Faintly, through the musty and damp forest, there is the sound of footsteps approaching the party from several directions. Then a call: "Hold! We have mages and weapons both, and no wish to fight. Lay down your own weapons, criminals, and hold!"

Zaljan is annoyed. He's muddy, tired, and sick of dealing with everyone's crap. So he stands up tall and straight and calls back to the voices, "Ja? Well I be powerful necromanca, able to command spirits an' ghosts at will, an' I got nothin' left to lose. So you take your silly petty city nonsense an' go back to your city an' I won' have to kill each an' every one o' you in horrible fashion, then raise your corpse as zombie an' march it back to your home so you can feast on da flesh o' your loved ones too."

"Wow."

Taddeo draws his sword and main gauge, and peers in the direction the voice came from.

"Besides that, and I must admit that I am a little frightened now, who do you think we are?"

After a few seconds, the voice replies, "Smugglers."

"And we're not scared of you!" another, younger voice announces, to the sound of much hushing.

"People not scared don' need to assure you they not scared," Zaljan observes. "But only thing we smuggle be angry little girl, an' we only smuggle because da giant ova there be scared o' clowns." Zaljan stoops again, sighing. "Funny thing, fear o' clowns. Funny people with creepy faces. Who think o' that? Some city folk, ja?"

"Well, we have found a smuggler's den, by falling into it, I might add. However, we are travelers who have been attacked far to many times on the road to be comfortable, so are now traveling off road. I must admit that we are indeed well armed, both magically and conventionally. If you would like, we can move on, you can have the smuggler pit and no one will be eaten. How does that sound?"

At Zaljan's audition, Taddeo sighs.

"By smuggle he means travel off road. We are not smugglers, merely very pissed off, and trying to deliver our ward to school."

"Human trafficking!" the younger voice shouts. "He admits it!"


"I'm putting down my sword," the first voice announces. "If I approach, will you parley?"

"Yes. How about I put mine away as well and walk up a bit?"

Taddeo puts words to action and does so, though he does speak to the others before leaving.

"It would be nice to talk this out. If we come back this way I'd rather not have to deal with their rangers as enemies."

Edric takes a huge gamble.

He grabs Zaljan's wrist and turns him around quickly. "Zaljan! I've seen what your magic is doing to you. I brought us this way so that you wouldn't need to use it as much for a while. Please, please don't let yourself get carried away with this. This isn't what you want."

Edric's grip on Zaljan is gentle enough not to hurt the tall elf, but firm enough that he probably won't be able to easily break free.

"I'm worried about what's happening to you."

The sound of drunken singing begins to waft from Punchy's pit. That guy an get drunk in a minute.

Zaljan whirls his masked grimace towards Edric. "You don' get to talk 'bout worry. You don' get to talk 'bout anythin'. You be why I stretch, why I use magic for no reason, why I push spirits. I sacrifice everythin' good 'bout Voodoo so we keep on road, an' 'cause you scared o' little clown-man an' his clowns, oxen die, carts gone, goods left. You make it for nothin'."

He tries to pull himself away at this point. "Don' you talk to me 'bout worry."

Edric braces himself carefully, grabbing the elf's other hand too. "Zaljan, I'm not afraid of the circus people. I'm afraid of what you would have done to them. You need to let what you've done go and find yourself again. You've been trying to do too much this whole time. Let others bear some of the burden." He sighs lightly, looking down a little. "It hasn't gotten to the point yet that you're causing more trouble than you're helping, like the fairy was, but you need to know that there are problems that other people can solve. Maybe at a lower cost."

"You are dangerous right now, Zaljan, because you have nothing else to lose. I'm sorry that you expended what you did to raise the oxen, but nobody asked you to do that. I could have arranged things so the remaining oxen could carry our goods."

Edric lets go of the elf, looking sadly into his eyes. "You don't want to be a necromancer. I know that."

"You got no idea what I want," Zaljan growls before loping off, away from the group.

"Wait," the voice says, and the speaker emerges from the soggy underbrush: a tall half-elf woman in a patchwork of armor and uniform, head shaved, one side of her face bandaged with a makeshift dressing. "Stop or we'll have to give chase."

Taddeo gives a half bow to the woman, with an elaborate flourish of his right hand.

"Greetings, my name is Taddeo Tammaro Grigorus, though the weather is unfortunate, it is always a pleasure to meet interesting people."

He pushing a wet hank of hair out of his eyes, with a half grin.

"Especially those willing to talk instead of attack. However, to business. As I mentioned, we have indeed found a smuggler's pit. You may have the contents of it, minus the unfortunate amount missing due to an alcoholic member of our party who fell in and doesn't wish to leave. However, we do need to leave, as we are losing time."