Somewhere in the fringes of the territories of Himar, in an until-recently abandoned mountain guard post, a rag-tag team of former prisoners-of-the-state (mostly composed of Skreeks) huddles around in a stone room equipped with furniture fashioned mostly from barrels and scrap wood.

As their leader enters the chamber, the group lifts mugs of (very cheap) ale in a salute, and cheer, "Hail Sir Fireclaw!" They've been practicing on that. They can almost do it in unison now.

The fox almost jumps, he's still not used to that. It's nice that they try though. Jarik glances around the quickly furnished room, "How does the reclamation of the lower halls progress? As I mentioned earlier, we have a water source down there, but we need to stabilize the hallways and clear the fallen stones."

A wolf sits in the corner, looking very glum. He scrapes greenish goo which stubbornly clings to his fur. "Ghosts still ahead. Trog no win yet."

A brief moment of silence is abruptly broken by a shrill "SKREEEEE!" sound, then a *thump*. More silence. *rapraprap* "LEMME IN!"

Jarik begins to refute the ghost argument again… The sudden sounds capture the attention of his ears and he tries to locate the source.

It's the front door. One of the Skreeks belatedly opens the door … which results in a blind bat falling in, in mid-knock. "AIeeeee!" *thump*

The bat dusts himself off, then stands, making a sloppy salute to … a nearby barrel. "Noggin reporting, sir! I have news from the front!"

Jarik blinks, "News?" The fox finds a seat on a barrel, "What's the news, Noggin?"

Noggin gasps, then turns from the barrel, facing a rat right next to Jarik. At least he's closer this time. "It's the Bolt-Skull Gang. You know, one of the few competent – er – worthy opponents we have. They're getting REALLY bold – even to the point of bragging. They're going to take down an airship TODAY! In broad daylight!"

Jarik's ears perk, "An airship? How and where do they plan to do that? Tell me all you know, Noggin… "

Noggin coughs, then says, "The Bolt-Skull Gang, eh, they have a few Vartans in their number. I hear tell they're going to take down an airship passing this way, by letting out some of the gas, then attacking it once it hits the ground. Pretty bold, huh, sir?"

A pair of Skreeks off to the side play a game of cards, oblivious to the bat's entrance. "Got any three of shells?" "Gin." "We're not playing gin, stupid!" "Oh… er… BINGO!"

Jarik winces, "And stupid. They're just as likely to cause the bag to detonate as to drain it." He shudders at a memory, "Well, I believe we have a job, today." The fox stands, "Everyone, attention!"

Noggin whaps himself in the forehead as he salutes again, then moans from the pain. Trog slaps a few Skreeks to get their attention, then grabs his mallet and stands as well.

The card playing rats quickly stand, making sure to spy at one another's cards as they do so.

One of the Skreeks stands, and drops his sword. He stoops to pick it up and his hat falls from his head. As he reaches for his hat he drops his sword again.

Jarik pats Noggin's head, "We have a task at hand. Noggin has informed us of an impending attack on an airship by the Bolt-Skull Gang. It's up to us to stop it, of course." He smiles, "Quickly, grab your gear." He looks to the three Skreeks who playing cards, "You three go get some rope and nets if we have them. Plus a few crossbows and ammo, please."

"Yes sir!" "Right-o!" "At once, your Highness!" "Yes, your Worship!" "Yeehaa!" "AHA! ME SMASH HEADS!" "ROWR!"

The rats rush off, sending a flurry of cards in their wake. Funny, they don't usually have six aces in them.

Noggin says, "Off to the Ambush Site! I know the way by heart, sir! FOLLOW MEEEEEE!" *THUNK* "Oops. Ahem. Forgot to open the door."

Jarik puts his hand on Noggin's shoulder, "Just a second… "

Jarik says, "How many of the Gang will be attacking?"

Noggin stops and considers. "All of them!" he answers.

Noggin whispers, "I'm not very good at counting them from a distance, you know."

Jarik nods slightly, "Well then, lead us to a good place to view the site from. We'll see when we get there."

An albino Skreek runs into the room with an arm-load of arrows. Behind him a voice yells, "Hey Karli! didn't your mother ever teach you not to run with those things!?!?".

Noggin says, "That's good, because I won't!" With that, he laughs, and flaps out the door. Several of Jarik's "troops", gear only half-on, scramble out the door after the bat.

Jarik heads out after the bat. o O { It's a miracle we haven't all been killed yet… }

Some time later, requiring a few pauses to figure out a way to get the bat's attention to let him know that he lost all his non-flying companions, the group manages to reach a rocky precipice overlooking a spot that isn't such a popular ambush spot, since it's not on the caravan route … but, sure enough, some scouting reveals that there are indeed quite a mass of brigands hiding in the trees. And, there's an approaching airship visible, coming just this way. The storms in this area tend to at times narrow one's choice for airborne travel routes greatly – or prevent air travel entirely.

"WOW! WHAT A VI-*MMMMmmmpgmph*" a rat exclaims loudly before three of his friends pounce on him and grab his muzzle.

Jarik hms, "This isn't as simple as I'd hoped." He looks to his crew, "We may be outnumbered. What have we brought with us?"

One of the Skreeks says, "A hock of ham, a basket full of bread, I've got my good cutting knife, a hunk of cheese … Hey, you got the kegs? I think we're all set."

"I've got my lucky yiffle's foot," another Skreek says.

Another Skreek laughs. "It didn't do the YIFFLE any good!"

Jarik sighs inwardly, "This isn't a picnic. We've got halt a rather nasty ambush… Okay. I need anyone who's good with a crossbow to step forward."

Noggin steps forward. "Ready to wreak havoc, sir!"

One of the Skreeks says, "STOP the ambush? We're going to actually STOP the Skull-Bolts? You've gotta be … uh … well … uhm … This is just a joke, right?"

"I thought we were just gonna watch. I ain't seen an airship go down in ages," another Skreek pitches in.

"This is no joke," Jarik says coldly.

From the tree-line beyond, several winged shapes launch from the branches, shooting upward toward the sky … spreading out and arcing toward the approaching airship.

Jarik looks, "Okay! Those with crossbows, aim for the Vartans' wings!"

One of the halfway-competent-looking Skreeks says, "Uhm … Sir … We don't have that kind of range." Nonetheless, several arrows and bolts zip off into the air.

Jarik hms, "Okay, stop shooting."

Jarik says, "I've got a better plan. We're going to let them bring the ship down. While they're busy bringing it down, we'll split up and try to surround them."

Noggin says, "Did I hit anything? Did I?" He looks fairly excited.

Scurry salutes Jarik. Or, that is, a bush that salutes Jarik is quite probably Scurry, or perhaps he's amongst the others nearby. "We'll move out and take positions right away, sir!"

"You killed my favorite sweetberry tree, Noggin… *sniff*" a Skreek says mournfully.

Noggin frowns. "Oh. Well … ah … This means the bandits won't take it, eh?"

Jarik says, "Any idea what is on this ship, Noggin?""

Noggin shrugs. "Uhm … The usual. Stuff that bandits like to steal and sell off, you know? Well, I DID hear them bragging about how the merchant captain is this really beautiful vixen, and how … well … Ah, these thugs are just NOT very polite, you know."

Jarik says, "Okay, I want everyone to stay under cover. Use crossbows and bows for as long as you can. I want a staggered pattern encircling the site where the ship will land. We need to wait until most of the Brigands are gathering ready to board. We need to fight intelligently here."

Jarik blinks at Noggin, "Have these people no shame?"

Two Skreeks fight over a bush costume. "You got to be the bush last time! I'm sick of being a rock."

Jarik glares at the two fighting Skreeks.

In the air, it is evident that the fighting has commenced. The Vartans have swept in, attacking the envelope with their claws. To the credit of the defenders, at least two of the Vartans plummet downward, probably riddled with arrows. But as the Vartans retreat from the ship, it is slowly evident that the ship is not likely to make it very far – certainly not over the mountains.

Jarik says, "Those who are good with crossbows, try to take out the brigands hiding in the trees silently. Go for the ones who are isolated… "

Jarik looks at the airship. o O { Okay, where are you going to land… ? }

The ship's descent is painfully slow … but at last, as it gets closer to the ground, it's easier to tell where it's going to go … and not very far from this point, either. Already, ranged attacks can be seen being exchanged between the defenders on the ship and forces on the ground, amongst the trees.

"Ohhh… those raiders are doing a pretty good job. I hope that sexy vixen doesn't get too many arrows in her… I'd like to get a thank-you kiss from her." A Skreek with jet black fur remarks.

Several squeaks can be heard, as some of the "war-bushes" join into the fray. There's also a *clack* and a *sprang*, as … a catapult unloads its ammunition somewhere amongst the trees. (Hopefully it hit the OTHER side. At least it only gets used once in any given battle.)

Jarik looks around, "Well, you know the plan, let's put it into action shall we? Noggin, you stay near me. Scurry, you take a few of the good bow-Skreeks and try to pick off the some of the brigands in the trees. The rest of you… Grab some nets, and position yourselves in the trees over there." He points toward the site where it looks like the ship will land, "We're going to try and capture as many as we can. That way the odds will be more even." The fox eyes the black Skreek a moment, "By the way, shoot to kill. We can't have raiders becoming this bold. Not in MY territory."

"DEATH TO ALL WHO OPPOSE THE CAUSE!!!" shrieks one of the 'bushes' as he leaps after a bandit.

A few bandits – a mix of Rath'anis, Skreeks, Kavis, Khattas, and some other races in smaller representation (The Vartans are occupied elsewhere) rush into the clearing. Apparently Jarik's group's presence has been noticed.

As the fighters square off into melee, a small group rushes Jarik – A hungry-looking tiger-striped Khatta, a white Skeek (Yes, a mouse!) with a wicked-looking knife, and a burly Rhian swinging a spiked mace around.

Jarik draws his sword, "Well, I think I'll take out a few bandits before getting to the landing site it seems." He grins coldly and ignites his sword, "This is my territory, have you not been warned the Knight of the Azure Flame protects traders in these parts?" He moves backwards slowly, trying to keep the bandits in front.

Another Skeek can be seen chasing one of the rats across the clearing. Moments later the same mouse darts in the other direction, with ten rats on his tail… all swinging large swords.

Jarik snarls and charges the Rhian, bringing his sword up for what looks like a downward slash… Moments before he reaches blade range he drops low and lets himself slide on his armored knee while sweeping the sword down and sideways toward the Rhian's legs.

The fox's execution is almost flawless … except that as he lands on his knee, he slips. He cuts nothing but air. And now … it's the turn of his three new 'friends'.

The Khatta, armed only with his sharp claws, slashes out at Jarik, but has a look of surprise as his claws cut through the tattered cloak, scraping against armor underneath, having no effect whatsoever on the fox warrior. The horse's mace slams into the earth nearby, knocking a few chunks of earth into the air. Of the three, only the mouse appears to have any success … and it comes in the form of slipping that wicked dagger right between the cracks of Jarik's armor, prompting a very sharp pain in his arm. The mouse, who would be sickeningly cute by most standards, grins gleefully.

Jarik grabs the mouse's arm and snarls painfully, "Bad move." He pulls his blade up and tries to pull the mouse onto the blade…

Trying to grab the mouse is like chasing after the wind. Just when it seems the fox had a hold of him … he doesn't.

At least the mouse, in the process, retreats a few steps to be clear of the fox. He grins wickedly, as his comrades prepare to strike again … which comes in the form of the horse's flanged mace slamming into Jarik's side and knocking him wildly. Pain shoots through his body. The Khatta, meanwhile, doesn't make his move … as he's staying clear of the horse's wild swing.

Jarik pushes himself back to his feet, wincing. o O { You're losing, Jarik. Come on, you can take them… Get rid of the horse… } He can feel his arm stiffening slightly from the knife wound and each breath makes his side burn. The fox whips his sword to try and deflect the mace away from the horse long enough to come back in with a thrust to the horse's chest.

The fox's all-out thrust proves to be most effective – even overkill, since the horse's own all-out swing left himself exposed as he tries to recover from the momentum of the swing. The horse hasn't a chance to even parry. He lets out a bellow as the mace slips from his fingers and he crumples to the ground.

That pesky little mouse darts in with the wicked blade again, scoring another poke between the gaps of Jarik's armor. However, it's more like a pinprick – an annoyance – and does no real damage, other than a furtherance of pain. The Khatta, meanwhile, joins in … While he's weaponless, he still takes advantage of Jarik's exposed position from the thrust (and how his sword is currently imbedded in the horse) to grapple the fox.

Jarik releases his grip on his sword and extends his claws. The fox tries to slash across the Khatta's face with the claws. o O { Claw to claw, eh? }

A black runs across the clearing with a Jupani running on all fours after him, snapping at his backside.

Jarik's movement catches the Khatta entirely by surprise, bypassing the grappler's defenses perfectly. However … the claws rake through his fur but do no damage whatsoever. The Khatta grins. His claws are MUCH sharper. He tries to prove this by clawing at Jarik's face, though he can't quite reach just yet. The mouse does not make his attack, looking as if he is deep in concentration, preparing for a special attack of some sort.

Jarik grabs his sword hilt and tries to pull it free and slash at the Khatta. o O { Okay, stick to blades. At least he let go. Good. }

The fox's attack would normally give him the advantage. He has the sword, he has the armor, his attacker is unarmed. However, his attacker is all over him, and it's a bit hard to whack about with a sword in such quarters. Still, the Khatta doesn't make any progress, and the mouse frowns, as his comrade's methods are apparently thwarting his chances of finding an opening.

One of the killer bushes pounces on a Kavi! Fighting noises ensue.

Jarik moves his sword to his injured arm and tries to punch the Khatta on top of the mouse and away from him. Hopefully he'll improve the fighting room a bit…

The fox's maneuver pays off – not quite so dramatically as using the Khatta as a projectile against the mouse (Khattas don't make that good of a projectile, nor mice such good targets), but at least Jarik pulls free, while the Khatta stumbles back. The mouse makes a half-hearted dart with his knife, but misses, and jumps back.

Jarik moves the sword back to his good arm and decides to target the mouse and his obnoxious dagger. He makes a feint to strike to the mouse's left side and instead sweeps the blade in an diagonal slash.

The feint really has no bearing at all, especially since the mouse hasn't a hope of parrying with that wicked (but little) dagger of his. Despite an attempt to leap out of the way, it's all over for the little mouse with one arc of the blade. His dying words dissolve into a spine-tingling shriek. The remaining Khatta … unarmed, with no buddies nearby to help … turns tail and begins to run.

Jarik runs after the Khatta and tries to leap on his back…

The fox hasn't an icicle's chance in the Himaat of catching up with the fleeing Khatta, in his wounded condition, and since the Khatta is unencumbered by either armor OR weapon (and a sprinter to boot). A quick look around reveals that while Jarik's forces are taking severe casualties, the bandits have far less heart to take any losses amongst their own. The tide is turning – against the ones who deigned to be so bold as to take down an airship in broad daylight.

Jarik stops pursuing the Khatta and tries to locate the airship… Did it land? He also takes a moment to look for Noggin and the other members of his group that were with him.

Unfortunately, the battle has taken its toll. Eeees are not particularly hardy creatures. The bat's broken form lies nearby, and it's too late to get so much as a dying last request speech from him. Several Skreeks have given their all for the cause as well. Some probably have fled, but the number that are still in the fray give a good account for what rats can do when properly motivated.

The airship's envelope is visible just above the trees. It has not entirely deflated, but it doesn't take all that much to greatly reduce an airship's lifting capacity. It isn't likely to be taking off again without serious aid – and repair.

Jarik kneels beside Noggin and lays his tattered cloak over the bat's broken body. The fox snarls and stands. He heads toward the descending airship. And have mercy on anyone who tries to get in his way.

Already, some of the Skreeks are making somewhat premature exclamations of victory. A few severe cuts from the semi-retreating bandits force them back into a serious mood, however. But where Jarik arrives, the tide is clearly in the favor of his forces – The bandits haven't the heart to pay this dearly for a cargo, and then face an armored fox with a glowing sword as well!

At least one, however, seems determined to put up a fight. Of all races to be found in this crew … It's a poodle! He gives Jarik a sly-looking, smug grin, and, after running a "bush" Skreek through with his rapier, turns the blade to face the fox. "Well, well! Sir Knight of the Azure Blade, I presume? Prepare to taste the STEEL of the Emerald Bandit!" A presumptuous name, but he IS dressed all in green.

Jarik snarls and points his sword's tip toward the poodle, "Indeed, I am the Knight of the Azure Flame, No quarter will be asked or given. My fallen comrades deserve to be avenged." With the uttering of the last word, Jarik strikes. The blade arcs through the air, carefully controlled to avoid leaving himself too open, toward the poodle.

The fox's attack is true and swift … but the poodle's rapier meets the blade, and he comes about with a dagger to finish the parry while leaving his blade free. "Indeed! But I have some avenging of my own to do. You've caused a lot of trouble, knight."

The poodle's reposte is well-aimed as well … but the fox needn't even think in order to meet the blade with his own. A clash of steel against steel, amidst all the cracking weapons of chitin to be found here.

Jarik snarls, "The bandits were warned traders were under my protection. It was their choice. And trouble? It's my life's blood to cause trouble with the evil creatures such as yourself." He spins his sword in a circular motion, trying to push the rapier off of it and then come in with a slash to the creature's hand holding the gauche.

The fox's blade pulls free, and his attack ALMOST hits the poodle's wrist … but the smaller fighter is evidently competent in his swordsmanship, and succeeds in parrying the blow again. He steps nimbly to the side, and thrusts in with the rapier, but it is not QUITE fast enough, parried by the fox, sending sparks flying. "Evil? Tut tut. You needn't take this PERSONALLY."

Jarik's ears flatten, "My comrades' lives mean a lot to me. I take what happens to them, very personally. It's part of being a knight and a paladin." He makes a quick thrust to the poodle's left side.

The fox's blow is parried, despite the speed of his thrust. The poodle comes in with a not-so-well-aimed attack, but in the attempt to react, the fox's insides scream in pain in remembrance of the blow dealt him by the horse. He is not struck by the sword, but he can tell he's weakening quickly. He won't be able to hold up this detente for much longer. "Really?" grins the poodle. "Well, well. That's quite touching. I couldn't really care less about mine. But they don't care, so long as they get a good share of gold … and the occasional pretty face that comes along in the caravan." He winks raucously.

Jarik winces, snarls and drops to his knee, making a hard slash at the poodles legs. "Defiling a lady as well. Have you no shame?" { Come on, Jarik, end this. Or you're going to end up a fox-kabob. }

The poodle sneers, responding, "Defiling? More so, I'm doing her a fav – URK!" His eyes go wide as the fox's gambit pays off, the slash taking him down to the ground. His legs, after all, are unarmored, and no match for a blazing sword. The jolt from the drop burns Jarik's insides as well, but he's now certainly got the upper hand.

Jarik winces, o O { Ow, I think a rib may be broken. } He pushes the poodle to the side and tries to kick his weapons away from him…

The poodle hasn't the endurance to put up a fight after that last attack. In fact, he's probably not going to last for much longer. He lets out a weak giggle. "Touche," he says. "My, that was rollicking fun while it lasted!" His eyes roll back, and he collapses to the ground, the blood staining his lacy garments.

The rest of the bandits are in full rout now. It's simply a matter of tending to the wounded and dying, for the most part.

Jarik sheaths his sword. Weakly he picks up the rapier and gauche. He takes a few breaths and looks around the battlefield. { How many did I lose? } he wonders… { Was it worth it? }

The victory is Pyrrhic at best. There are more fallen than standing. But at least one of the largest bandit groups in this region has been weakened, if not utterly destroyed.

Jarik tries to stand, "So, is this the end?" His voice is tinged with sadness. The fox looks toward the ship and waves to them. "It's over." he manages to shout.

There's some rustling in the bushes behind Jarik, one of the bushes that isn't a rat.

Jarik turns to look at the bush, "Come out, please."

A few Skreeks, some standing, make victory cheers – more a resigned, "Thank the First Ones it's over" sort of cheer than anything else.

Very slowly, a form rises from the bush. Neither poodle, nor Skreek, nor Jupani… but vulpine. A vixen with sandy blonde fur stands shakily, she pauses to look at the form of the dead poodle. "I-… is he dead?" She softly murmurs, her voice quivering.

Jarik nods slightly, "He's dead. Many the afterlife grant him mercy I could not." He manages a smile, "Greetings, M'lady. Sir Jarik Fireclaw, Knight of the Azure Flame. At your service." He manages a painful bow.

The vixen wrenches her face away from the poodle. "Oh… how horrible. But he deserved it. I-… I was taken prisoner. They wanted to hold me for ransom." She brushes leaves from the hem of her forest green tunic. "I owe you… my life." She breathes the last words very softly.

Some wolves on the airship make some loud exchanges with some of the Skreeks down below, though the content of the conversation can't be picked out at this distance.

The vixen stands as if in shock, looking at the carnage around her.

Jarik moves closer to the vixen, "May I ask your name, M'lady? And, are you injured?"

"Oh… my name… yes. I'm sorry… it's just that so much has happened." She pauses, and takes a deep breath. "My name is Vandice. I-… I am from Rephidim."

A bloodied wolf staggers toward Jarik, dragging his spiked club. "Trog smash many heads," he growls, then slumps down to one knee, panting heavily.

Jarik looks to Trog, "How many did we lose?"

The wolf doesn't meet Jarik's gaze, and doesn't answer, but only breathes heavily.

Vandice gasps at the sight of the wolf, taking a frightened step backwards. "How horrible." She covers her face.

Jarik looks back to the vixen, "You're a long way from home, Lady Vandice. You're welcome to be our guest until you can find a way to continue your journey, if you like." He thinks a moment, "I would like to hear what has transpired in Rephidim since my absence… "

Jarik waves at one of the Skreeks, hoping to get him to come over.

A Skreek that has been spared much damage (save for some scratches and shaved fur) scampers up to Jarik, grinning widely. "We did it! Did it! VICTORY!"

Jarik nods slightly, "Everyone did great. How many did we lose? How many were injured?" He looks at the vixen, "We should probably take who we can back to our home to rest and prepare a funeral for tonight."

Vandice staggers on her digitigrade feet. "Thank you, Sir Jarik. Although I am a bit behind on news of Rephidim… and I don't know how long I have remained a prisoner of these… brigands." She shoots a glare at the poodle.

Jarik offers his hand to Vandice, "We've got a place that isn't too far from here that you can rest if you wish?"

The Skreek looks around. "Uhm … Well … Look on the bright side! We won't have to split up the grog so many ways." He fidgets. "Ahem. Ah … we have fewer people to do the burying than we have to be buried, sir."

Jarik's ears droop, "More than half. I figured. All of them deserve an honorable funeral." He hands the rapier and gauche to the Skreek, "We could either keep these or sell them. We'll decide later. Please hold on to them."

The vixen gently accepts the proffered hand, and then stumbles and bumps against the knight. "Oh! I'm very sorry, I've just… seen far too much blood than what a lady should." she wipes a tear from her eye.

The Skreek literally drools upon being entrusted with the rare, metal weapons. "Yes, sir!" he squeaks. He scampers off, toward where several of the others have gathered together.

Jarik kisses the back of her hand, "Fear not, M'lady. The battle is over. Would you like to leave now? I'll have to return to help here, but I'm sure Trog would guard you back home."

Vandice's tail bristles just a bit. "I would feel safer with you, noble knight. Although the stench of blood here is horrible, I ought to leave."

Jarik hmms, and waves to the Skreek again to come back over.

"Do you know… how I might be able to return to Rephidim?" the vixen asks as she runs a shaking hand through her jet black hair.

The Skreek is a fair distance away now, gleefully showing off the shiny weapons to the other survivors. He's definitely out of waving range, and on the fringe of shouting range, too.

Jarik says, "I'm not sure. Possibly on this Airship. I'll need to speak with the captain. There's also the possibility of me returning to Rephidim for a short time. I could escort you. I need to check on some friends and close up some old wounds there. "

The vixen's claim might have some merit. Trog, for all his muscle, looks like he's taken quite a beating, and it'll likely be a while before he's eager to make the long climb back to the stronghold.

Jarik shouts to the Skreeks, "Come here! Please."

Vandice brightens, "Oh! I would be ever so pleased if you could escort me. I'll shall do my best to repay you for this noble gesture, most kindest knight."

Jarik smiles at Vandice, "No payment is necessary, Lady Vandice."

Perhaps it IS beyond shouting range to the Skreeks. They're still clustered together over yonder, and show no evidence of responding to Jarik's call just yet.

Jarik smiles, "Come with me, Lady Vandice… " He starts to walk toward the Skreeks.

The vixen clings tightly to the knight's arm as they walk. "Perhaps I can aide you when you return to Rephidim," she says. "I have many friends. But we can talk about that later… I fear that the battle has made a mess of my nerves."

Only once Jarik approaches, do the handful of Skreeks – six of them – acknowledge his presence, and they do so with shouts of "Viiiiictory!" They wave about weapons, most of them procured from their fallen foes.

Jarik nods gently to Vandice…

The Skreeks watch Jarik intently.

"Are… these your warriors?" the vixen asks softly, squeezing Jarik's arm just a bit tighter.

Jarik looks at the Skreeks, "Friends, I'm going to escort Lady Vandice to our home. She needs to rest. Please, when you can, bring the captain of the ship to our home." He thinks, "Whatever money the bandits have, you can keep. I'll return later with the captain and we can have a funeral for our fallen comrades. He smiles, "And well fought, my friends."

The Skreeks give Jarik another cheer, and then set about the serious business of … looting the dead.

Jarik looks to the vixen, "Never refuse help from those who offer… " He smiles, "They may not look like much, but they've been a good team." His ears wilt, "I will miss Noggin."

Later that evening, Jarik's followers, reduced to a third of their initial number (and a significant number of those simply being the hangers-on that fled during the fight) celebrate in the stone keep, generously passing out mugs of grog and even a bit of ale.

The captain – a slightly graying vixen – and some of her lupine crew have come as well, though they politely decline offers of grog.

The vixen sits close to Jarik, but distant from the rest. Apparently the Skreeks make her nervous.

Jarik stands and prepares to address the group. He's dressed in a more formal attire. A white shirt and gray/blue vest with dark pants. "Friends and guests, may I have your attention please?"

The captain, a plantigrade vulpine, looks to Jarik, her wolves following her gaze as well. The Skreeks take a little longer to silence, but give their attention as well.

Vandice quietly swivels her ears towards Jarik, she flashes him a bright smile and raises her mug of water to him.

The knight speaks gently, "Friends, today one of the most dangerous brigand groups was defeated, perhaps utterly." He looks to the remaining team, "We lost many valiant comrades and they will always be remembered. Please don't let this end our fight to bring peace back to the territory." He looks to the Captain and her crew, "I am glad we were able to aide you. I hope your ship wasn't badly damaged. I'd like to hear of your destination and plans later, if that's okay." He looks down at the Lady Vandice and smiles.

Jarik smiles, "We also rescued a lady from the brigands' hands. She needs to be escorted back to Rephidim. I'm willing to go, are there any who wish to accompany me? I won't be gone long. Just long enough to help her get home and locate some friends I left there." He looks at his crew, "Think of it as a short vacation, you can relax here and work on our home. No battles for awhile."

The captain nods to the fox knight, and then looks around, before answering, "We are most grateful and indebted for your help, good sir Knight. We were coming from Elamoore, borne for Rephidim. Our journey will be delayed, of course, while we make repairs. As for myself, I am certain I owe you my life. If there is any way I may repay you, do not hesitate to ask it of me."

There are many murmurs amongst the Skreeks … but it seems they are content to take a 'vacation' for a while. (Their loot should keep them well-stocked in grog and munchies for quite some time… )

Jarik nods to the Captain, "I ask for passage to Rephidim. And if possible, passage back here when my task there is complete."

"Consider it done," nods the Captain, smiling evenly.

Vandice's tail flicks happily. "This is all working out wonderfully!" She takes a delicate sip from her mug.

Jarik looks at his crew, "I WILL be back. I do expect to see this place improved upon. Use that gauche and sword to by some decent furnishings for this place, please."

Trog stands (with the aid of his club), and salutes Jarik. "Trog keep ratties in line. You come back soon!"

Jarik smiles down at Vandice, "I do still want to hear what has happened in Rephidim, I've been gone many many months."

Jarik grins to Trog, "Good. Ask Winnowei for help if they give you any trouble."

The big wolf nods solemnly. The Skreeks break into another drunken cheer for their war leader.

The sandy vixen looks sadly at her mug. "I've been prisoner of those horrible bandits for many months. I am probably as much in the dark about Rephidim as you are. Ohhh… My friends all probably think I'm dead by now," she sniffles a bit.

Jarik pats Vandice's shoulder, "Well, soon they will know otherwise. I promise." He looks around the room at this gathering, even with the losses today, he feels happy. The knight made a difference today. The Bolt-Skull Gang routed, a airship saved, and a vixen will be returned home. Perhaps it's not the most grand adventure, but Jarik couldn't ask for more.

After some time to get help on repairs and eventually bringing the airship back to airworthy status, the "Mixed Blessing" sails once more through the skyways, bearing its crew onward to the floating city of Rephidim, and whatever news might await.