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OOC- Scout is fine with me. If you stop hearing the sound of show tunes being whistled on the breeze, you'll know we've run afoul of beasties.

[OOC]Either that, or Liza Minelli is getting married again.[/OOC]

The afternoon's travel goes without incident. Hiric pushes the pace as much as he dares, concerned with the time lost at the roadhouse. Mid-afternoon your progress is halted by a group of shepherds driving a fairly large flock of sheep and goats across the track, escorted by armed cavalrymen. The cavalrymen are mismatched - no two wear the same armor, but all ride light horses and are are armed with more-or-less identical short bows, and all wear matching baldrics. Mercenaries, apparently, hired to protect the flock.

Papa comments, "Difficult times, when even herds of sheep must have armed guards." He eyes the mismatched armor. "Maybe not very effective armed guards, but perhaps enough to dissuade the average looter."

He is silent a moment, then seems to change his mind. "Perhaps not as ineffective as all that, though. Those bows are expensive and might deal a lot of damage before any bandits came near."

Elias wheels his horse away from the caravan and towards the nearest mercenaries.

"Ho there," he yells, waving a hand above his head in greeting.

Angel rides closer to Papa for a moment, "We do what we must" she notes "i too have aided in guarding cattle. You do what you must to survive."

Papa glances sideways at Angel, squinting into the sun that burns behind the half-elven woman's head like a crown.

"You guarded cattle?" He sounds surprised. Then Papa chuckles. "I'm glad to have avoided that type of contract. Sheep would have been even worse."

One of the cavalrymen moves closer, half the distance between Elias and the flock. "Ho there, yourself. What say you hold there and come no closer? We'll be across the road shortly."
The man's tone isn't particularly threatening, but he looks dangerous and ready to fight, as do his companions who have moved into flanking positions north and south of the road.

The more martial-minded folks in the party are quick to size up the situation: four mercs are visible on the near side of the flock, and two - no, three - more on the far side, all armed with bows. If this situation turns, it will get ugly fast.

"A job is a job." Angel mutters a little too matter of factly.

Bringing Praseul to a sudden halt she checks her weapon, keeping a suitable distance from the Mercs.

"My friends there is no need to quarel, we are simply travellers on the road, trying to reach our destination before nightfall.."

With that she motions to them to carry on.

"My friends will stay back, I have been where you are..."

Papa sits up straighter in the wagon and eyes the bowmen on horseback calmly but carefully. He also glances around to make sure that they are not a distraction for an ambush, and he spots the other three mercenaries.

After Angel speaks to the herd guards, Papa nudges her subtly and murmurs, trying not to move his lips, "Three on the far side of the flock."

Papa does not reach for his sword yet. He doesn't need to, not when he has the Father looking out for him, he whose symbol hangs around Papa's neck. His dark brown eyes shine and he almost smiles at the prospect of combat, but he is more than disciplined enough not to provoke.

<OOC> Any more bowmen or other possible combatants visible? </OOC>

"No quarrel at all, provided you keep your distance," the rider says, sizing Angel and Elias up as the do the same to him. Like most mercs, his gear is piecemeal - parts of it are imperial standard, but with solid greaves and brigandine cuisses added. The helm hanging from his saddlehorn is a cheaply-made flat-top, and he wears a long curved sword.
He pushes his felt hat back a bit to better expose his face and says: "You folks part of a regular outfit, or freelance?"

"We have worked together before... So, how is the sheep guarding business?" Angel asks confidently, attempting to deflect the question, hand on the hilt of her longsword. "I guarded Cattle.... its a thankless job." She nods to Papa, she saw the group, the odds look bad, especially with "Civilians"

(she thinks that the question is to size up their combat abilities, she doesn't know Bastion or Elias's combat skills, she doesn't want to test them for no reason, especially in an uneven fight)

Bastian rides his ridiculous looking donkey to the head of the wagon train. "Hello there! I take it there's problems in these parts with raiders? Is there any place we should be wary of?"

"Raiders? That'd depend on who you ask. Let's just say that some folk have a skewed view of grazing rights and leave it at that."

The flock takes perhaps ten minutes to cross the track, leaving it a bit messy but otherwise passable. Your path is then clear again.

Sundown finds you nearing the village of Allesia. The village sits on a hilltop and is surrounded by is surrounded by an earthen berm too high to climb easily. A pair of small towers, stone for the first twenty feet then topped with timber, flank the village gate.

It is nearly full dark by the time you arrive, but the gates have not yet been closed for the night. The sentry is a bored-looking old man with "veteran legionaire" oozing from his very pores. He steps out onto the road, positioning himself so that the torches on the towers are behind him, and raises a hand.

"Who's in charge here?" he asks. His tone is too bored to be obnoxious.

[Actions?]

Papa nods in Fraso's direction and answers the sentry. "Good evening to you, sir. You are in charge, I suppose, but if you are asking who leads our little party, that would be this man. He is acting on behalf of Baron Diotus, and we are his servants on this assigned task. We hope to find lodgings in Allesia for the night, then continue traveling in the morning."

Papa speaks calmly and politely, showing a little deference to the legionnaire as the legitimate authority in this fortified village, but not too much. After all, Papa had been in the legions himself.

Angel sits silently on her mount. Not moving. She too has been in the legions, she carries her scars silently