Hell Hath No Fury....

[Dhugal]

Meanwhile..back at the Bates' ...
John and the other Pritchites weren't in need of water as yet. Their
wells and cisterns had not yet been depleted enough for worry. But the thoughts he'd first had at the Baker farm nagged John on the ride home
with Mary.
"What's wrong, John?"
"That fire didn't start on it's own." He stopped their carriage in the
middle of the road and called to the groups both ahead and behind to
gather round.IIn a few minutes he'd organized fire watches at every
Pritchite farm, unawares of the similiar course of action being taken by
the militia. "And set watches on your wells and water supplies. They're
more precious than gold right now!"
After everyone was oncemore on their way, John drove the rest of
the way back to the farm, where he heard about the deliveries made
to the Jones' and others opposing the blockade.He rubbed his chin
thoughtfully.
"Wonder how long that city slicker thinks he can go on giving away
the town's water supply before the townfolk start complaining about that?"

[Suede]

"Fair enough.. fair enough. But you see, we're from the town, and we've decided to boycott you as much as you us. The Doctor is being taken care of well enough, I assure. I suggest..."

Just to spite the man he dropped several more flecks of ash away from his cigarette just for the comment before glancing at his fellows with a nod.

"There's ten of us sir, we have numbers... and crossbows." Which were being drawn from their backs and pointed towards the farmers. And, as far as could be gathered, they were just people from town gallavanting about with symbols on. Apparently they had as much distaste for the actions of the Pritchites as some others did.

"Now I think we have more reach. So turn around, so we can go back to a game of cards."

[Dhugal]

Matthew's eyes narrowed. "You're playing a fool's game whoever you are.
But mark me. I've got your face up here.." he tapped the side of his head.
"And I'll make a full report to the next Straka patrol that I see. We haven't
blocked any roads off on our side. Seems to me it's you breaking the laws here."
He turned to the others and motioned them back into the wagon.
"Let's go, men. I've no time for fools."
Matthew began turning the team around, deciding he'd let his father
make the next decision on how to answer this latest insult to the farmers.

[Tyralor]

"Uhainth'urbin'nu'in, 'my?" The Sergeant inquired from off to one side of the little showdown that was taking place. The Order had increased their patrols in the region, and a group of armed men was bound to attract the attention of the guardsmen. It was more than an unusual sight to have such a congregation in the middle of a roadway, unless it was a waystation or a band of brigands. Presently, it looked far more like the latter for Otis' opinion.

"Uh'opsnut. U'ot'er'ightin." The Sergeant paused to spit out a stream of foul smelling tobacco juice, before straightening up once more and eyeing the confrontation once more, a stern expression on his features. "Nu'a'ot'az'a'ole'ough." He concluded.

Of course, Straka patrols weren't usually composed of one member of the Order. Which meant that either Straka was truly stretched thin, or there were reinforcements en route already.

[Dhugal]

Matthew brought the wagon to a halt as the Straka Guard rode
up and hailed them. After the guard finished speaking, the young
Bates' murmured to the farmer seated beside him. "What did he
just say?"
The farmer shrugged. "Damned if I know! Hold on and see what
happens."

[Driftingstar]

The roadway had been far too tense for her liking lately and tonight was no exception. "Wonderful..." the gypsy muttered grimly under her breath, footsteps slowing to a cautious gait. She took in the gathering in the middle of the road, briefly toying with the idea of cutting through the woods instead. The only downside to that was the woods happened to be where the real bandits like to hide out.

Armed mobs, fires, guards. All three were something the gypsy tended to avoid. Unfortunately for Calandra, when something of this nature happens to take place on the very road one uses to get home it makes things rather complicated. "He hopes that your not planning on fighting." A quiet, nervous voice summed up roughly. At least that is what it had sounded like to her. Of course, it had also sounded like Otis has said something about nuts, lightning, and burning rat coughs too. However, she highly doubted either would apprectiate a sence of humor at this particular moment.

[Dhugal]

Matthew looked around once more and spotted the gypsy girl
by the side of the road. He rteached up to tug the brim of his hat to
her. "No, ma'am. We aren't fixing to fight, at least my friends and
I. We were bringing in food and water to the Edificium. We're
Pritchites but we don't want the folks in the infirmary to suffer
more than they already had."
. He motioned to the leader of the men blocking the road."That
one won't let us pass. And he's throwing his lit smokeweeds into
dry brush! Any one with sense knows not to do that in this heat!"
Matthew grinned. This was perfect: witnesses to the harassment
of folk who had wanted to do only a good deed. Now he looked
back at the Straka guard ."I don't suppose we could get an escort
into Myrken, trooper?"

[Suede]

The man at the front sighed, looking as if he had do something he wasn't particularly keen on by this point.

"It's a pity... Pritchites, that your so infantile... an influenced by a bunch of nitwit women." These were townsfolk of course, unscrupulous, but they were still members of the community, and it was their decision that they could boycott the farmers if the farmers them... or perhaps money had told them this.

No matter, the leader nudged the man on his left and nodded at Otis. As one the pair, whom were likely friends, fired their crossbows. One wildly towards Otis, the at the farmers... without waiting to see if they hit, the pair bolted for the woods, followed by most of the other men. If the Gypsy were in the way, they'd attempt to shove her aside.

And the rest? After they realized what just happened... they'd run too.

[HeySeuss]

“They’re fighting out there! It’s that damned Bates woman and those stupid Pritchies!â€

[Driftingstar]

Calandra stared at Matthew in disblief. They wouldn't let them to the ediffecium? What kind of lunacy was going around this time. The gypsy's mouth opened, then closed, quickly swallowing the sharp comment which rested on the tip of her tongue. Pritchies, whatnot, this whole thing seem a trace absurd to her. A glance was shared betrween the so-called Pritchies and Otis.."What if.." But her voice faded out at that, replaced by a yelp as one bolt whizzed past and then found herself roughly shoved aside, making fast aquaintances with the ground.

If she had intended on hindering the assailants, she had failed miserably in that attempt and settled firmly on shouting a multitude of curses at their backs instead.

Sill was right. She should have taken the north road.

[Dhugal]

If it was one trait of his father that young Matthew Bate's had
inherited, it was caution. So he'd not been caught awares when
bolts were fired. He dove off the wagon to the ground, but landed
badly, knocking the wind out of himself. Thank the gods the horses
did not spook and bolt, and his companions quickly piled back out
after him to check on his condition while readying to defend him
if need be.
"I'm alright, I'm alright!" Matthew struggled to his feet, scowling as
he saw the assailants were scattering like so much chafe in the wind.
"Is that girl hurt?" He looked about until he saw her nearby and
walked over to help her up to her feet if she would allow it. As he
walked towards her, he shouted over towards the Straka Guard.
"You're a witness, soldier! We were attacked!"
And then a shout from the wagon caused him to forget everything
and go running back.
"Bates! Samuel's been hit!"

[Dhugal]

The shout drove all thought from Matthew's mind. A body wound
from a crossbow at this range could be fatal, even if it didn't hit a
vital organ, but upon reaching the wagon he found that Samuel
had been extremely lucky. Apparently the bolt had grazed his shoulder
and then buried itself in a sack of grain. The man was already sitting
up and protesting he'd be fine as the other farmers fussed over the
wound.
Matt turned around now to look again at the Straka guard. The gypsy
hadn't been hit, but the guard had yet to comment on all this.
Had a crossbow bolt found him as a target?

[Tyralor]

Fortunately for the member of the Order, the shot was as described. Wild. Otis had paused for a second, half crouching and readying to dive off in one direction or another in order to present less of a target. However the first shot went well wide over his right shoulder, and there didn't seem to be any others forthcoming. So he turned and watched to see where that bolt would land.

Some of the folks that made such artifacts as crossbow bolts or quarrels generally left telltale marks on their fletching or shaft, depending on the job. The garb that they'd been wearing could just as easily been stolen, but the quarrel was less likely to have been by far. So the guardsman wanted to ensure he collected both of them and then he'd start asking around.

Perhaps the rest of the patrol that was in the area would bump into one or two of the lot and apprehend them. Otis, on the other hand, was a bit more preoccupied with finally finishing tying up his pants. That really, had been one of the worse times to have been ducking off into the bush.

"Ey'yne!" He shouted. Once his pants were secure, he trotted over to retrieve the quarrel first, before he'd return to sort out things with the gypsy and the farmers.

[Tyralor]

It was a polite knock on the Bates' door late in one evening that might draw them out to the Lieutenant from Straka that was lingering there with a few other individuals. One could be hopeful they'd answer the door at any rate. Either way, a number of goods were delicately being set on the ground, most wrapped in rags and cloth to prevent breakage.

The offerings would be returned to the Bates for distribution amongst those that had brought them forth, with the exclusion of the kidney stone. That earned a faint muttering of irritation from Joshua Kilborn. No more limbs, bodily fluids, stools, or parts of the body were to be considered as offerings. A suggestion that a more suitable location might prove viable to dedicate a small shrine to the barkeep. Perhaps a subtle reminder that while Pritchard worked at the Dagger, it was the man they were worshipping, not the tavern.

"The current tender will understand if you continue to shirk the tavern, and that's a point of contention you can decide upon yourself, but there's been quite enough holding the rest of Myrken hostage over this disbute. On both sides. The tavern wench is a stubborn mule and won't like apologize anytime soon. She's only mildly worse than the barkeep, though they're an agreeable enough lot, after a fashion. That's the agreement I worked out. Neither one of you gets everything you want, but it'll be sufficient. We've got bigger problems. Clear?" The Lieutenant would state to any of the adult Bates that could be raised. There were more than a few pauses as he had to catch his breath, but the words wouldn't be lost. It would've been nice to get the bar wench to provide an apology too, but may as well get water from a rock.

"Put this behind you." The Lieutenant pleaded, before he would turn to make his way back to the cart that by now, the other guards had finished unloading. They'd be set to depart right shortly.

[Dhugal]

Relieved to see the Straka unhurt, and after once more reassuring
himself that the gypsy woman was not wounded, Matthew Bates
climbed up into the seat of the wagon while the other Pritchites
clambered back aboard. Matthew nodded to the guard
. "You deal with that lot as you see fit. As for us, we have supplies
to deliver to the Rememdium" He snapped the reins and the wagon
rumbled off down the road.
And so the Pritchite wagon arrived. The supplies were unloaded
onto the porch of the infirmary as two of the farmers kept close watch
out for another attack and the wounded Samuel's shoulder was seen
to properly. It was shortly before the job was finished that a townsman
friendly with the Bate's family approached the wagon to give Matthew
a piece of news that left the young man grimfaced and pale with anger.

*******************
So it was that when Mary Bates moved forwards to give the Straka
Lt. Kilborn a piece of her mind that her husband held out his arm to
block her path. This time it was John who would do the talking.
"Last time I checked around here, a man had a right to sell his
goods whereever and to whomever he chooses. And we and those
with me choose not to traffic with folk that belittle our beliefs, or folk
that threaten to behead a monk and display his head on a pole, or folk
that waylay supplies meant for the infirmary and fire crossbows on
those bringing those supplies."
John ran a hand through his hair. "Townfolk seem to think they can
sneer at us and get away with it. That barwench made mockery of us
from the start of all this and still does. Her friends that work there
do likewise and threaten violence against a man of god. And a glib
tongued Councilman goes about threatening to take our land, and
folk in town go along with that idea, even if you don't, Lt. Kilborn."
"We Pritchites have no problems, Straka. We've water enough
to take care of our own, and unlike townfolk, we know how to fend
for ourselves. We've had to do it enough times in recent years."
He let our a breath. He'd barely controlled his temper all day
since Matthew had returned from town with the wounded Samuel.
"I'm sorry, but there'll be no more deliveries to the Rememdium. I'll
not risk the lives of friends and family.As for the lot at the Tavern ,
tell them until we get that apology, they can go suck eggs. If they
can find any, that is."
"Come, Mother. We're done talking." He steered Mary back
towards the farmhouse door.