It's not long after mid-day. While the forest appears peaceful, many eyes watch from the woods, many ears listen.

"Boss – glad ya found us. I give good directions, eh?" a bush squeaks to a knight in battered-and-drab-looking armor. Or, rather, the bush is a rodent-like Skreek who is wearing a very tattered outfit with bits of foliage sticking out from it in every direction – fresh foliage, by the look of it. (And, unfortunately, well-infested by bugs.)

Another rat squeaks, "That's because I showed him the way, dummy!" He looks to Jarik, then back at the path. "Noggin is watching the path further on. Or listening to it, I mean."

The bush-like rat squeaks, "Anyways, I'm Dummy. Glad ta meet ya, Boss." There's a glint from within the bush. It must be a grin. "And youse already met Scurry."

Jarik tightens one of the plates of the armor down again. "Pleasure to meet you, er, Dummy," he says, "I assume there's trouble ahead? That would account for your… decor." His ears twitch.

The bush grins again. "Yep! The Rathies are at it again. Gonna hit a caravan. But we're gonna save the day, yep? Should be easy pickin's. Of course, NEXT time, they'll probably wise up, so I guess we oughta have fun whiles we can!"

Jarik's ears swivel, "How large is the Rathie group and how well armed? I would prefer to avoid any bloodshed if possible." He looks around the path at the burned wreckage, "And… how much time do we have before they arrive?"

Scurry says, "Bloodshed? No bloodshed?" He looks disappointed. "I think there might be about, oh, five of them. But they're really good archers. Of us, there's just you, me, Dummy, and Noggin. More are coming, but I think we'll probably see some action before they get here."

Dummy-bush grins. "No Rathie is as good at hidin' as me!"

Jarik looks down the path, "Then we either need to fight at sword range to make their archery useless, or find good cover. Are they on mounts?" He thinks a moment, "First, we'll need to encircle them to keep them from fleeing. So, Noggin needs to remain to the rear of them, each of you take a side, and I'll take the front, or point, as it were."

Dummy says, "Ah, there's something ya should know about Noggin. He's blind."

Jarik nods and considers this, "Then we'll have to use a triangle formation. Noggin… have him find a good tree and listen for their arrival and if they're trying to flee. He'd still make a good scout."

Scurry nods. "Good thing the Rathies can't hear Squeaker echo-stuff. Or, at least, most of them can't. If they could, I think we'd see Noggin come flapping back by now."

Jarik nods, "Now, let's take stock of what we have availible. I've got my sword and a small amount of gear; some rope, a bit of lamp oil, etc. What have you two got on hand?"

Scurry says, "I've got a crossbow and enough quarrels to make a pincushion of any Rathie. Er … or to threaten bodily harm, anyway."

Dummy says, "I've got a blowgun, but all it does is make you itch real bad, and it takes a few minutes to do anything. But I can aim real good with it!"

"Oh yeah. And a sticker." Dummy holds up a spear that could easily pass for a branch, except for the barbed tip.

Jarik chuckles, "If your life is in danger, feel free to fight deadly. Hmm… " "Are there any fallen trees nearby?" he inquires.

Scurry nods. The bush just bobs a bit. "Plenty!" they say in chorus.

Jarik says, "Any that we could move and stand up near the road, yet still be obscured?"

The bush and the rat look at each other. "I'm sure we can manage," Scurry ventures. "I'll scout." He dives into the bushes, and only rustling foliage hints at his presence as he scurries about.

Jarik smile, "Excellent. We can set a couple up, so they can be dropped across the road, right behind the Rathies. A bit of lamp oil and leaves, and we have a good fire barrier."

The bush remains with Jarik, and bobs in response to each note. "Yessir! Yessir!"

The bush pauses, then remarks, "Uhm … I don't think I'd want to get too close to the fire, though."

Jarik chuckles, "I agree, we don't need a 'flaming bush' attack. Would you start piling leaves along the edge of the road? Make sure to make them not look TOO conspicuous… "

The bush bobs again, and … blends into the underbrush.

From Jarik's vantage point, he can see some movement, but the two rats (that is, presuming the bush held another rat) are doing a pretty good job at keeping somewhat out of sight, so that at least from a distance, one might not notice the activity. After a bit, they return. "All set!" squeaks the bush.

There's another squeak as well. And then a brownish-greenish bat-winged bundle of rags flutters down to one side of the small group. "Noggin, reporting back, Boss!"

Jarik nods slightly, "What is your report, Noggin? How far are they? How much time do we have?"

Jarik tosses a skin of lampoil to the bush, "Now, be careful and lightly sprinkle the leaves and the two dead trees we're going to use to complete the enclosure… And DON'T get any on yourself."

The bat squeaks! "Oh! My report. Of course. Sorry. Silly me. Well, there's a bunch of wagons coming up the road. And a bunch of Rathies. Uhm … hard to tell. Eight of them? But I think a couple are just there for fun."

The bush nods. "Right-o, Boss!" Rustle-rustle. He's gone.

Jarik says, "Which will get here first?"

The bat squeaks, "The caravan. I hope this doesn't spoil any plans, but the Rathies have moved – They're just up road of us. The caravan will pass us just before it reaches them, unless they move again."

Jarik nods slightly, "Well then. I have an idea. We'll need to stop the caravan before it reaches them. We're going to see if we can borrow a wagon and lure the Rathies back this way to trap them. I just hope the caravan will go along with the idea."

Jarik says, "Or, just a single mount would be fine. I need to get the Rathies back here. Considering the size of their group, we need the trap."

Scurry grins. "Sure! We could tell them they cooperate … or else we LOOT them!"

Jarik says, "Noggin, do you think you could fly to the caravan and convey this to the leader? Tell them there's a ambush ahead and… Sir Fireclaw wishes to help protect them."

Jarik eyes Scurry, "Sorry, no. No looting."

Scurry phoos. "I didn't bring any bags anyway."

The bat salutes a tree next to Jarik, and squeaks, "Right away, Boss!" With that, he flutters into the air, knocking a few leaves free of the branches, and skims over the trees.

After a bit, the bat flutters back. "Uhm. I think I might have impressed them. Maybe. Or maybe they're just humoring me. What do we want to do with the mount, Boss?"

Jarik pulls his cloak around his body, obscuring the armor and sword, "I'm going to ride it just up to the edge of the ambush site, and try to get them to chase me back here."

The bat nods. "I'll see what I can do." He's off again, this time snapping off one of the branches and squeaking, "OUCH!" He bounces off a couple more branches, then wings out of sight.

Time passes. Scurry peeks over some bushes, then squeaks, "Aha! Wow! How'd he do that? Noggin's got a Dromodon! But … he's just standing there with it." Scurry points down to the path, where the bat is standing around, holding a Dromodon by a rein, and patting it and probably whispering things to it.

Jarik pulls his hood up, "There, now, I just hope this armor can stop arrows." He turns to look down the path at Noggin. The fox almost waves at Noggin, then he remembers that he's blind, so he walks toward Noggin instead, "Good job."

Noggin jumps, as he was facing the Dromodon. "Oh! You, Boss. Whew! Here you go." He hands the reins to a point just to Jarik's right.

Noggin says, "I'll get into position. I brought my crossbow! I'm all set."

Jarik takes the reins, "Tell the others once the Rathies are within the trees and leaves setup, to cut and drop them, blocking their escape, would you? I'll handle trying to get them here… "

Jarik pats the Dromodon's neck and tries to climb onto its back…

The Dromodon is a bit nervous, and certainly not a warbeast, but it's strong enough to hold Jarik and his armor (which, incidentally, is remarkably light for its bulk).

The bat nods. "Will do, Boss!"

Jarik pats the Dromodon, "All right my friend, all you've got to do is run when needed. Now, let's go." He nudges the creature forward like he would for the mounts he has had in the past. { Hm, lighter than my old steel suit. The weight always kept me from wearing it often; this isn't bad.} O o . he thinks.

The bat flutters off, and the Dromodon clip-clops forward, snorting and snuffling. This beast seems to be on its last legs – which is probably why it wasn't quite so hard for the bat to arrange to borrow it.

Jarik continues to pat the Dromodon, trying to keep it calm. He lets it slowly approach the site where Noggin said the Rathies were waiting…

The Dromodon reaches the spot where the ambush site should be. Indeed, it DOES look like a good ambush site … though a few broken arrows protruding from trees hint to the alert that this is a dangerous area. But then, considering this is the only caravan route through this mountain pass, one hasn't many options but to continue on through and hope for the best.

The pickings may be easy … but the caravans still continue. After all, many wagons take this route, and only a small percentage fall prey to the bandits. And of those, news doesn't get out much. (The authorities wouldn't want to discourage commerce.)

Jarik pulls the reins gently to get the Dromodon to stop. He tugs the reins to the left, trying to get the beast to turn perpendicular to the path.

It's quiet. Very quiet. The songbirds in the trees can only be heard from a distance, and the insects quiet down.

Jarik looks down the path. o O { Steady, knight… } He calls out, "There is little point in hiding. We know you are there. If you want the goods of the caravan, you must come for them." He pulls the cloak tighter around his body. o O { I hope this works… }

*zing* An arrow zips by. *ZING ZING* The Dromodon snorts loudly. It seemed to be in danger of dozing off just a moment ago, but now it's a few clicks shy of panic.

Jarik calls out again, "We have more than enough supplies to outwait you. So, if you want us, come and get us… " The fox then tugs the Dromodon to turn back toward the way they came. He then nudges it hard, trying to get it to run. { Time to be going… No fox-kebobs tonight, thank you. }

The Dromodon takes little urging. With a frightened bellow, it takes off at a wild gallop. An arrow bounces off of the stick bony plate extending from its skull, and one sticks into Jarik's back … or, rather, it hits the armor and gets stuck in the folds of his tattered but thick cloak.

Jarik hangs on to the creature. o O { Okay, here goes nothing… *Whew* it may not be elegant, but it works. I'm not bleeding. } He waits until the Dromodon reaches just past the leaf and tree trap, and pulls to get it to stop…

The Dromodon, unfortunately, seems to have no intention of stopping. It bellows, still frightened.

"Boss! BOSS! Hey!" squeaks a voice from a tree. Probably Scurry.

Jarik ergs, and pulls his legs up under himself, trying to keep balance. { Okay… Now! } He propels himself off the creatures back and a bit behind it. Cloth billows around him as he tries to keep himself positioned to land on his feet. *THUD* He hits the ground hard, the impact travelling up his legs. Wincing, he turns to face back down the path, hoping that they followed him.

Nothing can be seen coming straight down the trail, except … wait! There they are, bursting out of the bushes. They must have been going along the sides of the road, but came out now that they're within sight – and bow-range – of their quarry. They rush past the "barricade point", whooping. A few arrows zing by, closing in on the Dromodon.

The Dromodon, having stumbled and slowed a bit upon loss of its rider, now stumbles again as a couple arrows bury themselves into its thick hide. It runs on, however, the arrows apparently not going in deep enough to do any immediately crippling damage. At least, not enough to overcome the Dromodon's adrenaline and fear.

Jarik whistles loudly, "Now!" He moves to the edge of the path, and draws his sword. { All right Fireclaw, let's live up to your namesake. } He ignites the sword into a firey blue and swings it down to contact the leaf piles along the side of the road, lighting them ablaze. He quickly moves to the other side, and ignites it as well. Finally, he moves to the center of the path and looks to locate the bandits.

The bandits, formerly taking up positions to turn Jarik (and the Dromodon) into pincushions, now look quite a bit surprised and disorganized – especially at the appearance of fire, the collapsing of the barricade, and the magical display.

Two of the raccoons immediately drop their weapons and dash into the woods, shrieking. The remaining six cast aside their bows, and switch to hand-to-hand weapons – various scavenged polearms and swords in bad repair.

*ZING!* A bolt flies by, fired from the trees. *WHIP!* Something else breezes by. One of the raccoons slaps at his neck, as if stung by a bloodfly.

Jarik smiles, "Allow me to introduce myself, I am Sir Fireclaw, Knight… Knight of the Azure Flame." He holds his sword up in front of himself, the flame casting an eerie glow on his body, "Surrender, or face the consequences."

A couple of the raccoons yipe … and start scratching furiously at their bodies, dropping their weapons. Perhaps that "itching" effect doesn't take quite so long after all. The others look to be not quite so eager to charge Jarik … except for one who glowers at the others, then shrieks and charges in, polearm bearing on the fox.

Jarik prepares himself for a fight. o O { Not likely that they'll surrender, so… }

Two more of the raccoons, temporarily emboldened by the first one's charge, head in as well – one carrying a big sword (the tip chipped off), and the other swinging an evidently home-made flail, with a big spiked ball at the end.

Jarik's legs tense and prepare to shift him to the side. He waits for the pole- armed raccon to get close enough that he can't change direction easily and sidesteps, using the sword to glance the polearm away from his body… If he succeeds, a simple followup cut to the waist should end this one's fight quickly. Then he can see to the other two…

The first raccoon lets out a "GRK!" as he spills to the ground, clutching at his gut. The other two lose a bit of their pace upon seeing how quickly their leader went down … but they still come. The one with the sword closes first, swinging wildly.

Jarik grips his swordhilt lightly. o O { Let's see how he fights without his hand… } "Scurry! Take the other one down, please!" He tenses a bit, and tries to dodge the wild swings, while waiting for a change to 'disarm' him. His ears swivel wildly, trying to track both attackers at once.

In the background, a bush has started pummelling a few hapless raccoons who alternate between trying to fight back … and scratching themselves all over. Scurry charges in, trying to smash the flailer from behind … but his weapon tangles in the makeshift flail. Still, it has the effect of leaving the remaining raccoon weaponless.

The "sword-swinger" raccoon, meanwhile, is screaming like a banshee, clutching at his wrist.

Jarik screams out, "Now surrender! This is your last chance. No more quarter will be offered!" He backs up a bit and prepares to fight to the death.

Scurry proceeds to pummel at the formerly-flail-carrying raccoon, using a big stick. A few whacks do the trick. The remaining raccoons – the ones who haven't fled – look thoroughly routed.

Down the trail, the sounds of rolling wagons and clip-clopping Dromodons can be heard. There are some hoots and shouts from that direction.

Jarik's ears rotate to face the path behind him as best they can – Are they under attack?

Scurry stands triumphantly, one clawed foot propped up on a battered-senseless raccoon. "Victory is ours!"

The hoots and shouts seem to be coming from the approaching caravan – the riders of which now have a good view of the rout of the raccoon raiders.

The former sword-swinger squeals, "We surrender! WE SURRENDER!"

Jarik lowers his sword a bit, "Good. If you had simply done that… beforehand … there wouldn't have been any bloodshed." He points at the former sword-wielder, "You. Come here."

The former sword-wielder, still clutching at his arm (now swathed in his jerkin, which has been used to make a makeshift bandage), cringes. "We surrender!" he squeals again, looking quite pathetic.

Jarik tries not to wince. He hates hurting people like that, but… "I want you to deliver a message for me. Will you do so?"

The raccoon squeals, "Yes! Yes! Anything! Just don't kill me! Please, please, please! I have a wife and kids! Twelve of them!"

Jarik raises an eyebrow, "That wound will serve as a reminder of how many people YOU have harmed in your lifetime. The message is simple. Tell your comrades that this area is now under the protection of Sir Jarik Fireclaw, late of Crydon and Knight of the Azure Flame. ANY attack on travellers or locals will be returned to them with deadly force. And if I EVER encounter you again trying to attack anyone, I will hunt you down. Do I make myself clear?"

The 'caravan', it turns out, only consists of two wagons. Not exactly an impressive target. But then, not too many bandits showed up to try to take it, either. The lead wagon rolls up, a Cervani stag holding the reins of the two-dromodon team. He listens in on the speech, and watches the cowering raccoons with undisguised pleasure.

The raccoon whines, "Yesyesyes! Perfectly clear! I hear and obey!"

Jarik says, "Now. GO! And don't look back."

The raccoon, without further urging, dashes off, crashing into the undergrowth, bypassing the burning barricade.

A bush trundles up. "What do we do with the others, boss? Not counting Stumpy and … er … HIM – " He gestures to the former leader. " – we got four all trussed up."

Noggin flutters down onto the trail. "Did I hit anything?"

Scurry lies, "Yeah! You took down TWO of them! With one shot, even! Good shooting! You're amazing!"

The bat poses proudly.

Jarik turns to the caravan, "You'll need to wait a bit and let the fire die down. But, the road ahead should be clear now." He looks for the Dromodon he was riding, "I hope your beast was not badly hurt." The fox turns to the bush, "I think we'll hand them over to the caravan to take back to the city and turn them in. But… beforehand, remove what valuables they might have. We can use it to purchase supplies to protect the people in this area. After all, it probably belongs to the people here."

Jarik grins at the bat, "You were superb, Noggin. A true archer. Couldn't have done it without you." He pats the bat on his head.

The Cervani nods. "That ol' thickhide is fine. Not that it'll last much longer anyway. Funny thing. Their hide gets tougher as they get older, but just about the time they're about invulnerable to arrows … they go and kick off. Pity, eh? Any road, I'm much obliged to you. Sir … Fireclaw, you say?"

Jarik nods and bows, "Sir Jarik Fireclaw, at your service."

The Cervani bows his rack to the fox. "I'll remember that! I suppose we ought to show some sign of our appreciation… " He trails off. He doesn't exactly look like Mister Moneybags. He looks about, as if searching for inspiration.

Jarik shakes his head slightly, "A bit of food, if you can spare it. I am not doing this for rewards. Just for the honor of helping."

A Cervani doe, probably the wagoneer's daughter (or some relative), looks dreamily at the fox. "Ohhh. SIR Jarik Fireclaw? Is he a prince?"

The older Cervani ignores the doe, and smiles, nodding. "That I can certainly manage! Hmm. If you'd like to ride along, we'd be more than happy to fix up a hearty meal for you when we set up camp for the night."

Jarik looks at the sky, "We could accompany you for a bit. But, just 'til evening, I'm afraid" He looks at Noggin and the bush and Scurry, "Shall we?"

Scurry licks his chops. "I'm in! Do we just leave the bandits here?"

Jarik says, "No… "

The bush looks despondent. Or, that is, as despondent as a bush can look. "Baw. They don't have even a SHEKEL on them! They must be incompetent bandits."

Jarik looks back at the Cervani, "Think you can take some bandits to the town you're heading to?"

The Cervani grins. "I'm sure we can manage. They might even have a bounty, too. Not that anybody ever collects."

Jarik smiles at the younger Cervani, "No, not a prince. Just someone trying to help."

The doe smiles. "I think that's positively wonderful!" She sighs.

Jarik nods, "Okay then. Let's load up the bandits and move on." He looks back at the fire which should be dying out by now…

The fire has burned itself out, and, with a bit of trampling encouragement from Scurry, is nothing but ashes and smoke – just another burnt spot in a part of the trail already plenty scorched from some previous battle.

Jarik puts his sword away after letting the energy dissapate. He goes to help Dummy and Scurry load the bandits into one of the wagons…

The bandits provide very little trouble, and are soon loaded into the wagons. Surely these aren't the most formidable opponents that this wilderness has to offer.

"Onward, then!" the Cervani says cheerily, and climbs back up into the wagon. "All aboard!"

The bat flutters onto the top of one of the wagons, while a bush and a rat clamber onto the back of the second wagon. They seem to have procured some munchies – Perhaps the bandits weren't ENTIRELY empty-handed.

Jarik hops onto the closest wagon and prepares for a ride until dusk. { Not too bad. I think this crew will work out nicely. Not to mention, the little bat has heart. }

The wagons roll along, leaving the scene of brief violence behind them, toward the distant mountains, bearing a group of fugitives-turned-vigilantes and the "spoils" of their first blow against the nigh-anarchy that has reigned so long in these parts. Tales will be told, to be sure …