Be it so known that the bearer of this charter has been charged by the Swordlords of Restov, acting upon the greater good and authority vested within them by the Office of the Regent of the Dragonscale Throne, has granted the right of exploration and travel within the wilderness region known as the Greenbelt. Exploration should be limited to an area no further than thirty-six miles east and west and sixty miles south of Oleg's Trading Post. The carrier of this charter should also strive against banditry and other unlawful behavior to be encountered. The punishment for unrepentant banditry remains, as always, execution by sword or rope. So witnessed on this 24th day of Talistril, under watchful eye of the Lordship of Restov and authority granted by Lord Noleski Surtova, current Regent of the Dragonscale Throne.
They rode together into the south, father and son, the clomping of their horses’ hooves the only sound between them. It was a comfortable silence where both men dwelt in their thoughts mixing memory with the winding road ahead. So much went into how Shonden viewed that road. Just inside the folds of his tunic was the Charter; license to aid in the settling the Green Belt…and the duty to bring bandits to justice. It symbolized his new path, one Erastil had deemed him worthy to take.
Shonden turned in the saddle, casting a glance to the road behind them. Lankemshire was safely tucked beneath the horizon. Even the great oak beneath which his mother had been buried was no longer in sight. He’d paid his respects earlier days prior and said his goodbyes over her grave. The words of his promise rested upon the rich soil there, awaiting his return and their fulfillment.
“Your mother and I are very proud of you, my son.”
Shonden bowed his head and returned his focus to the road ahead. “I know, father.”
“The next years of your life were seeded long ago. But you must accept this new harvest and see it through.” His father pulled up rein and came to a stop on the road. “Oleg’s Trading Post is a half-day’s ride from here.”
Shonden pulled his own mount around so he could face his father. There was a flutter of excitement in the young paladin’s stomach. “I’ll not let you down.”
“I know. There is no doubt in my mind as to your quality, son.” He reached into his saddlebags and drew forth a pouch to hand over to Shonden. “The village elders took up a collection. They wanted to make sure you had enough to take care of any emergencies on the road.”
“Father, I couldn’t possibly accept…” Shonden tried to return the pouch once he heard the clank of coins, but his father refused.
“I think even old Kreig put in a few coins. Said something like ‘see to it yer boy dunna git inta trouble..’” His father cleared his throat with the effort of trying to replicate the old dwarf’s voice. He smiled briefly but his eyes brooked no argument. “Take it son, we all know you’ll use it well.”
Shonden relented and secreted the pouch into his pack. “Thank you, father.”
“Go and do no wrong, son. Stand firm in your faith and welcome what Erastil has for your life with a humble heart. I will be waiting for your return.” He sidled up closer to his son to embrace him.
“I will.”
Father bid farewell to his son, turning his horse back to the north. Shonden patted his horse on the neck and turned him to the south. “Let’s see what the future holds, Max.” he told the horse and nudged him into a canter.
-----------------
Shonden arrived at Oleg’s later that day. Ahead of him, he saw other figures waiting at the front gates. He grabbed the wooden holy symbol he wore about his neck and whispered a prayer of thanks. Then he rode to towards the outpost. His rough-spun cloak of greens and browns caught in the wind coming from the structure ahead.
“This has to be the place, eh Max?” he asked his horse. Better to not seem too threatening… he thought. Shonden unstrung his long bow and slid it into the old leather holster in his saddle. On the other side of the saddle his boar spear thumped against his calf. He reached beneath his green and brown tunic, inside a seam in his studded leathers to touch the Charter. …the future…
As he approached the gathered people at the front of the outpost, he raised an open right hand and smiled. “Long days and abundance,” he greeted. “Shonden Entbriar at your service.”
Joanna heaved a sigh as she waited at the gates. In one hand was a carefully-folded sheet of paper, in the other was a small, hard object. The paper, a charter, a license to stake a claim to new land. A chance to sieze territory for Brevoy. A chance to start a new life, to find some real excitement before settling down. Permission to hunt the bandits who threatened the area.
Bandits. Bah. No values among them. Ignorant to the concept of working for your reward and satisfaction.
Never taking her eyes off the road, she turned the other object over in her hand. A small pendant, an arrow carved from elk horn. The first thing she'd made with her father - a tall, stern man who believed in the typical Erastilian view. A man should hunt while his woman stayed at home. No-daughter-of-mine-will-provide-for-her-family. But, as the years went on, and Joanna found herself with a brother five years her junior, eventually the gruff man decided a daughter's help was better than no help, and conceded. He taught her how to fish, to farm, to carve. And finally, when she turned sixteen, he taight her the art of the longbow, and the hunt, the glorious hunt.
She heard the hooves before she saw the horse, and straightened her stance, her reminisces brushed aside. The paper went back in her pocket, the arrow slipped back around her neck. One hand moved slightly closer to a dagger at her thigh. When the rider raised a hand in greeting, she relaxed slightly; when she noted the wooden symbol of Erastil around his neck, she relaxed a little more. Not too much. She leant back againt the side of the gate, but still held her body carefully, like a half-drawn bow.
She nodded carefully at the rider as he introduced himself. Shonden, then. Very well. "You are an Erastilian?" she asked carefully. "What brings you to this outpost?"
As he jogged through the beautiful forest trees, Myrdul thought back on his most recent encounter with the small men. It'd been days and days, and tens of miles since he'd seen a living soul, but as he ran he saw the signs of civilization more frequently, rising smoke to the east, a plowed fields a few leagues away, the sound of a tree being chopped by an axe. He avoided this placed for now, sensing that when it was time to make contact with a small man, his spirit would know it.
Then a surprisingly nearby sound came from off to his left, a mans death-scream, just on the other side of a small rocky ridge. He'd heard many men scream on the fields of battle, whether the screams small men or the People, and this was definitely a death-scream. Almost involuntarily his quietly running feet turned towards the ridge, his steps becoming softer and slower, until he approached the edge at a bear crawl, smoothly adjusting Krasa so the huge hammer would not scrape against the earth. Finally at the edge, he peered over, noting just two small men tucked in the relative shelter of the ridge. Lucky for Myrdul, the sun was at his face and not his back, so his shadow would not be seen breaking the ridgeline by the small men below. It was a bloody scene, the coppery scent of blood rising to his nose.
One small man, plainly dressed in nonmilitant small men garb -blood soaking those garments thoroughly, was lying on the ground as his lifeblood seeped out of him. The other man held a long and bloodied dagger in one hand, dressed darkly, and with armor showing at the edges of his clothing. He was rifling through the dying mans pack and clothes, ignoring the injured fellows weak attempts to push his hands away and stop the dark flowing blood. Myrdul shook his head, confused at the sight, it did not seem an honorable death, but the barbarian could not reason out the happenings, and so began easing himself up to crawl away and carry on with his business. But as he glanced down one last time, he saw the dying mans eyes were fixed on his, a mere 15' separating them. Blood was bubbling at his lips as he moved them silently, whatever words he was speaking to Myrdul forever remaining unheard. What made him stay however, was the appeal and honesty in the dying mans eyes. Something touched deep inside the Barbarian, and he knew what he must do. Remaining quiet, the tall barbarian stood and took a hold of Krasa in two calloused hands, and then leaped down the distance to the floor of the ridge. Landing heavily, but balanced, Myrdul lifted Krasa high overhead, even as the knife-wielding man froze and started to turn towards the unexpected sound. He'd never see his attacker, as the full weight and fury of Krasa crashed onto his small man head, obliterating it and crashing the dead bandit into the ground.
Myrdul sniffed and let Krasa fall to the ground, moving to the nearly-dead adventurer, checking his grievous wound without hope. The man, who'd never removed his eyes from Myrdul, managed a bloody smile, and reached a trembling hand into his jacket pocket. He removed a carefully folded sheet of paper, remarkably free of blood, and held it out to Myrdul with failing strength. He coughed a painful, blood-filled cough, and managed a few last words, "Take this Charter... head... Head west -- Oleg's Trading! Pharasma be praised." and died in the big mans arms. Myrdul sighs regretfully, the small man had seemed nice enough... for a small man.
Standing and moving to the very-dead bandit, not that Myrdul knew what he was at the time, he removed one of his axes from his belt with his right hand, and placed his left hand on the bandits chest. Taking a deep, excited breath, he drew the sharp edge of the axe across his forearm, drawing a bright bead of his own blood. He let his head fall back and held his arms out to his sides, basking in the self-inflicted pain. Then he turned and hawked into the dirt at his side, mixing spit and dirt into a tiny muddy puddle. Next he scooped up a glob onto his finger, and rubed the mixture into the fresh wound of his forearm, causing it to string with fresh pain. The barbarian then ignored that pain, and set about covering the first dead small man with rocks, not having a shovel to bury him. Once this was done he looked at the dark-garbed dead small man, and sniffed. Satisfied with his work he turned and headed due west, the folded piece of paper secured in his pack.
------------------
A small man died under the ridge ... Not good.
A small man died next to stone,
If not for Myrdul, he die alone.
Dark small man stab and took his things,
Like sneaky rat... but death he brings.
Krasa laid dark small man low,
Myrdul took paper and has way to go. ... uh, thats ok.
He was lost in thought and humming to himself, composing the small mans death song as he ran, when he came out of the trees near the entrance of a huge castle, a small man astride a horse and a small man-woman conversing near the castle door. He approaches at a cautious walk with Krasa slung behind him, remembering what the small man trader told him long ago and raised a hand in greeting, baring his teeth in what he hoped was a friendly greeting. In a heavily accented and overly loud voice, "Hullo Small Men! I am looking for Oleg's Trading...please?" and trails off, but raises the folded Charter with his other hand, waving it around slightly, as if waving the white flag of truce.
Derakor had received the letter from Ericqal. The old man had gazed upon him while trying to find the right words. "These ain't animals you'll be hunting, they'll be beasts. Cunning, ruthless and ferocious. Are you sure?", he had asked. Both knew the question had been rhetorical. Ericqal wanted Derakor not to underestimate the challenges ahead of him. The young man nodded at him, reached out with his hand and the older man reached out with his. A firm hug followed and the mentor knew his apprentice was about to walk his own path. "By all the good gods, I wish you luck. Don't forget - Kurgess himself died during his moment of greatness, let it be a lesson to not reach too high too soon." Those had been the last words from his mentor. Eric had been a little stingy when Dera had embraced a strange young foreign god, but had eventually accepted it.
His shoulders were now carrying the heavy load of his gear and thoughts as he trodded down the path to Oleg's Trading Post. Sixty seconds of jogging followed by thirty seconds of walking had been pace all along and his face was slick with sweat. It was one thing to run without equipment, but the burden of his chainmail, shield, weaponry and camping gear had made his knees feel like jelly and turned the stone foundation of his shoulders into a wavering wall of reeds. Just as the hungry mouths of fear and doubt were finding a way through the wall of his mind, he spotted a sight for sore eyes - a tall wooden wall flanked by towers. The walls promised safety and the open gate welcomed him in.
As he closed in on the fortress he saw that a small group of travelers had gathered at the gate. Two hunters, perhaps a couple, were talking to a giant of a man. They all turned around when Dera approached and dropped a considerable amount of gear onto the ground to function as a chair for the moment. In between deep breaths he managed to say,"Greetings, good folk. Care if I join you while I recover for a moment?" Already he was bringing a canteen to his lips and after a few sips he poured the rest of the water over his hair and face to wash away the sweat.
While her face remained turned to the rider, Joanna's eyes flicked to the giant at the first sound of his approach. She looked him over briefly, as if sizing him up - it didn't take her long to realize that this man was almost a full foot taller than her, and probably twice as strong. He was covered in markings - scars, brands, tattoos. How odd. He carried a strange weapon, too - she didn't recognize the odd, double-headed, spiked hammer, but she could tell it looked lethal. However, he didn't seem hostile, just awkward, as though he didn't quite know what he was doing here, so she nodded.
"Indeed, you've found Oleg's Trading Post." Her eyes flicked to the paper in his hand, which looked oddly similar to the one in her cloak pocket. "What is that?" she asked, her tone equal parts demanding and curious.
Before she had an answer, a third stranger arrived - another man, also tall, with dark gold hair. He looked tired. She watched as he dropped his belongings, sitting on them and dousing himself with water. One eye still on the giant, she handed the newcomer her waterskin. "Here. You look like you could use it."
A smile danced on his face as he gladly took the waterskin out of her hands. "You're a dear, thank you. The name is Derakor Geralvi, of house Geralvi."
He immediately recognised the holy symbol around the man's neck and had a nagging suspicion the woman shared his faith. What she was doing so far from home if that happened to be true, was something he couldn't quite figure out. But it most likely was bound to be something very important.
"Joanna. And I'm far from a dear. You just looked thirsty, is all. Important to not run dry in a place like this." She shifted a bit more of her attention to Derakor, taking note of his name. What was a young noble, albeit of a minor house, doing out in the sticks? Was he friend or foe? She couldn't quite tell yet, which irritated her. She was usually better at reading people than this, and he seemed like he should be so easy to read.
The young man seemed to harbour no ill intent. She spotted a chain around his neck with what looked like a wooden holy symbol attached to it. It portrayed a strong arm holding onto a chain.
She noticed a strange wooden symbol around his neck - it looked like the same kind travelling priests wore, though it was unfamiliar to her. It didn't look like the symbol of any major religion she knew of, that much was certain. "That's an interesting symbol," she said noncommitally. "Are you a priest, then?"
He tried not to laugh, but amusement could openly be read from his eyes. "Alas, I am not a holy man, Joanna. I am a follower of Kurgess and with what I've been given by my ancestors and the gods I am trying to make the question of who I am a redundancy.", he said, seeming dead serious about the latter part. "You see, I was sent here on a mission to reclaim the Stolen Lands for the greater glory of Brevoy. That I will do and that is the deed that will carry my name throughout the ages."
"An interesting mission... and one we share, it seems." A small smile crossed her lips, the first hint at an emotion other than suspicion.
Myrdul took a few seconds to realize what the small woman-man was referring to, but then his eyes lit on the paper he still waved. He unfolded it carefully, to better understand what he held and answer her question as best he could. Luckily, he was saved from an immediate answer by the arrival of yet another smallman, and he raised his hand briefly and flashed his teeth to extend his greeting to the newcomer in proper small man fashion. As they conversed, Myrdul quickly scanned the document he held, stumbling over some of the words, but soon is ready to answer her earlier inquiry, and speaks up -pleased to now be able to answer. "This say I must explore and 'strive against banditry' somewhere around this Oleg's Trading Post. Are you here to strive as well? Like Myrdul?!" He seems very excited by the prospect, the hand holding the charter taking up the subdued waving again.
Her smile twitches a little. "I suppose you could say that. I'm here to help found a new community in service to Erastil, to find my fortune, and to destroy any bandits who may threaten either of my goals. So yes, I'm here to strive as well... Myrdul. Is that your name?"
Derakor waited until no one was talking to greet Myrdul and introduce himself to the man-giant. "Greetings Myrdul .. of .. ? ", and he left the question hanging in the air as he continued,"I am Derakor of Gronzi Forest, exemplar of the virtues of Kurgess and I shall join the both of you in your .. strive against banditry."
The whole process seemed to amuse the man, but then again he had looked amused ever since he arrived.
What a gathering! Shonden tried to contain his amazement at the workings of Erastil. He acknowledged the idea that the Charter had brought them all to this place, but paths had to be cleared through the dense underbrush before word could be received. It seemed Erastil had certainly favored them this day.
Another follower of his god, an exemplar for Kurgess - and a noble at that, and a giant of a man who's hammer could rival those forged by the dwarves in Brunderton.
He smiled in wonderment and shook his head. What a day to be alive!
"Old Deadeye's aim is ever true it seems." Shonden finally spoke. He dismounted his horse and lay the reins over the saddle horn clucking softly to signal Max to stay put.
Shonden heard the words of his father when glanced towards the nobleman named Derakor. His father had been ever distrusting of the nobility, referring to most of them as Lord Poppycock. He loved his father dearly, but Shonden listened more to his mother's teachings. If you are to know your harvest, you must know and understand the soil, the seeds and what must be done to cultivate. Likewise it is with friends. There is a stranger around many bends in the road who would be an ally if for only the right cultivation.
"I am Shonden Entbriar," he paused and nodded towards the north. "I'm from a small village named Lankemshire just a few days ride north of here." Shonden bowed slightly in respect to all in turn. "I am a humble servant of Erastil and seek to make safe the efforts of those who would open the Green Belt to settlement. It's my honor to be at your service."
"Honored to meet you, Shonden. I wonder if we'll be graced by even more companions or whether it is up to the four of us to chastise the scoundrels of the Stolen Lands."
|
The beautiful sorceress Kalima Raustald traveled a long way from her homeland of Taldor to reach the wilderness region known as the Greenbelt. In her search fr employment she had come across this job offer. Before her depature She had made sure to get the proper paperwork in order from the Office of the Regent of the Dragonscale Throne. Burocracy was such a bore but it was a good idea in her mind to make sure she would not get into any altercations with the local authorities.
The life of an adventurer had been hard on Kalima, having been fed a silver spoon throughout much of her life. But a far better profession than dragging one's heels in the mud with peasant work, earning nought but coppers a day and a meal on the table for one's troubles. Indeed, if there was a way to make a living outside the establishment, adventuring is the way to go. And this would be her first great adventure in the wide world.
The call out for aid against the banditry in the region seemed like a worthy enough cause. Such crimes affected the well-being of the people in the area and if those responsible could be brought to justice, the region would become safer for the citizens there. Of course her aid would not come without payment from those with the coin to hire her for the job.
The travel to Oleg's Trading Post, was fairly uneventful but exhausting nonetheless. Miles of travel by boat, cart and footwork took its toll on Kalima but she perservered long enough to eventually reach the trading post. Before entering the grouds, she made sure to duck behind some cropings and change her clothing into more courtier attire. After all first impressions were important.
She enters the outpost after greeting those who tended to the place cordally and then proceeds to retire to the local inn locale to set up some lodgings for the night and arrange a meal.
As for Kalima Raustald's appearance, she has brown well kept hair, a slightly tanned skin tone and chocolate brown eyes and stands at 5"8. She has a slender but attractive figure to her and definitely does not have the look of someone whose worked hard in their life. Currently she's dressed in a courtier's outfit, a beautiful red and white dress of the more noble-style fashion, although as its been stuffed in her backpack for a while, it does have a few creases here and there. After putting down her backpack and taking a moment to catch her breath, she addresses those in the tavern.
"Oh hello there fellow travelers. Allow me to introduce myself. I am Kalima Raustald of the kingdom of Taldor. I have traveled far to be in this outpost and I am hoping someone here will be able to tell me more about these lands and the events that are occurring. I had heard that bandits were running rapid across this region of late. Brutish individuals that they are, I have high hopes that something can be done to quell their tide and bring peace to this region."
A genuine grin spread on the scarred barbarians face, "You are right. I am Myrdul, Myrdul of the People!" He puts the paper away carefully, "Dis is good, dying small man say we strive together, and now Myrdul is here to strive. Very, very good." He looks to the others as they introduce themselves, "Hullo, small man Derakor, small man Shonden. Small woman-man, how are you called?" Sensing that these people are not his foes, he takes the remaining steps to the door of the large castle, examining it for a moment. "What Lord das live here?" he asks and pushes his way inside.
Derakor immediately recognizes that the symbols on both hunters are that of Erastil. Derakor recalls hearing rumors about some kind of statue or holy site in the area, which makes him wonder if they are here to help the quest or to find this rumored holy site? This is something that Derakor definitely wants to keep to in the back of his head as he doesn't want this to derail the primary focus of the mission.
Joanna has trouble truly reading Derakor for some reason, she is not sure if it is because of his different god or just because Derakor is really that simple and genuine of a person. All she knows is that Derakor truly appears to be sincere.
Joanna cast a careful eye around the newcomers. None of them seemed to know each other, which put her slightly more at ease. Nothing in their body language hinted at prior acquaintances. She did, however, note that they were all taller than her, and apart from the giant, who she couldn't read, younger as well. All fresh faces and breight eyes. That wasn't a pleasant combination. She'd always been taught that elders commanded respect, but as a short woman, would they think to offer it? At any rate, they seemed pleasant enough, so she didn't mark them as threats.
Shonden openly carried a holy symbol of Erastil, which put her at ease, though she did wonder how adherent he was to it - would he have her back if there was trouble, or was he the zealous type who'd mark her a heretic for being an adventuring woman? Either way, he wasn't likely to turn on her in a hurry. "I seek to settle the Green Belt in Erastil's name. I would be glad to have your protection."
She was irritated at herself for not being able to read Derakor, more so because she couldn't tell whether he was crafty, or whether he really was that honest and genuine. She decided to keep an eye on him, for now.
The giant was unsettling. Yes, he was enormous, but he seemed a little simple-minded as well - or was it just his primitive way of speaking that made her think that? Again, he seemed friendly, and she suspected if she were to work with this man, she'd have to be careful of his apparent absent-mindedness moreso than any malicious intent. When he adressed her as "small woman-man", she couldn't help but chuckle. "Well, Myrdul of the People, I am Joanna the Watchful. Are we to strive together, then?"
Shonden smiled in appreciation of Joanna's boldness with her faith. He tapped his symbol and bowed. "Good fortune and abundance shine on our endeavor."
In a way, Joanna reminded him of his mother so mamy years before; so strong and confident in her faith that it carried her in all things. Shonden would be pleased to travel at the side of this woman.
For the others, the young paladin felt a thrill of adventure and providence to find such diversity of character.
Myrdul nods in agreement with Joanna, "We strive together. Dis will be good. Very good!" As the salutations come to a close, Myrdul finds himself examining each of these small men more closely, wondering which one of them will reveal the secrets of their kind, of their uncanny small men abilities. The large barbarian allowed the grin on his face to stretch even farther, as thoughts of conquering and uniting the People under his banner filled his ambitious mind.
As the PCs are talking they notice an attractive woman with long black hair start to make her way towards them.
"Welcome, I am Svetlana, you must be the guards we were promised. I was hoping for more but you look more than capable. Please come in I have prewed a nice warm stew for everybody and some wine in the main hall please this way."
As the PCs enter the outpost the see a middle aged, slightly overweight man on the room top of the nearest building to their right with a hammer in his hand mumbling to himself.
Joanna picks up the pack at her feet, shoulders it, and follows Svetlana without a word. She casts a quick look at the man on the roof, and lets her eyes skim over the area in general, trying to take in details.
Myrdul, as is his way, takes this odd acceptance in stride as the dark-haired woman addresses them. "We are here to strive... as guards?" he says brokenly as he follows quickly after her for the aforementioned food. When he see's the heavy man on the rooftop wielding the hammer, he calls out to him excitedly, raising the immense Krasa high in one strong arm, "Yes my friend! A small krasa for a small man! Dis is good!"
Diplomacy Check -
Shonden shouldered his pack and grabbed up the reins of his horse. "Greetinngs, I am Shonden Entbriar of Lankemshire. Begging your pardon, Mistress Svetlana, but we are here as part of the Charter to explore and settle the Green Belt. However, if you are in need of service, I'm sure we can be of assistance. It is part of the charter - of course - to deal with bandits wherever possible"
Shonden smiled in the direction of the man with the hammer, offering a wave of greeting.
Derakor falls in behind Shonden and shares Shonden's sentiment. They weren't here to act as guards for an outpost, they were here to clear the region of bandits and to make sure it becomes habitable. He wondered what her reaction would be on Shonden's words. Besides, having to look at her hardly was a punishment. Although, black hair really wasn't his thing. Blonde, red or chestnut brown. That was more like it.
Lost in thoughts, he found himself nearly bumping into Shonden's back. For those who looked, they saw him shaking his head real fast for a moment as he shook out the distracting thoughts.
"If there is a community that needs protecting before our task can get underway, then so be it." Joanna speaks as if adressing the party behind her, but never lets her eyes wander from their smooth sweeping motions. "I'm sure we won't be here too long. We can't be the only able-bodied people in the region. But, if they need our help first, then we should help."
Myrdul half-turned as the others bring up the nuances of the charter, and seeks to clarify, "Den... we are not guards, but we help. Yes?"
Shonden smiled broadly and reached over to pat the mountain of muscle on the shoulder. There was something about the warrior that reminded him of the stories mother would tell of the homelands of her Ulfen heritage. "Yes, Myrdul, we should help. But let's hear more about they're situation. This way we know how best to help."
"You say you're expecting guards, what kind of trouble have experienced?"
|
|
After arriving at the outpost and being greeted by Svetlana, Kalima looks to her and says, "A pleasure to meet you Svetlana. I am Kalima Raustald, an adventurer hired by the Office of the Regent of the Dragonscale Throne to deal with bandits in the region. If you do not mind though, I would appreciate the chance to retire to your inn. I have traveled far to be here and would appreciate a chance to sit down and have a good meal. I have gotten rather tired of eating these foul tasting field rations."
When she arrives in the inn and tavern, she meets with the other adventures who have already gathered there and addresses them (See previous post for what she says).
Myrdul greets the newcomer, an attractive "Hullo, small woman-man Kalima of Taldor. We are now learning that we are not to be only guards. Do you have zis charter paper? It means zat together, we shall strive." his expression is serious throughout, trying to impress upon Kalima the seriousness of the goings on.
|
|
Kalima gives a smile to Myrdul White. Sure he appears to be a rather dull witted fellow but she could tell by his looks and equipment that he's a proficient warrior. She replies to his question saying, "I would not consider myself a guard per say, good sir. My current occupation would more appropriately be called an Adventurer. From what I have heard it is the most profitable trade that the common folk can aspire to and therefore I have sold my services to the Regent of the Dragonscale Throne in exchange for fair reward for my services. I assure you I have the charter on my person and am well qualified to assist in the endeavors that we will be assigned to. Well so much as it does not involve too much work on the physical labor side that is."
Kalima takes a seat at one of the tables and gives a relaxed sigh, "Aaaah, it is good to finally get a chance to sit down. The wilderness does stretch rather far does it not?"
Myrdul listens carefully to the words tumbling out of Kaima's mouth, missing some of them as he watches her mouth power on and on, OH!. "Zis is good." he says in agreement with whatever she was saying at the last, "As for wilderness, it is big. Bigger zan the tallest mountain." He puts the heavy end of the massive Krasa on the ground, leaning it against the wall, "Tell me, Kalima of Taldor, are castles all being as big as zis?"
Myrdul looks at blainkly her for a moment, not comprehending, and then shakes his head as he realizes, "No. No. Not castles as big as mountains, castles as big as zis place here. Wilderness is bigger zan mountains, I am saying." and pats the nearby wall with a meaty hand. " You are making great joke Kalima! Castles as mountains..." he seems quite entertained by the verbal jousting.
|
|
Kalima misinterpreting the man's words before now has an idea of what he was saying to save face she says, "Oh yes, quite a jest indeed. Ha ha ha. But as for the real answer to the question, there are far grander places in Taldor than this quaint outpost. In Taldor we have castles that are so large that their walls could hold an entire town. This outpost is but a dot on the map compared to them."
The large barbarian, squints his eyes suspiciously at Kalima, the weathered lines of his deeply tanned face emphasized even more by the expression, "Do you jest again wiz me? An entire town. An En-tire town, inside one of your castles? By ze spirits" When he repeats the emphasis about the size of the castles he uses his hands to try and capture the scale of what your suggesting, he hands continuing to expand in time with the repeated question, until his heavily scarred arms are spread as far as they can go, tendons and muscles straining. His mind obviously struggling to comprehend the size of such marvels. "Zat is very good, Kalima."
Abruptly he drops his hands back to his sides, "Small woman-man Kalima. Before, you say 'Adventurer'. Please, what zis means?"
Joanna[\b] As Joanna scanns the small outpost, she see's very little sign of much use and it appears to her that her and her companions are the only other people in here. She notices a stable to her left, a small building to her right with some tables and a fire pit in front and then a large building which she guesses is the main lobby, where they are headed.
[b]Shonden As Shonden waves to Oleg he see's that Oleg raises his lip, in what appears to be digust, and shakes his head and goes back to work.
"Oh, my mistake, my husband and I are expecting gaurds from Brevoy to help protect our trading post. We have been having trouble with bandits, but please let me go get my husband." Svetlana, seemingly disappointed, quickly turns and rushing out the door of the main lobby.
A few short minutes later, Svetlana enters the room, "everybody this is my husband Oleg."
A tall (5'10), slightly over weight man enters the room. He has a large bulge in his lip and spits as he enters the room. He rubs his balding head and spits again, "if your not here to gaurd our outpost and on some damn adventure, then you can stay in the bunkhouse for one night, 5sp a night and you best be out of here tomorrow when the bandits come, I don't want no damn trouble from..."
Before he can finish Svetlana elbows him in the side, "please excuse my husband, it has been a rough couple of months. You see the bandits come every month, an hour before sunrise, on the first day of the month () to take their tax collection from us and if we don't pay they threaten to burn our outpost down and kill us. Please will you help you can stay the night for free if you do?" Svetlana begs the group as she fights to hold tears back.
Oleg huffs and throws his arms up, "I don't got much to offer right now, but you can stay and eat for free tonight and take whatever you want from their corpes and what you don't want I will buy from you at a fair price?"
|
|
Kalima replies to Myrdul White saying "What can be said about an adventurer, but it is a profession unlike no other. An adventurer is someone who moves beyond their lot in life and travels in the wide world to gain power, prestige and wealth. An adventurer is someone who does tasks for exuberant rewards, delves dungeons for wealth and treasure and of course defeats evil monsters for fame and glory. It is a profession where heroes and heroines are made."
She then looks to Oleg and says "Greetings Oleg. While I am not here to "Guard" your for say, I am here to deal with your bandit problem. Thus I believe free lodging would be a start to cover the payment for my services. As for what we take from the bandits, it is ours to keep as payment for this service. After all, worthiness precedes reward and I will ask nothing until the task of ousting these bandits has been accomplished."
She then looks to Svetlana and says, "Fear not madame, I'll deal with these bandits when they arrive. They shall trouble you no longer."
Shonden frowned at the response from the man on the roof, not sure what to make of it. He'd have to think on the why's of his reaction. Walking Max into the stables, he saw to the horse's needs and then headed into the main lobby of the outpost. There he hoped to get more answers to what was afflicting the residents.
Something tugged at to Shonden's mind, something in the way the man on the roof had looked at him in response to the greeting. A jaded feeling in the man's bearing akin to Shonden's father on occassion.
Kalima's words stirred in Shonden's mind.
He looked to the others. "Part of the Charter explains we are to deal with bandits and other criminals. I would say those who passed through here prior to this day were doing a disservice to their sworn oaths." Shonden looked to the proprietors, solemness in his tone. "I pledge my bow and spear to the defense your lives and this outpost. This I swear before the stern and mighty gaze of Old Deadeye."
At first hearing about the bandit, the smile reflecting his enjoyment of his conversation with Kalima fades slowly from his face, but Svetlana rushes from the room too quickly to gather additional information.
When the couple returns together, Myrdul becomes very uncomfortable as Svetlana breaks down, looking to her disturbingly cowed husband and standing to his full height, "Oleg! I am Myrdul. We, all of us here, are striving togezer to be more zan guards! Zese bandit will come, and zen we kill zem all! Tell me zis is not a good plan! Listen to small men Kalima and Shonden, a very good plan!"
He smiles widely at the two, and the others if/when they speak up, glad and relieved he'd fallen in among such warrior-like people. For a long part of his journey he'd fretted about running amok of cowards and children, but clearly this group was turning out be the former! At least in spirit, Myrdul reminded himself to withhold full judgement until witnessing their skill in true battle.
Derakor stands in the back, scratching his head with an amused but ultimately puzzled look on his face. What had just happened? Apparently everyone was ready to throw themselves into the fray without investigating matters a little further. Perhaps the man had paid for this fort with loaned money and had made promises he couldn't keep. Perhaps he had wronged them in some other manner that was frowned upon in Brevoy.
"I'm sorry we have to meet under such dire circumstances, Oleg and Svetlana. My name is Derakor Geralvi and just like my companions, I too have been sent by the Swordlords of Brevoy to remove the bandit blight from these lands. Would you mind if I ask you some questions?"
If they agree, Derakor sits down at one of the tables to show that they were past the point of being strangers - they were now working together. He'd then proceed,"First, when did you establish yourselves here and raised this fort? Second, why start a business here? And thirdly, when did the problems with these bandits start? Do you know any of them by name, even if it is most likely a nickname? I suppose you don't know where they reside. I'm sorry if I am asking too much, but the more we know.."
He then kept an eye on the both of them, hoping his disarming smile would goad them into opening up a little.
Shonden chastised himself for not having thought the matter through more carefully. He'd just given his pledge to two perfect strangers without even asking more about what was going on! What a fool!
He nodded thanks towards Derakor and then frowned at his own ignorance. The young paladin leaned in closer for was eager to hear the proprietors' responses to Derakor's questions. In fact, Shonden studied Oleg a bit more closely, coming to a conclusion that he'd have to be more careful in the future.
|
|
Kalima says, "It appears we are all here to do the same task. The advantage we have is that we know when the bandits are coming. We need to decide if we will engage the bandits on the outskirts of the fort or if we will attack them at the outpost, either using the walls for defense or letting them inside and set up an ambush."
Myrdul was mortified and very shamed for Darakor's lack of conviction and honor. Did the small man not hear?! A chance for honor and glory in battle! A small woman-man was crying before his very eyes and still he talks and questions like an Elder!!
His face burning with the shame and anger of watching Derakor balk at the prospect of battle, Myrdul began to open his mouth to bring the small man to an understanding of his error. But he froze suddenly, mouth half-open like an panting dog, This was it! he realized. The very purpose of his leaving his the People, his friends and loved-ones behind, was staring him full in the face and he'd been about to ruin it all by letting out the fire in his belly. Stupid Myrdul, now keep your mouth closed and listen and learn! and whatever the barbarian had been about to say goes unheard, softly closing his mouth as he leans back, and watches silently. He crosses his hands and leans against the wall, his fingers idly tracing along the many scars on his hands and wrists.