stares daggers at Jan. "Desperation? This was not desperation! This was calculated, plotted. Desperation happens in the moment, /my lady/."

Jan tilts her head "We are more than our skillsets, Master Murder. Let her go with a warning. That next time everyone known to her will join her in the Queen's embrace." she looks to Sira "The Dame gave her word, Mistress. That means something. Perhaps next time the Dame will spend her words more wisely next time."

"They were /employed/," Sira continues, her anger bubbling along. "They would have been paid handsomely for safe transport." There's a flash in the woman's eyes as she looks around at the bodies strewn about the carts. "The Dame gave her word, not a one of the either of us," She motions to Raymesin, "Gave any such thing. Her word is not broken."

Sensing an opportunity to escape the woman bandit says "WE was desperate! We was! We've eleven children between us and they were all so hungry. We had to do something! You understand. Please."

"I gave you the opportunity to speak, but I'm getting tired of this back and forth. And as Jan mentioned earlier, it's a good thing we don't answer to each other. Your cooperation was noted." Fray quickly says, now annoyed as she goes ahead and kills the bandit.

Raymesin straightens up to his full height. "Everyone knows th'punishment fer banditry," he informs Jan. "Same as piracy, there ain't no need fer warnin's." His pale eyes narrow, hard and cold, and his voice drops with genuine anger behind it. "An' you don't get ter call me Master Murder an' then tell me you won't 'ave it. It don't work like that, but I'm right fuckin' tempted ter just do it an' /earn/ that fuckin' name from yer lips."

Jan says, "Then the Dame should not have given her word." She tilts her head "Alright. Well. Dame Fray. The woman dies by your hand or not at all. Not on some bullshit technicality." She sighs and looks to the Woman "At issue is my being complicit in deceit, by rights your life should have been forfeit but when a sworn knight gives their word in this compact? It should mean something and standing by while she pretends having someone else kill you isn't the same as killing you herself is not a farce I will participate in."

The woman has no defense at this point, and thought she was safe from one person at least, and so Fray kills her without any trouble.

Fray looks over to Raymesin, "You're right about not mentioning it, would've been less of a headache to get it over with."

Sira was about to get out of the cart when... Well, Fray breaks her word. Her brows lift in surprise, but quickly she goes back to scowling. With the shake of her head, the woman moves to inspect the goods in the carts.

Jan looks to Sira "Are your wares in fare shape, Mistress?"