Sarka, southwest farm, the fallows, Klos 19th, 350AC, 15:00  (underground, 65 degrees, half moon)

The robed badder sneers again with his sharp yellow fangs.  “It is good that you are not here to cause trouble.  But trouble is finding you.  For your safety, and the safety of the realm, you will come with us back to your lodgings until the king summons you.”  He jabbers in the badder language at those surrounding him, and Zeebo realizes he has a long way to go in learning the tongue (since they are not talking about eating, crapping, entering, leaving, etc).  The robed one slaps a hand on the shoulder of one of the light infantry and says to you, “You will keep pace with Tarrl here.”  Infantry and archers form up all around you.  The hoplites and the robed one are behind you in a ‘V formation’.  Your whole group (unless you resist) start to move forward to the north, heading out of the fallows and into the farm.

Tarrl, who seems a bit short even for a badder, wields a crude double handed ax (although Arvak would use it one handed).  He starts snarling in the badder language and apparently the robed one’s tongues mutation is still in effect around you, because you understand: “What did Silfrar look like this time?”

Arvak, see private post.

Sarka, southwest farm, the fallows, Klos 19th, 350AC, 14:55  (underground, 65 degrees, half moon)

After listening to your tales, the robed badder speaks quietly to some of the soldiers around him.  They look over the scene, particularly at the four dead badders.  Archers keep a close eye on you during this time.  Then the robed one and about a dozen of the light infantry march up to your group.

“Give me something valuable, and I’ll tell the king your statements are true.  Otherwise we take your weapons and you will not be so comfortable.”  He sneers, showing a lot of yellowed teeth.

Sarka, southwest farm, the fallows, Klos 19th, 350AC, 14:45  (underground, 65 degrees, half moon)

[audio:https://gwevolution.netfarious.net/wp-content/uploads/2012/04/wanted.mp3|autostart=yes]

The four of you wait as the badders approach.  Those of you with special senses (like Ragnor’s heightened hearing) realize a handful of humanoids approach first.  They either stay at a distance or move away until the main group arrives.  Finally dozens of badder soldiers come into view.

About half of them are archers, most of the rest are light infantry similar to the soldiers that you encountered above ground a few days ago.  Ten are the duralloy-armored professional hoplites, who march forward in smooth precision in a loose phalanx formation.  Next to the lead hoplite is the tongues-speaking robed badder who first escorted you underground.  His eyes flash yellow, as he points his metal tipped cane at your group.  He starts snarling in the badder language, “Uuta shlarr et…”  Again, you start to understand the words as if he was speaking trade tongue.  “Drop your weapons now.  Any aggression and we will drop you.”  He starts looking around at the scene, his eyes pausing for awhile at the massive dead beetle.  “Why did you come here to the fallows?”