The Bait and the Hook

[WeAreAllMortal]

Timberland Stronghold

The Timberland estate outside Vadda hummed with purpose, the stronghold’s halls alive with the murmur of preparation.

Inside the war room, the Twelve, along with Mirelle, Harlau, and the Timberland Alliance, stood gathered.

“Alright,” said Malachai, scanning the room. “Let’s lock the doors.”

Lady Jenet Woodward of the Alliance gave a nod. “Bentli, if you would.”

A heavy clunk echoed through the chamber as the doors were bolted shut.

Malachai rested his hands on the table. “Here’s how we do this. Reuben, Gideon, and Brice—you’re our merchants.”

The three men, clad in rich but practical tunics, covering up their steel plate armour underneath, gave small nods.

“Word’s already out that a rare book and construction deeds transport, worth ten thousand gold, is heading from Vadda to Meduli this afternoon.” He paused. “Any questions so far?”

Lady Woodward frowned. “So the three are the bait, and the rest of us follow behind?”

“Not quite.” Malachai shook his head. “If we follow behind, the outlaws will see us coming and run. So instead, we split into two groups and ride ahead of the merchants. If we spot the outlaws, we signal the others, but keep moving—make it look like we have our own business.”
Lady Woodward’s frown deepened. “And what if they attack the caravan before you turn back?”

Reuben smirked. “We can take a beating, my lady. We’ve done it before.”

“Exactly,” said Malachai. “Once we hit them from behind, our spiritists—you, Lady Woodward, and myself—can resurrect anyone who falls. The key thing is to trap them, not let them escape.”

Bentli crossed his arms with a smile. “And we'll have the element of surprise.”

Malachai returned Bentli's smile.

“Exactly, they won’t know what hit them.”

“But how can we be sure they'll come?” asked Dorian, a knight of House Timberland.

Malachai smirked. “We made a big show of buying deeds and books in Vadda. You know that dodgy guild that's all over the place there? They've always got someone hanging about the market, spying and listening to everything that's said. So we had some friends from a smaller guild talk quite indiscreetly about how they're equipping a guild village between here and Meduli and how they're taking some rare skill books along while they're at it, as well as the construction deeds.”

“Then they bragged how deeds and books are nice and light and that they would therefore travel without bags on their jungle horses for extra discretion and speed,” added Reuben with a grin.

“‘No one will catch us!’” mimicked Gideon to suppressed laughter. “They played it perfectly!”

Dorian smiled. “Alright, but how can you be sure this has reached the ears of The Pirates?”

“Because we know that this 'blue' guild is in a secret alliance with some red guilds like Jack's,” Malachai explained. “Jack pays them a cut of the proceeds, and in return, they supply him with information. And—to make sure the story was believable—we had our friends actually buy one of the books from a known member of this guild. Just to prove it wasn’t just talk.”

“So they can take part in murder and robbery,” Brice said darkly, “without getting their hands dirty.”

Dorian scoffed. “Only their souls are covered in filth. Yes, we know that lot. Everyone in the area knows them.”

He folded his arms and gave a nod. “Fair enough—this sounds like a solid plan, Mal.”

Malachai scanned the room. “Alright, is everyone clear on this?”

A murmur of agreement swept through the group, accompanied by grim, determined nods.

“Good. The horses are ready, we’re armed and armored. Let’s move out.”


Rash'Kel's Finest

PumpkinKilla handed the note to Jack.

Jack took it, skimmed it, then coughed up a laugh.

"10k worth of deeds, and these fools were bragging about it at the market? Are you sure they weren’t pulling your leg, Pumpkin?"

“They bragged how they were taking fast horses and no saddlebags, ‘cause all the books and deeds fit in their regular bag,” PumpkinKilla said smugly. Then, raising his voice to a falsetto, he mimicked, ‘We’ll outrun any brigands!’

“They were real proud and sure of themselves.” He smirked.

“Alriiight! Well, let’s go then, Jack! What are we waiting for?” exclaimed Pip the Patient, practically bouncing on his heels.

Jack sighed. “Calm down, Pip. These things need careful consideration if we don’t all want to end up in Vaul Moro.”

“That’s right,” Dainty Denis rumbled. “How we know fer sure? None of this is more than talk.”

Jack gave Denis an appreciative nod. “You know, for a Thursar, you’ve a keen mind, Dainty ma lad.”

Denis beamed, his gapped grin stretching wide—so wide that, from below, which is how one usually saw a Thursar, one could see the roof of his mouth.

Jack turned back to PumpkinKilla, raising an inquisitive brow. “So, just like Dainty said—how do we know this ain’t just talk?”

PumpkinKilla grinned, cocky as ever. “‘Cause they bought one or two of my books—the ones I brought up from jungle camp.”

Jack seemed satisfied. “Alright, well, that sounds like solid information.” He cracked a grin. “We’ll make sure you can sell those books a second time, then, Pumpkin me lad. Maybe a third… and a fourth, eh?”

PumpkinKilla’s face lit up. “Aw, Jack—you’re a businessman after me own lil’ Pumpkin heart!”

The rogue was clearly delighted at the thought of multiplying his sales with few additional acquisition costs.

“Alright, lads! Saddle up!” Jack called out. “You got your weapons and lootbags? Where’s Buttercup?”

He glanced around—then spotted her. “Ah, there she is!”

Buttercup pushed herself off the wall she’d been leaning against and, in one fluid motion, vaulted onto Daisy’s carapace.

“I’m ready. Just waiting for you lot to get organised.”

Without further ado—but with plenty of cursing, shouting, clanking metal, and the neighing of steeds—the troupe galloped out of Rash’Kel, thundering down the slopes toward the Vadda-Meduli trade route.