Runner
The Southern Route to Groville
Runner hadn't expected much in the way of loot from the gnolls. No one really did. At best their arms and armor could be turned into scrap metal. Everything else was practically useless. What little loot that the hyena-esque monsters had on them was in the way of coppers and silvers. She had gotten a good share for taking care of the huntsman gnoll who was in charge of the ambush. A handful of silvers, enough to equal a week of pay working for the ever-grumpy Jonesy.
Speaking of Jonesy, the guy was a total wimp! Hilarious! Apparently, when fighting breaks out, he just dives under the tarp covering his cart and hides. Just waits for the whole thing to blow over. Not a total shocker, but it was still kind of funny.
The real shocker to Runner was not Jonesy but instead was Inathia. The dragonborn woman was massive and yet she was a total coward. She doubted that Inathia even needed a sword. If that rock was anything to go by then she could have just crushed those gnolls' skulls. It was weird.
But that was past them now. It is evident that with the addition of more guards, Inathia did not need to take an active stance when it came to guarding. She seemed to be more than happy just acting as an extra set of muscles to push the cart out of ruts.
By now, the day had passed. Camping out in a large group was new to her. Dozens of tents and bedrolls set out in small clusters surrounded by a wall of carts and horses. It offered safety that she wasn't used to in the wilderness. Towns and cities were their own ordeal, with their own problems for her.
Jonesy had rudely tossed their meals out for them to figure out before retiring to his little domain under the tarp in the cart. She chewed on her jerky voraciously. It sure did beat the old rations Baz had given her. It had some spice to it. If only it was some fresh fish… eshah… she could kill for some nice bounty from the ocean.
She lingered on that thought while watching Selm give half of her meat to Inathia. Runner pondered on her own lack of desire to return to Twindock. She missed Miyet quite a bit, of course, but not her place of birth. Not really having much to go back to helped. That and the bounty of her head. She shuddered. Hope none of these folks are bounty chasers. She doubted the price for her was good enough to warrant dragging her all the way south anyhow.
Miyet, the land of her birth, was where she would want to go once she got her curse fixed. Its beaches were warm and its forests were filled with little secrets. The fish that was caught fresh and daily. And the colors… oh how she missed the colors of Miyet. Everything from the food to the clothes was colorful. Miyet produced many of the greatest artists and bards across this side of Rumeris. Perhaps even beyond there. It was a wonderful place to be, aside from the whole "gold is power" deal that ravaged nearly all of the city-states in Miyet. That part she didn't care for.
Welp.
Soon she would get her hands fixed. Soon she could run along the warm beaches of her homeland. Soon she would walk amongst streets of colored chalk and flower petals. Soon she would eat fish caught from the Golden Sea. Soon.
But for now, she had to just survive and get to Groville. Easy enough task. Yeah, she could do that. Runner assured herself, confidence was the key to unlocking any lock!
"Runner. I have a request." Vaydulmer spoke to her, snapping her back out of the mental tide she was swimming in.
"Uh… what I can do for you, Vlimgaer?"
"I was wonder-... what did you call me?" He sidetracked, apparently distressed at how far from his actual name that was.
"Long names are hard, kay?" She grumped. Wasn't her fault his was so damn complicated.
"My surname is not even four syllables long?"
"Okay and? Still long."
He took a long look at her, searching her face for something. His left eye twitched, the irritation in it building to some argument. However, he exhaled slowly through his sharp nose and seemed to let it go.
"Yule. Just… call me Yule." He relented. She nodded, now that was a name she could remember better. Or forget worse.
"Yule it is! What do ya want Yule?" She grinned up at him. Victory over a stuffy mage was an exhilarating rush. Sure hope she doesn't get addicted to it.
"It has come to my attention following today's battle that you possess some modicum of discretion and…" he looked around for a moment, "...covertness."
Oh… that was interesting. Was he suggesting what she thought he was suggesting? "Are you suggesting what I think you are suggesting?" She whispered.
"I have no idea what you are thinking, Runner." He said, blatantly. How can one be so "smart" and yet so dense, she wondered.
"Eshah. Forget it. So I am sneaky, what of it?"
He looked at the rest. Baz was busy patting down the horses. Inathia was still nibbling on some dried meats. Selm was… staring off into the distance like a loon.
"How about a collaboration?" His tone was quieter. "I would like to know just what is inside of that cart. This was not the first time we have been attacked. It is also not the first time it was this cart in particular that was targeted more than the rest. I must know why."
Her eyebrows shot up. "You… wait wait wait. Let me get this straight. You want me to break into our charge's cart and poke around?" He simply nodded. "I dunno… why would I ruin the first honest job I have gotten in," she hesitated, "a long fucking time?"
"Because you are as curious as I am." He stated as if it was a matter of fact.
Personally, she didn't mind sneaking about and taking things that people had little to no use for. Nor did she mind a little bit of mischief here and there. But this… this was just asking for trouble. No doubt that if she broke the most important rule that Jonesy had put out for them, she would be fired on the spot. And she did not want to go back to roaming the wilderness on her own. Why in the hells would she do that?
It seemed Yule was convinced she was the right person for the job. She could do it. It would satisfy her own burning curiosity. It's just… did she need to do it?
The answer was yes. If not just to satisfy her curiosity, then to stave off the itch her hands felt whenever she looked at the cart. Runner knew from experience that the itch would only get worse. She'd rather it be on her terms, with a potential ally to help her.
"Fine. But what if it's got some magic booby-traps or something of the like?"
He shook his head. "There is none that I can tell. I have checked every three days for the past several weeks." This was apparently something that had been eating at him for a while, then. "If it would help your confidence, I shall spend what little resources I have left for the day and check again during my watch."
It did.
~~~
Night came quickly, as did her watch. Yule did not seem to appreciate the same dagger-to-the-throat treatment that Baz had experienced previously. That was one habit that Runner was not going to rid herself of, no matter how trustworthy these people seemed to be.
He had assured her though that the cart was purely mundane. Nothing magical on the outside that he could tell. When questioned about the inside, he shrugged. His explanation about certain materials and their abilities to dampen the ambient magical aura of enchanted things or wards was too complicated for her, so she just nodded along. It was probably safe then.
Currently, there was no real lock on the cart. The only barrier between her and knowing what was on the inside of that cart was the wood that made it up and the flat tarp on top of it. Overall, with how deep the cart was, there was probably about two and a half feet of clearance between the cart bottom and the tarp.
She had tried to get a good idea of what was in there by looking through cracks in the wood. The typical gaps between boards and all that. A dead end. Cracks were too small and the interior had quite a bit of stuff inside. Or at least it had some inner lining that made that avenue impossible. That left her to find a way into the cart. Like many carts, the back panel of the cart was a hatch, meant to make loading and unloading cargo easier. That was likely the easiest way in. Weirdly, aside from the small entrance Jonesy primarily used, the tarp itself was tied on the inside of the cart. Fastened by some ties or nails on the inside. She couldn't use the Jonesy entrance either, she had heard him snoring right below it.
All in all, everything pointed to that back hatch. Her hands made quick work of the small bolt latches that kept the back secured from the inside. Once again, weird to see her own hands move about on their own, but it worked. Maybe it wasn't that her hands were moving on their own(they technically did so without her meaning to) but that they were filling her head with how to do the things she was doing. It would explain why she could pick locks despite never being taught how to.
Were her hands possessed by some ancient thief? Did she accidentally kick some dirt over some sneaky bastard's grave? It's not like Runner had a habit of going to old graveyards and pissing on graves… but maybe her dad did? Ew. Thanks Dad, cursed me by being weird, she thought.
Cursed by the ghost of a dumb criminal or not, she was able to carefully let the hatch down. It had a bit of the tarp tied to it as she opened it, but thankfully by opening the hatch a little it was then possible to untie it. Her eyes darted around inside the cart.
What she saw first was a couple of crates of rations, probably filled with salted meats and other travel foods. She noted the sleeping form lying in the back of the cart was Jonesy himself. The man was curled up in the fetal position. He was just as sweaty asleep as awake. Double ew.
All of that quickly left her mind when she saw what she could only assume was the "secret cargo". And wow. It was certainly something. It required her to shift another thick tarp off of it, but what she was was weird. Some sort of stone chest, about two feet in every direction. The thing was made of a solid gray stone and was chipped only minorly in a few small spots. Its weirdness increased when she realized it didn't have a lock… or a lid for that matter.
What the fuuuu- her thoughts began, before she quickly dropped the tarp back over the chest. Eshah, the thing is enchanted. Her hands had nearly begun caressing the chest to try and figure out a way to open it when she spotted a few pale orange runes begin to glow. Or pulse? She, at that moment, had no idea what the appropriate magical word was. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of her face, spawning from anxiety. Her hands had only given her control back one other time before, and that was because it would have resulted in her losing them. Painfully.
As much as she hated it, Runner was gonna trust the cursed hand's instinct on this one. That chest looked dangerous. Way too dangerous for some fob like Jonesy to be porting. What in the hells was he doing with it then? Should she even try and find out, or was that too dangerous in its own right…?
~~~
After dawn had waned and the caravan had begun moving, Runner had once again found herself on the side of the cart containing Yule. She had, very very quietly, told him about what she had found(omitting the part where her hands were her warning system). The mage had sadly little answers for her in what the hells they were dealing with here.
"I cannot draw any conclusions without seeing it myself. The fact of the matter is, we are transporting something magical. That was probable before, but now it is confirmed. Whatever it is must be important or powerful enough to warrant such a storage system." The mage had simply shrugged beyond that. Something in his face, however, convinced Runner that he was still pondering on the topic. He probably had a better idea than what he revealed, but simply didn't trust her enough. Rude, but fair. She didn't trust him either.
As far as she was concerned, the only person she trusted at this point was Baz, and that was only because he saved her life twice now. The two dwarf women were… well they could still have ulterior motives. Inathia though, maybe Runner could come to trust her a bit. She seemed simple enough.
And that was it. They spoke no more of the mysterious and dangerous cargo their employer was transporting. If anything, it made for the rest of the day to be that much more boring to Runner. The rush of discovering some weird secret was lost simply by the fact that there was nothing to do about it. Her mood slowly fell to the agony of monotonous walking once again.
The sky began to mirror her graying mood. Storm clouds had begun to move across the sky, rumbling ominously in the distance. Soprinis storms were no joke around here, it seemed, as the caravan had made camp early that day in order to prepare for the impending rainfall. For those with carriages and water-resistant tents, it would mean an uncomfortable night. For those without, it would be a miserable night of little sleep while huddled under trees or carts all the while still getting pelted by rain and wind.
Sadly, Runner fell in with the latter. Eshah.