"Well she isn't a fully trained assassin, and who would want to hire her after her failure becomes known? I agree with Idris's idea. She is willing to give us information for freedom. She never said when that freedom had to come, and we can wait until after the Stag Lord has been dealt with, and we might not even have to worry. If she really came from Daggermark then those assassins might kill her for failing in her mission, and using their name."
"Does it go too far? What if we perished cause we didn't have the information? What if this could save the life of any of us? Perhaps the life of your long-lost husband? She may know something about that too. She is an evil assassin and will not change in a night. We are worrying about bigger things. Greater things. Now, if you are worrying about deceiving a criminal who is going to die anyway, I suggest we all go back home cause we're not prepared to deal with what's ahead of us. The ambush have nothing to do with it, but we need the information, and cannot set her free."
"Lying to her carries the risk that she notices and that when she notices she will not tell us anything. Would you risk all of the information on the chance that she doesn't notice that? Why not just do Idris's idea and take her to Oleg's with the order being to execute her if we don't come back? Then we don't have to worry about if what she tells us is true or not because she knows that she will die if we die, so she will be more inclined to tell the truth. We won't be setting her free right away, but if we agree to the deal will you go back on it just to kill her?"
"First, I don't recall Oleg's Watchpost having any kind of cell. Second, we will lose more than a week going back there and returning, so they might have more time to prepare against us. Third, don't underestimate my lying capabilities. Next time I say something to an enemy, just assume I am lying and play along, instead of using your sensitive skills." She throws her hands up. "But go with whatever you decide. If she goes free and seeks revenge the blood will not be on my hands."
"Kesten is flexible. He can keep her tied up in the stables or something." Idris nods at Kivan, appreciating his support. "I also agree with Pretty that we should show a united front in the face of criminals like this. And I would like to get back to the hot springs so I can get these mud-soaked clothes off and soak in the hot water again for a while."
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Seraphina coughed a laugh, "Three, actually, considering I did suggest taking her to Oleg's myself. But I like Idris suggestion too, if she knows her fate may hang in the balance, she will be all the more likely to be as forthcoming about the Stag Tyrant as possible."
She turned to Pretty, her look somewhat apologetic, "Don't be disheartened, Pretty. I know that you could not possibly have survived as long as you have if you were not as cautious and practical as you are, but we must come through this and still be able to recognize ourselves when it is done." Her voice cracked on the word recognize, and she lowered her face as she blinked back the wetness that came to her eyes.
She's both exhilarated and terrified by what she is becoming. She is afraid she's losing a portion of her humanity in trade for every bit of draconic power that she gains. Even though she is sure the power is worth the price, she is terrified of what the ultimate cost will be.
She was smiling when she looked up again, "Besides, we must return to Oleg's to retrieve our ordered supplies before we ready for battle. Alright, I suppose it is time to let her know the good news, eh?"
Sera turned and approached the bound half-orc with a much friendlier manner than before, claws safely tucked away. "Well, you do make a compelling case. You shall keep your life in exchange for the information you have promised to give us as well as what we have seized from you. When we release you, you will have enough supplies to take you far from our lands. If you ever return without our leave, we will kill you on-sight. You will remain our prisoner until our business is concluded. Are we agreed?"
"We have a long walk back to camp and a lot to discuss. Lets get you on your feet and head back. If you've ruined our stew with your little stunt, dinner will be late. So tell me, what did the horned brigand tell you about us? Also, what is your name?"
Idris retrieves her sword and the orc's bow as they return to camp. When she gets there, she heads for the hot spring first, stripping off her filthy clothes and soaking in the water to warm her chilled flesh, then using the water to wash her clothing off as best she can.
She comes back to camp wrapped in her cloak, which, as a magical garment, has cleaned itself, and lays her clothing on a bush to dry.
Pretty shakes her head at Sera, not believing in the woman's behavior, but doesn't say anything. Since they decided what to do, she gets her stuff and appraises the half-orc's equipment to split among them.
"Yes Maja, the fey helped me by messing up with the Orc's vision. They threw some faint light over her so I could see where did the arrow came from. I own them one, for now. But I got some ingredients to our stone soap!" She smiles.
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The assassin nods as you help her up. "Your terms are acceptable. I will tell you all I promised, and will not attempt escape. My name... is Bara gra-Sharga."
On the way back to your camp, Idris can indeed retrieve Bara's falchion and bow, but her dueling sword seems to have grown wings and flown off.
Upon returning to camp, your group is treated to a minor spectacle. Illuminated by the dull glow of your neglected campfire, a boulder of moderate size has appeared in the midst of your stuff. Idris' sword has impaled the monolith, sunk halfway down the length of the blade into the rock. Draped around the hilt is a ribbon-festooned scroll that proclaims "whoso ever draws me from this stone is rightful born Lord of this land".
The sword slides out of the rock with no effort whatsoever. The rock doesn't even feel solid. As you pull the blade out, a faint trumpet fanfare sounds, and beams of amber light play across you from a couple feet above your head. A shining crown materializes from this nimbus of light and floats gently downward to settle imperceptibly on your head. This persists for a few moments before the illusion unravels and you're left standing in front of a lump of dirt and mud, distant laughter in your ears.
"The Stag Lord's fort lies on the shores of a large lake to the south east. If you follow this river we are near, it feeds into this lake three miles west of the fort."
With a piece of charcoal, she scratches a map onto a piece of parchment, then flips it over and starts to detail the fort.
"The fort itself is a ruined stone structure of dubious defensive value. It sits on top of a large mound of earth that presents a steep slope to attackers. The Stag Lord's men have built a wooden palisade around the ruin and on top of the hill. They made mention of some hazard buried in the hill itself. They would not tell me what it is, but told me to stick to the path to the main gate to avoid it. The fort is two stories tall, and the Stag Lord claims the upper levels as his quarters. His men live on the ground floor."
"There are fifteen soldiers quartered in this fort at any given time. A loose network of fighters comes and goes according to missions that the Stag Lord hands out. Most of them are of little threat, but his officers seem competent. His second-in-command is named Akiros, a middle-aged man. The other officers are Auchs, a big dumb brute, and Donovan, a creepy fellow from Ustalav."
"The Stag Lord himself is a mystery to me. He has an impressive physique but bears a great many scars and signs of old injury. He favors the bow and fights bare-chested. I have never seen him without his helm on. It is a fearsome construction that features the horns of a great elk. I suppose this is from where he draws his moniker. I do not know his true name. He seeks to build a free kingdom of bandits to strike at weak territories in the River Kingdoms."
"I will now speak of the weakness I observed in the Stag Lord. The man is a hopeless alcoholic and is frequently in his cups. He is cruel at his best, but descends into savagery when drinking. He beat one of his soldiers dim-witted after catching him drinking from his stash. The camp which you destroyed contained a shipment of potent alcohol which he was anticipating. A rider survived your assault and reported the happenings to the Stag Lord, including the loss of the alcohol. The Stag Lord beat the man within an inch of his life for losing the drink, then fed him to his pet. Had I mastery of poisons and the desire to kill the man, a tainted bottle of whiskey would be surely downed. If you wish to strike at him, arranging for large quantities of alcohol to fall into his hands will render him less fearsome in combat."
"Ah, yes, his pet. The man keeps a caged Owl-Bear on hand, in a cage of iron bars. The man seems to enjoy tormenting it, and uses it as a source of terror to force compliance from his underlings."
"The soldiers stand a constant watch on the walls, two pairs of sentries that circle in opposite directions around the palisade's perimeter on a wooden walkway. The current challenge is 'What pricks Abendego's Eye?', and the response is 'Besmara's slippery nipple'."
"I will of course answer any other questions you may have."
"Gorum's balls -- where in the hells did I put that sword? F$~# and damnation!" Giving up, Idris sticks the falchion in her belt for now.
Idris's mouth drops as she sees her blade in the apparent place of honor. She wonders, "Should I take it out? Will that make me... this is a prank right? It won't actually make me a lord will it?" After a moment she takes the sword out, blinking at the incongruity of the illusionary crown appearing on her filthy, bedraggled head.
She stares at the other women, and Kivan, for a moment, then laughs heartily before heading off to bathe and wash her clothing.
"How long is any given password valid?"
After they question the orc, Idris will give her strips of cloth and clean boiled water if she wants to dress her own wounds, under careful watch of course, and also offers to keep watch with an arrow on the bow if she wishes to bathe in the hot spring.
Kivan glares at his bedroll.
"Well I sure do hope that nothing like a skunk has gotten into my bedroll. Would be a real shame."
Kivan picks up a stick and throws it at his bedroll while staying a fair distance away with the wand still out.
"Yes! We finally have a winner!" She says, also laughing of the coronation.
With Kivan acting like a brave man toward his bedroll, Pretty gets beside the Elf, taunting him. "So, are you going to kill a dragon there or something?" She pauses by his side, watching the bedroll in silence.
"Are there any source of lights on the outside? Can we approach undetected in the darkness?"
Kivan backs away from Pretty.
"Stay away from me I don't care to be in whatever you are planning. This is between me and the skunk and I don't want you pushing me forward."
Pretty once more draws close, easing the Elf's worries.
"I'm just trying to protect you, in case whatever is there come closer, Kivan. Why are you so scared? Are you afraid of women?"
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"A pass phrase is generally good for a week or two. Old pass phrases are accepted under greater scrutiny - those returning from afar may be one or two changes behind. I do not believe that there are any more bandit encampments in the area, but groups have been sent into the River Kingdoms, southward towards Mivon, and north towards Brevoy. I was not meant to overhear their tasks but the Stag Lord is sloppy when drunk, and not at all attentive to those lurking under tables."[/]b
Bara chuckles darkly and continues:
[b]"Most of these missions were for making contacts in thieves' guilds and with assorted crime lords. The Stag Lord usually offers a sanctuary for those who need a remote hideout while heat dies down, in exchange for access to fences and intelligence about trader movements. He made one odd request: That the men locate and obtain scholarly books on the subject of nymphs and dryads. Their silver was seized from the kobold tribe whom you have befriended. The walls are lit at night by torches."
Bara accepts your offer of medical supplies, washing in the warm river before applying them. She does not appear to be at all modest, and her form is as lithe and agile as her earlier acrobatics would suggest.
The bedroll continues to rustle about from within.
Pretty taunts Kivan a bit more.
"So, brave Knight. Are you killing the dragon to rescue the princess or not?"
Kivan will continue to throw sticks at the bedroll until something comes out.
"We should head back to Oleg's immediately. Our new gear is probably in. I wish there was a spell you could cast, Kivan, to just make our weapons and armor better. Maybe we can make better time if we push the horses?"
"No time to talk about magic. Bedroll is calling out to its fellows. Immediate termination is preferred. Also, choosing not to explore will save us time."
Kivan will continue to throw sticks at his bedroll as he speaks.
"I bet 5 gold pieces that Kivan is not brave enough to go take a look on what's in his bedroll..."
Kivan tried of the games raises his hands and calls upon a little bit of magic, and then the sounds of hounds fill the air.
Seraphina smiles and laughs over Idris' crowning. "See there! With the love of the natives to support you, there is no telling the heights to which you might rise." She knew it was probably more jest than anything, but there was always a grain of truth in every joke and saw the prank as a very encouraging sign.
She watched Kivan and Pretty as they scrutinized Kivan's bunk. She suspected it was something she wouldn't want to be too close to, and edged away, but tried to stay within about 30 feet, just in case.
Sera gives the half-orc a sideways glance when she mentions befriending the kobolds. "Hmm, so Bara, how long have you been watching us? And what does the drunkard already know about us?"
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Kivan's cantrip has the desired effect. Whatever is in the bedroll squirms and shakes harder for a moment, then finds the exit. As he surmised, the fuzzy, striped shape of a skunk appears in the throat of the bedroll, pieces of trail rations hanging from its mouth. Panicked by the baying hounds, it tears off for the forest, trailing crumbs and fur behind it. Aside from the mess, Kivan's bedroll is intact and non-sprayed. It's a true mystery how food and a skunk came to be in your belongings, though!
"I have been following you since you left the Levetons' home these six days past. I see from your reaction that my deduction about you and the kobolds is correct. I saw no other reason why you'd share your camp with one. Fortunately for you, the Stag Lord knows relatively little about you. The man who escaped you at the Thorn River gave a somewhat accurate physical description, and related how you were presumably to blame for the lack of 'taxes' from the trading post. The man was hopelessly addled by the beating he received, and you have captured me, so the Stag Lord's intelligence stops with that. If you attempt to gain entrance by a ruse, you will likely need some form of disguise."
Pretty pretends to be all scared with the little skunk, which will likely fool the poor wizard again: "OH MY GOD!!!! Is that a dragon! Oh god protects us!!! But then she laughs about it and it's clear for everyone that she is not. Well, everyone but the wizard, maybe.
Pretty looks sad. The half-orc woman looks able enough to talk her way out of most situations, and so she is lost in thought as to how did she get into this kind of life. Anyway, she focus on the task at hand. "And how does he control the owlbear? Brute force or some other ability? If we let it loose over the camp it might make some hell of a mess, right?"
"Have I said that I love you Maja?"
Kivan examines his bedroll to just make sure that no surprises have been left behind by the skunk, and if the bedroll is clear he will clean it, and then go off to the hot springs for a nice bath.
"Well, I won't say it would not help, but a large party would call more attention, while if just the few of us it would be easy to sneak in and get rid of a couple guards."
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Location: Hex S2 (Plains, Oleg's Trading Post)
Date: 27 Gozran, 4710 Absalom Reckoning
Temperature: 41° F
Weather conditions: Overcast, No Wind
Food: 29 days' supply (1/3 bacon)
The rest of the night passes uneventfully, without further trouble from pesky fey pranks or lurking assassins. In the morning, you rise before dawn in order to steal a march on the sun and set off for Oleg's as quickly as possible.
Riding a horse for an entire day without using your hands is a daunting task, so you're forced to unbind Bara's hands. As promised, she makes no effort to escape or slip off during the day.
You eschew your normal mapping pace in favor of riding hard and non-stop for Oleg's trading post. The forest limits your speed somewhat - wouldn't want to gallop into low branches, after all - but you make good time and ride on with determination. The horses begin to suffer from their exertions as you press forward past the normal point of stopping to make camp. Their riders begin to tire as well from the long day in the saddle. Just as you start to lag, Maja performs a brief ceremony and washes away the stiffness, saddle sores, and exhaustion of a long, hard ride with the soothing mercies of her faith.
You emerge from the forest in time to see the last hurrah of the sun dipping below the horizon. Long limbs of crimson and amber play out across the cloud cover, creating an effect not dissimilar to sunlight coming through stained glass. By the time you navigate to the Trading Post, the sun has fully set and the land is bathed in darkness.
These days, you can see the Trading Post from quite a ways off. Previously, a single solitary torch would fight a losing battle against the utter darkness of the countryside. Now, no fewer than ten torches top the structure, evenly spaced to shed pleasant light around the walls and warmth for those atop them.
It is in the light of these torches that you see a gathering as you approach. Kesten Garess stands armored and cross-armed in front of the closed gates of the trading post, facing down a mounted and cloaked rider and small company of ten footmen. Kesten's soldiers are posted on the palisade walls. Nobody has weapons drawn, but the situation is obviously tense. Artus, Kesten's sharp-eyed lookout, notes your approach and several of the footmen turn to size you up. They're wearing coats of mail under rich purple tunics that bear a rampant stylized red dragon crest.
You ride into hailing range of the Trading Post, where Kesten raises an arm to halt you and hails you. "That'll do, strangers. Oleg's post is closed for the moment. You can make camp or move on, and I can talk further once this lass's run off."
The rider laughs. "There'll be no 'riding off' for this lass until I get what we've come for. You're obstructing official business, Garess. Word gets back to Noleski that you're blocking a lawful warrant and it's the headman for you. The tiefling's wanted for fraud, theft, and manslaughter in New Stetven. I have the order for his capture right here - the crown demands you stand aside and open these gates!"
"The crown has no power here," states Kesten, coldly. "In case your geography's as lacking as your manners you may have missed the border crossing ten miles north."
"Oh, I'm sure that'll be a convincing argument in the Regent's court after I've hauled you back in chains for harboring a fugitive."
Kesten looks grave. "I have told you, on my honor, that your tiefling thief is not in this post. Don't let that tin badge go to your head, lass. You'll not last long as a deputy unless you learn when you're overextended. Don't think my House would stand idly by for your antics. You're a long way from New Stetven to be threatening highborn from a stronger family than yours!"
That seems to take the rider aback. She sits back in her saddle and turns to size your group up. She's a young lady, perhaps twenty years of age, with a sharp face, flashing blue eyes, and jet black hair cropped short in the fashion of warriors. She rides lightly armored and with an Aldori dueling sword sheathed across her back. Her eyes widen as she takes you in.
"Idris! My dear! I must admit, it does my heart good to see you here. I feared that long ago you'd have turned up dead at the Warm Embrace - you've always been a better whore than sword-arm, after all. And you turn up out here, of all places, accompanied by a devil-born b#%%* as well." She purses her lips, thinking. "My warrant's not exclusive. How about I take back your fiend? They do hang together, after all, like bats. I bet Surtova's investigators could wring that merchant's hideaway out of her, and maybe devise a remedy for stubborn old knights while they're at it! Idris, bring your devil b@*~@ here, she's under arrest."
Kivan glances over at Idris.
"You were once a wh&*e? Was this woman one of your regulars? She seems to know you very well. Maybe she was one of your fellow bedwarmers? Did you ever go full-on animal for her?"
Kivan pulls out his journal and begins to write in it as he asks questions.
Seraphina smiles widely at the filthy-tongued newcomer, her manner gracious, though her friends can see the smile is not her usual one. It is wider somehow, showing too many gleaming teeth and does not touch her eyes. "And who is your friend, Idris? Should we give her the benefit of the doubt and explain that she is speaking of a Charter Bearer in her Chartered Domain? I am Seraphina of House Medvyed. And I must offer my apologies, but you have no legal grounds to arrest my Chartermate. I'm afraid we can't allow her unlawful detainment, as we are responsible for legal matters here, you understand, of course?" She smiled again, watching and waiting for the woman's response.
Pretty would have kept in the shadows, but she was watching the half-orc closely, since seeing in the dark was her task, and thus she approached along with the group. She recognized the crest on the soldier's coats, but now it was too late for her to disguise. Fortunately, they were not looking for her, but the woman was disgusting. Pretty would have kept silent, were them inside Brevoy's domains, but here it was different, wasn't it?
She mentally debated about the consequences of being recognized here, but in any case this would turn bad so it did not matter much. She needed to be from another region, and her group knew basically nothing about her, although they did trust Pretty enough to defend her in case the worst happened. Her horse was probably too tired to flee, so it was not an option, but darkness would be her friend in a moment of need. The woman had recognized Idris and spoken to her, so they could not turn away to camp elsewhere either. And Seraphina just stated they were here following Brevoy's law, so they could not pretend to be just arriving for the first time at Oleg's watchpost. Pretty would have to have a conversation with their companions, if they lasted long enough.
Anyway, Kesten was holding his ground nicely, and the disgusting woman couldn't do anything about it. Sera had a very good point too, but the woman personally offended her. She would hold her ground, and proudly. If the woman felt offended and tried to take her by force, all the better. There would be one less Surtova member to get rid of later. And so she spoke, her voice cold and calculating every word while she provoked the woman for her not-so-legal act.
"Not exclusive, you say? So is that how the law works in Brevoy? You were searching for someone for several crimes, but then you find another person who has nothing to do with it and try to arrest her? You know what, you're just like an assassin from Daggermark that we were looking after." She points at the hooded woman who offended her, to guarantee there was no mistake. "In fact, I am sure you are the assassin! You're human, uses a light armor and a light blade, aside from walking around cloaked, matching the description perfectly." Her voice lowers a tone when she points her finger to the ground in front of her. "Thus why don't you bring your b*~+* ass over here like a good girl so I can execute you for your crimes?"
Idris recognizes the heraldry, and expects no trouble at first. When she hears the argument, however, and most importantly the voice, she narrows her eyes, and mutters, "Yalven."
When Joanne speaks, Idris grits her teeth, biting back her first, angry response. Out here in the wilds, the careful discipline of the academy has gradually faded in favor of a more anger and passion-fueled manner, but she is still able to control herself, for now, and so the others get to speak first.
In response to Kivan's questions, she whispers, "She thinks she's insulting me by calling me a whore, even though I'm sure she's spread her legs for more men than I have, back at the academy -- though two would be enough for that."
She chuckles a bit at the elf's unfamiliarity with human culture, and draws her sword in a salute to Joanne. She does not sheathe it afterwards.
"Joanne, so very good to see you well. The Galtan Gout giving you no trouble, then? As for arresting this fine woman, that's quite an amusing joke. I guess you've acquired a sense of humor somewhere then?"
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Joanne cocks her head to the side in response to Pretty and Seraphina's statements. "Charter bearer? Assassin? What in the world are you two squawking about? I suppose I shouldn't be surprised to find a Medvyed stumbling around the wilderness babbling nonsense. 'Tis what you're known for, after all. Very well! You've convinced me to haul you all in. Throw down your weapons and come peacefully, and I shan't even hood and gag you for the ride to New Stetven. Of course, should you prefer a... more expedient form of justice, I'd be happy to dispense it forthwith."
As she says this, she rests her hand casually on the hilt of her sword. Her King's Men detachment heft crossbows.
Kesten protests, scowling. "Lass, recall my caution against overextending yourself? Travelers, Deputies, there is no need to spill blood today."
"No, there isn't," agrees Joanne. "Which is why this lot of rabble is going to disarm peacefully and submit, and not earn the noose for attacking a Brevic Deputy."
Joanne turns to you as she says this. Behind her back, Kesten turns to the Trading Post and makes rapid fire hand gestures. He clenches his left fist, taps his right against it twice, points to two of his men and then Seraphina, then the other two and Kivan.
Pretty whispers in reply to the half-orc while the noble woman is making a gesture. "In a moment." Although the battle map is ready she thinks this will not turn bad after all. The woman is bluffing, overconfident, but she will back away. Pretty speaks with a voice loud enough for all the soldiers to hear. "You have no legal reason to arrest us, nor the power to do so since we are not inside Brevoy. You did not came here after us, cause we committed no crime. And we will give you no reason to think you can do so, by starting a fight. But, if you try to arrest us, we will defend ourselves and kill you. So quit the jest and move your sorry ass in search of whoever you're hunting." She is not being diplomatic at all! In fact, it seems she wants this to turn into a fight! She turns to the soldiers and adds. "You are seeing your commander has lost her mind. It would be wise to advise her for the best course of action now, before she drags you into her suicide plans."
"Seraphina, are you carrying our charter? Let's show it to her. Despite our history, I don't quite feel like these insults need to lead to killing. "
"But don't let her touch it, or she will tear it to pieces, the tricky b+!#$."
"I agree, let's not act too hasty here. This is obviously just a big misunderstanding, and we should be able to talk our problems out like a civilized race."
"But of course, Idris, never leave home without it. Just a moment..." She dismounts her horse and rummages in her saddle bags for a moment, taking the time to cast her Mage Armor as quietly as possible and making sure to leave the hilt of Bara's sword exposed and then leads her mount beside the half-orc, patting her knee as she goes by. "Opportunities abound, Bara, choose well." She gave her a wink and then walked to the front of her group holding her (normal, must be sure they're normal!) hands aloft so the soldiers can see she is unarmed. "Here it is, shall I read it for you?"
"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 Calistril, under watchful eye of the Lordship of Restov and authority granted by Lord Noleski Surtova, current Regent of the Dragonscale Throne."
"There, can you see the Regents Seal? As you can see, it is not nonsense which I babble. Now should you attempt to kidnap one or all of us, that would be the aforementioned "unlawful behavior", and we will be forced to act. Soldiers of Restov, think well before you take arms against us. We are here by right, and we will not be moved."
She then turned to the fool commander, her friendly facade now dropped, copper eyes flashing in the torchlight.
"Lady Yalven, I offer my last courtesy now. We have been in the wilds of the Stolen Lands for some time now, and honed our claws on the bandits and monsters of these lands. We have learned our lesson well. Cut off the head and the body will fall. It is you who has offended this day, and if you force our hand, it is you who will suffer for it!"