Chapter Two: The Hippocampus on the Cracked Lintel

Shamush squints hard and yells, "Eh, this mystical man of yours seems to working to piss off my doggish..." He looks at One Eye and Fox Face, a bit at a loss, "Well friends is putting a bit strongly, eh? Soon to be former business associates, let's say. I think they were about to rob my non-doggish friend and I, then put us out on our sorry asses. They aren't what you'd call friendly at the best of times, and flying arrows and flashy magics as a way of saying halloo haven't done much to get em smilin'."

He raises his eyebrows to Zangua, then looks to the dog-men and seems to decide something. He calls out to the strangers, "Look here, the dogs want you dead, and they want our money, so unless you're toying with us, I say we help you chase the dogs away and then sit down to have some corn. Got some on the boil here and it's looking pretty damned good." He bangs the edge of his shield against the pot with a clang.

"Fox Face, One-Eye... why don't you boys find your brother and just piss off, huh? We had some laughs, made a little coin, treed a few house cats for fun, but let's just go our own ways before you get killed. I'm thinking this group has got the means to do it, too." He shrugs, and sighs, "Us humans are just kind of a treacherous garbage people, you know?"

Shamush is trying to be persuasive!

"Aye! We don't want any trouble! Just a place to rest and eat some dinner!" Felor yells back as he advances slowly towards the barn.

Advance towards the barn but stop outside the doorway, giving the dog-guys space to scarper if they so choose. Ready an attack against either of the dog-guys if they attack.

Seeing Fox Face rush towards Felor, Vad lets loose with another crossbow bolt.

Zangua pops up, around his cover, and levels his hand crossbow at One-Eye. "You go," he mutters. His eyes are hard, ready to commit to the attack if need be.

Stowing his weapons securely, Mordred scales the rough-hewn siding of the barn and leans in through the window.

"Hello friends. No need to fear, as I am not as demonic in attitude as I am in appearance, and my companions have seen more than their share of trouble this day. We want nothing more than to share your fire for the night and depart peacefully in the morning. Would that be acceptable?"

Zangua is about to call out a parting insult to One-Eye, when a devil pokes its head in. He whirls around in surprise, hand crossbow raised at the intruder in the window. A part of him only barely recognizes the words spoken, not enough to discern the exact meaning. Zangua, does, however, stays his trigger as the context of the conversation indicates non-violence.

He remains wary.

Felor was getting the impression that the dog-men who were attacking them were merely confused, rather than malicious. With this in mind, he's reluctant to land a killer blow on his opponent, and instead opts to try and crack his opponent over the head with the end of his spear.

Spear attack against Fox Face, but going for a knock-out blow rather than a lethal one if it hits and reduces HP to 0.

"You'll want to step back, demon," growls Zangua at Mordred. The aimed crossbow does not waver. "If you're with the group outside, you can come in through the front door like decent folk."

"Indeed." Mordred tells Zangua through the window. "Now that that bit of unpleasantness is past us, I believe we can all behave like humans."

He drops from the wall and attempts to waylay Vad, Leth, and Felor before they enter the barn. "I don't know how much we can trust this pair, but a night out of the rain would do us all some good, so why don't we try and make peace with them for now. Make no mention of Zora or the sphere, of course."

Shamush relaxes, lowers his shield and returns most of his attention back to the cookpot. He waves off Zangua, laughing, "Oh come on now! We just spent time traveling with a bunch of fellows that were partly dog. If this man is part goat -- and less goat than the brothers were dogs-- I'm right sure we can accommodate him, eh? I've had more trouble with dogs than goats in my past, and that's the truth!"

He yells towards the others without looking up, "Kindly truss ole Fox Face up against a support beam and we'll call him insurance against his brothers trying to burn the place down around our ears while we sleep tonight." He stabs some corn with a pointed stick and lifts it out of the water to examine it. He smiles a gap-toothed smile and exclaims, "And speaking of ears, gather around the fire and we'll lend you ours! Ha!"

Zangua grunts. He considers Shamush's words and nods, acknowledging the barbarian's outlook on life even when it's so different from his own. He releases the catch on his crossbow and removes the bolt, returning both to their respective places at his waist. Then he sits down at the cookpot, eager for dinner.

Felor quickly binds the unconscious dog-man, and ties him up to a beam inside the barn as suggested. Relieved that the two strangers seem to be friendly sorts, he relaxes a little, and lays down his spear and shield while he tends to the dog-man's wounds.

Joining the others at the camp fire and breaking out some rations, he addresses the two newcomers.
"So, friends, what part of this fine werld do you hail from?"

Leth listens to all of this unfold, and puts away his bow, as he follows the others into the barn. Still wondering what happened, but sensing that it really wasn't worth bringing up now that the situation was resolved, he decided to keep his comments to himself with the exception of a brief apology for being so quick to attack them. He finds a place to sit and begins eating some food he had packed, listening to the conversation.

Shamush dumps a bunch of corn cobs onto the back of his shield, heedlessly spilling steaming water out along with it. He gingerly picks up a cob and starts gnawing on it with methodical messiness and relish. Clearly he's hungry. Finally, he says, his mouth flecked with mashed kernels, "Name's Shamush! I hail from Darcra. Used to be a lay brother in the Horizonist Sect of the Church of Selves, but then my temple got massacred while I was out on an errand. Quite the thing! Anyhow, I beat feet when I saw that and have been on the road since then. Met ole Zangua here on the way, and then the dogfellows later. We did... odd jobs together, let's say. I was seeking enlightenment and funding, but ain't got much out of it but flea bites, which don't count as legal tender in these parts at least."

Zangua knows better than to waste time with introductions before he's gotten his share. He claims a cob and juggles it briefly to let it cool. His eating habits are akin to Shamush's as his teeth harvest the kernels with abandon.

Finally, he thinks to speak. "Zangua," he says, indicating himself. "From the south. Used to bash heads for regular pay until things went... well, south. Headed north this way and hooked up with Shamush." Zangua picks spilled corn from his stubble and pops them back into his mouth, wasting nothing.