"I mean to send a message to Daggermark, Kivan. I do not believe they speak the language of mercy, do you?" She scoffed, shaking her head. "You may find my actions cruel, but I will give out what I judge appropriate to the recipient. If they stand behind me, I will give them protection. Beside me and I will give them my respect. But those who come against us and our people will receive the brunt of my wrath for they deserve no less! Pharasma will give them peace if they have earned it and I will face her unafraid when my time comes. But you are wrong if you think me merciless... if that were true, I would not have allowed the cur to die for hours yet!" The sorceress was still fierce in her rage, but despite the words she speaks, her eyes seemed to turn inward as she questioned herself. She felt sure that nothing short of ruthlessness would serve when dealing with such a dangerous threat as the Assassin's Guild, but as she gazed down at the gaping mess of the man's ruined throat and felt the cold fury that still burned within her... she wondered if she had gone too far.
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Seraphina’s manifested power eats away at the throat of the remaining assassin. The man lives for quite a while, until his lungs finally give out from blood and acid and the sorceress holds the ruined remnants of his neck between smoking hands
Pretty’s execution prompted little reaction from those not tied up and at your mercy, but this spectacle draws considerable reaction from the onlooking Fireblade initiates. Some are impressed, some are horrified, but this event will clearly be widely discussed…
Jantle nods. ”I will convey this to the Lord-Mayor. May Desna ease your road.”
The preparations for departure have been taken care of, and you are met at the gate by a wagon train that’s loaded, staffed, and ready for departure. A baker’s dozen of the heavy wood and iron wagons, piled high with crates, lumber, and barrels is arranged in a line outside of the city. Draft horses whinny and stamp in their harnesses, their gleaming hard muscles and smooth skin in sharp contrast to the solid lines and rough finish of their burden. At the rear of the procession are two smaller wagons, their sideboards flared out and beds sheltered under billowing canvas tops. Azur Brey rides about on a roan mare, directing preparations in his battered armor. The two Westwinder caravan guards stand next to the wagon train, dressed in leather armor with spear and shield. A teamster and a Restov guardsman occupy the driver’s bench on each wagon, passing the time with gossip and tobacco. All is in readiness for your return to your new lands.
Azur rides up alongside your group as you approach and offers a salute to Seraphina. ”All is in readiness, my Lady. I took the liberty of arranging covered wagon transport for the Westwinders, as we are in no condition to make another long trek and Restov’s teamsters are eager for a swift journey. We await only your command to depart.”
As you set out from the city, you pass a freshly constructed wooden gallows. The body of Anders, of Hawk’s Ridge, swings by the neck on a hemp rope. “ASSASSIN”, proclaims a painted wooden sign tied to his body.
The journey to Oleg’s Trading Post is uneventful, troubled by neither bandits nor insane cultists. Even the weather is cooperative: The days are warm enough to be comfortable with clear skies and low wind. Four days of travel pass smoothly before the trading post hoves into view alongside the run-down South Rostland Road. The gates are shouldered open by a huffing Oleg at your approach, but there’s not close to enough room within the Levetons’ walls for the entire ensemble so the teamsters pull the wagons into the same circle formation in which they’ve camped the past few days. The wagons, with chocked wheels, form a decent impromptu barricade to shelter your travelers from the wind and any attackers. As the Westwinders and teamsters are making camp, Oleg and Svetlana welcome you back to their common room.
After the bustling city streets of Restov and the opulent glamour of the Mayor’s Palace and Leifmoore Arms, the Levetons’ little common room seems achingly humble and plain. Still, there is an honesty in the rough-hewn walls and plain brick hearth that was lost in the gleam of gilt and marble in the hallowed halls of nobility. Home, sings every coal of the fire and peg in the wall.
”Well, welcome back,” says Oleg simply as he stokes the fire. Svetlana bustles about, the hem of her dress swishing against table and chair as she fills mugs with mulled cider. ”You’ve decided to settle down out in these parts, then?” she asks. ”I don’t suppose you’d be bringing such a large group for another mapping run!” As Svetlana passes by Maja she pauses, resting her hand against her stomach, and smiles gently.
”Nothing much came through while you were in town,” says Oleg. The broad-shouldered innkeep straightens from the fire and motions to Idris. ”Your orc friend took off south right after you headed east these three weeks ago. Said she’d wear out her welcome here, and you’d know where to find her. Other than that, just a band of mercenaries from the River Kingdoms headed to Restov. Quiet bunch, but they paid good coin for beds so I didn’t ask ‘em much.”
The expedition breaks camp once more, the ritual smoother and more practiced now than at the journey’s start. There is some murmuring amongst your settlers as the horses strain southward with the wagons and leave the road behind. ”Have heart,” you hear Azur say to comfort them. ”Our benefactors are fearsome warriors and magi, and have put all who would threaten us here to the sword already. A few days more and our work will begin on a new home, where we shall toil and grow in peace and prosperity for the rest of our days. Courage, for the end of the road is at hand!”
The South Rostland Road has suffered from decades of neglect, the long years turning smooth flagstone into muddy gravel. Still, it provided a relatively regular and level path on which to travel, and the going is much slower over the unmarked hills of your new lands. It takes a full five days of travel to reach the shores of the lake and the lonely ruined fortress that is your new home, and Desnus has long fled before Sarenith as the days peel away. The plains are in full bloom now. Grasses, flowers, and shrubs strain towards the sky with an almost palpable fervor. Mice, voles, and rabbits scatter before the hooves of your caravan, and a circling hawk seizes upon their flight to take several meals within your eyesight. At one point, a trio of wolves – young males banding together, not a full pack – lopes at a respectful distance from the expedition, interested in a meal but not willing to brave the throng of humanity in its pursuit.
Near sunset on the fifth day out of the Trading Post, you reach what was once the Stag Lord’s Fort and is now Haven. A thin finger of smoke stretches into the red sky from the ruined courtyard – someone has a campfire burning and has not bothered to take precautions against discovery.
"That might be Bara," Idris says hopefully. "That said, we should be cautious. Maybe someone should scout it out first."
"I'm sure we haven't seen the last of them. Better that they're dead than able to deliver more information on us to Daggermark. If we sent them to the city guard, they could've escaped or been let go."
With some regret, Milo packs his fine clothes that he'd been wearing about the city and dons the simple, sturdy garb better suited for life on the road. He helps with the horses, ensuring their harnesses are secured each morning and grooming them in the evening. Nix watches the wildlife, especially the wolves, with interest, but does not stray far from the caravan.
Nix can take a look. If it isn't Bara, and they spot her, they may think she's a lone wolf and not know that we're here." Turning towards the wolf, he points at the fort. "Quiet. Seek." Nix obediently slinks through the grass towards the fortification. Once she gets nearer, Milo watches through her eyes to see who is camping at the fort.
Kivan addresses Milo first not wanting to really talk to Sera at all after she mentions Pharasma.
"Killing the assassin's may have been what we should have done, but doing it so brutality doesn't actually send any message to Daggermark as they don't care about how we kill the men just how many we kill. They already threaten their assassins with worse fates if they run, so all Sera has done is indulge in her bloodlust."
Kivan steels himself to talk with a human as he turns to Sera.
"Do you truly believe that you showed that man any large amount of mercy?"
Kivan points at the three men still bound. "Ask them who they are more afraid of right now. You or Pretty, and that will tell you who was more merciful."
Kivan sighs as once again humans ruin his plans for the future.
As they take some time at Oleg's Kivan just sits to the side and pulls out his book on the summoning of demons hoping to calm his nerves while he reads through the pages of his art.
Kivan thinks it's probably Bara, but he decides to go ahead and armor himself with mage armor and go invisible before advancing to see who is in the fort.
Later that night, she found some time to speak with Pretty privately. "So I have an assignment for you, my Lady Spymaster." She beamed happily, clearly enjoying calling her friend by her new noble honorific, "The Lord Mayor has invited us to inquire into his acquaintances and associates. I would suggest beginning with Arvin Jantle, his gifted young Squire. I suspect there may be more to that story."
Pretty seems annoyed with something, and decides to address it now rather than later. "I know you only want to honor me, Sera, but please, from now on, be careful not to use that title anymore. A secret is not a secret if it is shared, and no one can work as a real spy if everyone knows what that person does. Of course we are alone, but you've probably heard someone saying that walls have ears, right? Just remember how the assassins found us last time, listening to Svetlana's convesation." "Just call me by name, if you please, and if anyone asks, tell them I'm a counselor in economic affairs. I already show myself too much, but that's gonna change." She waves a hand and goes back to the subject you started. "But please develop your request a little further... Are you saying he doesn't trust Jantle?"
On the day that follows the Ball, Pretty will take a walk around town, looking for Henna. She wants to invite her to come with them to their new town, although she doesn't want to invite Devil Man because in her mind there is no good spot for him to work at the moment. He didn't really seem like the farmer type, but maybe she could teach Henna a thing or so so they could keep the city's treasury in a good shape. The rogue will also use this time to inquire around about Jantle, and find out what do the locals say about him.
Pretty was about to give Kivan his second elbow of the day, since he was bothering Sera with his regular nonsense comments, but the last argument made her freeze. The rogue always thought that she was the maleficent of their group, and to realize that, indeed, right now the bandits were much more afraid of Sera than her, was kinda confusing. And what was even worse, she agreed with Kivan that her killing method was pointless, since now there were only thugs watching. Could it be she is getting mad? So Pretty just turned her back to the solved crime scene and pretended it was none of her business, which was better than speaking up her fears.
Pretty makes a poker face when they passed the dead assassin, and made no comment at all.
Pretty shakes her head to Idris. "Bara was never so careless. She is being hunted by the assassins, and she knows it. Bara would at least be on top of the structure watching us, and she could see a large group such as ours from miles away." She looks again at the smoke coming up. "This can only be a trap. And they have already spotted us."
"Good point, Pretty. I guess I'm just really anxious to see her again and I'm engaging in wishful thinking." Idris draws her sword, cautiously. "This might be nothing -- a traveler using the ruins to take shelter. But for the sake of the safety of everyone, we must assume that Pretty is correct. Prepare for battle, everyone!"
Pretty seems annoyed with something, and decides to address it now rather than later. "I know you only want to honor me, Sera, but please, from now on, be careful not to use that title anymore. A secret is not a secret if it is shared, and no one can work as a real spy if everyone knows what that person does. Of course we are alone, but you've probably heard someone saying that walls have ears, right? Just remember how the assassins found us last time, listening to Svetlana's conversation." "Just call me by name, if you please, and if anyone asks, tell them I'm a counselor in economic affairs. I already show myself too much, but that's gonna change." She waves a hand and goes back to the subject you started. "But please develop your request a little further... Are you saying he doesn't trust Jantle?"
Seraphina’s smile fell to a frown and then she pursed her lips into a pout. ”Oh very well… Spoil my fun, why don’t you?” She stuck her tongue out childishly and then sighed. ”Yes, fine, I will be more careful. I’m not precisely sure of the reason, but I believe I picked up on something… off. It might be nothing more than he is dissatisfied with the boy’s combat skills, but I think I sensed some hidden reason for bringing him up as his Squire and heir, perhaps. Arvin told us that he did not know how the Lord-Mayor became aware of him, but he also mentioned that his mother is ailing and he does not know his father. Perhaps there is a reason Sellemius feels obligated toward him?”
”I showed him the appropriate amount of mercy!” She thundered in reply to Kivan’s continued pressing once she had already answered him. Now she switched languages again, speaking in Sylvan in an attempt to make this conversation more private.
”Splendid, Azur! Good work. We will do what we can to ease their travels. Let’s be on our way!” Sera looked over her shoulder to the Mayor’s Palace one last time with a somewhat wistful smile. With the more recent scene of the assassin’s brutal death at her hands hovering close to her thoughts, the Ball and it’s more pleasant moments seemed long ago and far away, but she worked to summon them to mind as they set off from Restov.
But soon the happy memories had flitted away again as she recognized Anders on his gallows. So Pretty was right, it was death for them either way. She thought grimly, and found the realization brought her some comfort.
She found it somewhat odd that Pretty did not react to the scene at all, but then, it was what she had expected.
Seraphina stayed near the Westwinders, keeping a protective watch over them. She engaged them in conversation to help pass the time, inviting them to ask any questions they had or share any stories or songs from home that they enjoyed.
Ever since the morning following the assassin spoiled duel, she had been suffering from a sharp ache in her head, just above her temples. She had begun to worry something might truly be wrong and ask for Maja’s aid when she reached up to massage the painful area for some relief and encountered… something there. Her fingers probed curiously and her face registered some alarm for a moment as she realized what she was touching. There, hidden beneath her hair just above the temples on the sides of her head were the fresh new buds of horns. Carefully, she put her hand down and took hold of her reigns again, trying to look nonchalant as her mind raced at what this newest change to her physiology might mean. The timing seemed, worrisome, at the least. Perhaps there was something to Kivan’s accusations.
She was glad to see the Trading Post, a sort of comfort settled into her bones that she had not truly realized had been absent since they left. She greeted Oleg and Svetlana as old friends and even had a gift parcel prepared with a variety of exotic seasonings, teas and fancy pink salt. ”I thought you might enjoy some culinary adventuring, but go easy on these at first. They are quite spicy!” She said, pointing out some packages of deep orange and red powder.
”I suppose there has been no sign of Lord Garess and his Irregulars yet? So tell me about these mercenaries. Were they several men, two rather bury and accompanied by a woman? Yes, I think we met them too. Did they make any inquiries that seemed odd?” She was reluctant to reveal to the Levetons that they’d had assassins sharing their roof, but they needed to know the danger that loomed over them all.
Sera nodded her approval of Brey’s encouraging words, chuckling lightly at his grand description of their adventuring party. ”Indeed, do not fret, good people. The journey will be a bit rougher here without the benefit of the road, but soon it will be behind us.”
An enigmatic smile crosses her lips as if some internal thought has occurred to her that pleased her. But she made no effort to share it, whatever it was. Instead she whistled a light refrain and rode closer to the edge of the convoy, first near the hills and then the woods. She began singing melodically, first in Draconic and then in Sylvan. Explaining to anyone who asked that she was singing to the land and the trees, an old Medvyed custom.
Seraphina mimicked the tones she heard with her whistle and then sings out a secret message to both our kobold and fey friends, encouraging them to stay away from the group for now. If any who overheard her understands Sylvan and/or Draconic and questions her, she’ll explain (truthfully) that she is speaking to any fey who might be watching us pass, but won’t mention the kobolds just yet.
”We bring good people in need of a home,
They’ve suffered much hardship, long did they roam.
Hearken dear neighbors, our hidden allies.
We will speak soon, when the time is more wise.
Good neighbors we are and so we shall stay.
Cast off your worries, your fears we’ll allay.”
Sera agreed with Pretty’s reasoning as well, although Bara might have lit the fire if she had already seen who was approaching, it was better to prepare for the worst possibility.
”Sir Brey, make ready to defend the people! We might have trouble here.” She had been wearing only her travelling dress and cloak over the last several days so as not to distance herself from the people with expensive finery, but now she removed the richly ornate purple robe from her saddlebags and donned it for the first time. The fabric contracted as she fastened it and the weave seems to turn inside out, reweaving the purple cloth into a shimmering turquoise with brightly shining copper fastenings and embroidery. A circular symbol bearing the face of a proud Copper Dragon appeared on the back. Her eyes orbs of turquoise stone that seemed to look out from the image and survey those who looked upon it.
”Well, if we are expected, then it is time for a Grand Entrance!” With time to prepare, she began to weave her protective magics. Using her lesser metamagic rod of Extend, she raised her Shield and then put it away. Next she reached out for something she felt she'd had the ability to do for some time, but never tried. She called upon her blood to give her the eminence of her ancestor and she watched with rapture as the ground moved away from her and she grew to nearly 11 feet tall. Finally, she summoned yet more strength to augment her enlarged form and approached the Fort with her friends, ready for anything. She called out as they climbed the hill, "Hail the Fort! Who goes there?!"
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Henna isn’t hard to find. Although all races are welcome in the Free City of Restov, very few tieflings grace its fair streets. A few inquiries and a couple hours of walking later, you track Henna down sweeping the steps of a tavern. Her ragged travelling clothes are gone, replaced by a fashionable white blouse and dark blue skirt that swishes and spins as Henna goes about her chores.
”Oh, Hullo!” she greets you when you get her attention. ”So good to see you again! How’re you liking Restov? The people here are much nicer than New Stetven. Hardly anyone seems to care about my heritage. I owe you so much for breaking us out of that horrid cellar!”
It’s likewise easy to find opinions on Jantle. A fair portion of the city doesn’t care overmuch for the lad, wondering why one of the greatest swordsmen in Brevoy would take a scrawny lad with no particular skill at arms as his squire. None are too overtly hostile, but you get the sense that hundreds of swordlings would gladly replace Jantle at the drop of a hat. Aside from the jealousy, none have any real complaint. The guard thinks highly of Jantle, and mention him as a sprightly and dutiful boy who performed good work for them.
Azur nods his head at Maja’s compliment. ”We will need time to grieve,” he says, ”But the prospect of a fresh start will do much to help old wounds heal. I myself desire to turn loose my horse and not travel for some years!” The battered knight does seem to be in better spirits now. ”I owe you more than I can possibly account for, for taking us in to your new lands. I can only swear to serve you and defend it as best I can.”
Your return isn’t so hurried as to preclude visiting the eccentric hermit alchemist. Your horses are swifter than the wagons so catching up won’t delay progress, and at any rate you’ve got glassware to deliver.
Bokken’s hut seems entirely unchanged since you last viewed it, with a cheerful curl of smoke rising out of the chimney and several curtain walls of wooden gardens ringing the quaint structure. Mr. Wiggles watches your approach from the roof but doesn’t deign to alight to greet you. A grunting whine and the thwack of ringed tail on thatched roof alerts Bokken to your arrival and the old man shambles out to greet you.
”Emmy-saries o’ th’ King hisself!” he marvels to unseen onlookers as you approach. ”We caint pay th’ wheat-tax! There’s scarce enough bread t’last th’ winter!”
Svetlana appears to be in fine health. ”Oh, don’t trouble on my behalf,” she says, laughing. ”I’m not so far along as to be bedridden! We’ve talked about hiring some hands, especially as business is like to increase in short order with your town nearby. Oleg’s stubborn as always, but he might change his mind with a tot to keep him busy.” Svetlana’s eyes widen when gifted the spices. ”Oh, you shouldn’t have! Gosh, I’ve heard of this salt. Fancy stuff, mined from peaks in the Spine of the World Mountains. This can’t have been cheap, thank you so much!” Svetlana squeezes Seraphina in a quick hug before stashing the spices in her pantry.
Oleg scowls at Seraphina’s description of the Assassin party. ”Guess they found some trouble then. They didn’t trouble us none, but asked after your orc friend. I told ‘em I didn’t know her or where she was, but like as not they sussed that I was lying. They didn’t bring it up again, and they left towards Restov and not following her so I thought it well enough done. No Garess since you’ve been out, but I swear I can still smell his damn cigars!”
After a verse of Sylvan, an acorn from nowhere plops off Seraphina’s saddle by way of response. No oak trees stand within many miles of your position, but the agent of the acorn’s appearance remains unseen.
There is no response from the kobolds, but that seems their way.
The former Stag Lord’s Fort is indeed surrounded by a palisade wall and gate, making scouting difficult for Nix. The gate is down, and requires significant effort to lift without the benefit of the winch inside the fort. With some struggle and exertion, the gate is lifted, revealing the interior of your fort.
Not much seems to have changed since you last saw it. A campfire burns merrily in the old firepit, but no sign of its tender greets you. You see fresh bootprints in the soft and slightly muddy ground behind the gate. Someone has spent a good deal of time walking around inside your fort, and judging by the fact that only one print is found you judge them to be alone.
Idris helps Maya (or Milo) follow the tracks, with her sword always at the ready.
The rogue meets with Henna, and her determination falters for a second or two. First, because Henna seems to be handling her new life pretty fair. Secondly, because the girl could be an important source of information working in a tavern in Restov. Last but not least, there was no certainty about their future life in Haven. Things could go bad and then she would feel responsible for it. So yeah, better to ask questions first, she offer later. "Yeah! Nice to see you in this new fashion of yours! You look gorgeous. Be careful, hun? The men in Restov are really charming. I just came by to keep in touch with you. You see, we're leaving to build a new settlement south of here, and since I was worried about you I decided to stop by and... well, see how are you doing, you know... But it seems you're doing fine in here, hun? Listen, if you have any trouble, come to live with us. We actually have a spot available to do some registry and stuff like that, and maybe you will also like the place. Of course, there is not much to see now, you know... Anyway, I'm glad you're doing fine."
Later on Pretty will disguise as an old human woman who is acquiring information about Jantle because it seems her daughter is interested, or maybe even already involved in a relation with him, and as she has heard several rumors about rulers and how they treat the common folk she would like to understand this man more completely. Specially because he deals with those magic stuff, "which is obviously not holy, right dear?" Thus she will try to research a little bit more about the man, without drawing attention to herself, of course.
While still in Restov Pretty would like to acquire two pairs of Sanctified Rings, for future use.
Pretty does not go with the others, but waits to protect the convoy. She thinks at least some people should stay to show that, even tough the group has things to do, they are still protecting those people.
The lonely wolf blends into the shadows of the fort with weapons at hand, going around it to get access to the higher ground through the back staircase. She moves like a feather. For a moment Pretty gets afraid, thinking about what did they use as fuel for the fire, but then she focus on the task at hand.
Wanting to keep an eye on the caravan, Milo remains with Pretty. Nix wanders nearer to the hut, watching the raccoon's antics warily from outside Bokken's gate.
Nix paws at the gate, eager to continue inside on her mission. "Nix, I'll have to teach you to climb like that raccoon at Bokken's place," Milo grins as he pulls it open. He examines the footprints with Maja and Idris, attempting to make out who they might belong to. "So much for a surprise. If someone's here, they'd have to be deaf not to notice us."
Kivan refuses to play Sera's game and continues to discuss in common.
"Great, so now they will only attack us when they are sure they will succeed."
Tired of this discussion Kivan walks away to prepare for the trip unwilling to listen to any more attempted justification of such barbaric killings.
Kivan travels to visit Bokken not so much to meet him, but rather to get away from the sheer number of humans at the convoy.
Kivan just advances without too much worry since there only seems to be one person who has been there. He travels towards the basement since he wants to start setting up his things there.
Sera only glowered, more than happy to not speak on the subject any more.
”Oh no, Master Bokken. It’s Seraphina, we’ve brought you the glassware you requested, you remember? How are you feeling, sir?” A worry line creased her brow as she tried to determine if the old Hermit seemed worse this time.
Sera was pleased Svetlana liked the gift.
”I am glad they did not trouble you, my friend, but if they had suspected you knew where to find her, I fear it would not have been the case. You were overheard when you confided in Svetlana and they supposed they could find us more easily than they could find Bara. They were right, they just misjudged our ability to defend against an ambush. But they will not return to trouble anyone now.” She said with a finality that left no question as to their fate.
She smiled at Oleg’s grumbling over Kesten’s cigars as she glanced around at the homey woodwork and inhaled the scents of the room. ”Hmm, I think you might be right. Well, his tendency to offend without trying notwithstanding, I had hoped he and his men would be back by now. You should consider hiring on some security. The Lord-Mayor of Restov has granted us land and title, authority over these lands now and we have drawn the ire of Daggermark. More trouble will likely come our direction, you just make sure to stay out of it’s way if it comes here first.”
Seraphina held the gate until everyone was inside and then let it back down, trying to ensure their quarry would not have an easy path to flee. ”Come out, come out, wherever you are…” She called in a sing-song manner. ”You only get one chance to make a first impression, so make it a good one. You might not know this, but you have been squatting in our home. But that is not a terrible offence, simply make yourself known and we’ll have a nice calm talk."
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Henna smiles at you sweetly. "Oh, I seem to do ok wherever I end up. Nothing fancy, but I get by. That's intriguing that you're going to go and make a new town. If you'd like me to come along I'd be happy to help. I'm not bad with money and I certainly owe you a favor!"
Your inquiries provide you with only some information. Nobody knows who Jantle's father is. Jantle's mother's name is Elyssa Jantle, and she is prone to dizziness and fainting spells that make it difficult for her to work. When Arvin was ten years of age, the Restov Guard took him into their employ for the wage of ten copper pieces per week and a seat at their mess hall. When Arvin was fourteen years old, Lord-Mayor Sellemius abruptly and without explanation selected him as his squire, prompting no small controversy. Since then, the young man has rarely been seen outside his official duties. A comfortable house nearby the palace was purchased by Sellemius for Elyssa Jantle, and a member of the Mayor's guard stands watch by its door.
The House of Desna is happy to sell you a pair of sanctified rings.
"Eh?" says Bokken, squinting. The old alchemist rummages through a pocket and produces a pair of battered spectacles, which he plants on his bulbous nose. "oh, of course! My humble apologies, I do forget my manners upon occasion. Come in, come in! I've been quite productive in your absence!"
Mr. Wiggles is not swayed by Maja's offer of treats, and regards her with suspicious beady eyes, tail beating slowly against the roof.
The interior of Bokken's hut is just as disheveled as the last time you saw it. Finding a spot to place the glassware is challenging, but the table is clear enough to deposit the goods after Bokken moves a pile of fragrant herbs off its rough surface and onto his mattress.
"A-there she goes!" Bokken comments, looking with satisfaction at the glassware. "H'ain't been such a preddy liddle bit o' glass around here since me brother... since a long time! Now then, I've been fixin you up some right handy mixes... if'n I can find the damn things..."
Bokken rummages around his tiny but disheveled hut, producing impressive messes and slight dust clouds, but no potions. There's a thump from the roof, and moments later Mr. Wiggles trots through the door and makes a beeline for the hearth. The raccoon alights upon a wicker basket and stares at Bokken, who emits an exclamation and snatches up the basket with one hand. Mr. Wiggles runs up his arm and sits on his shoulder as Bokken reveals the neatly labeled contents of the basket.
"I've taken note of your specialty skills, and crafted two draughts which I believe should enhance your abilities to the fullest! Observe, each is labeled with your name and its effects!"
Oleg chuckles at Seraphina's words. "You do have a way of manhandling bandits and other ne'er-do-wells. Aye, we'd best hire some stout hands. If you're putting down roots there'll be a lot more traffic, and some of 'em are bound to be trouble."
Seraphina spots a lurking shadow atop the ruined roof of the fortress's upper level. Your gaze is plain and undisguised, and the shadowy figure laughs in a low tone when it sees it's been made.
With a sudden spring and a nimble roll, Bara leaps from the roof and stands before Seraphina. "Prey never looks up. You, obviously, are not prey. I thought you'd stick with looking as fierce as me with your magics, but I guess that's not enough - you have to get enormous too! I've been keeping watch for you. Nobody came by, just a few deer that don't look out as sharply as you do."
After addressing Seraphina, Bara saunters over to Idris and grasps you by the forearm. "Idris... it is good to see you." Then she stops talking and starts dragging you towards the stairway towards the former quarters of the Stag Lord.
"Indeed, Bara," Idris says, sheathing her sword and following the half-orc eagerly.
The rogue seems happy that Henna offered her help, although she finds it pretty weird that the woman know exactly what's the vacancy for, but she blames the gm for that and keeps along. "Yeah, well, I would like you to come with us. We could use a hand, at least in the beginning, and helping a place to get fully developed can forge strong roots, and maybe you will be able to call it your home. I cannot promise anything, tough, since a lot can happen. Will you come?"
As Kivan slipped the potion of Eagle's Splendor and Fox's Cunning into his bag he wondered how Bokken anticipated Kivan's plan before Kivan even made it. Kivan resolved to keep a closer eye on the insane man.
Kivan isn't surprised by Bara's appearance as he assumed she was here already. He goes down to the basement and unpacks his things.
"Good to see you again," Milo says to Oleg and Svetlana. "Hiring help is a good idea. I'll stop in when I can to make sure no one is causing too much trouble for you, too."
Milo is startled by Bara's sudden appearance, but smiles at her comment about them not being prey. "Oh!" he says out loud after Bara drags Idris away. "That... explains a lot," he mutters to no one in particular, now that he's encountered the infamous orc that the assassins were seeking. He helps Maja shepherd the wagon train into the compound, assisting the Westwinders in unpacking their belongings and unhitching their horses. He also takes some time to explore the fort, taking note of the layout and what needed to be repaired. He'd seen it from afar when the bandits had occupied it, but never ventured very close to it.
Later, he tracks down Idris, after she's had a chance to spend time with Bara. "Since Garess isn't here yet, it's up to us to keep the people safe. How about you and I take turns keeping watch tonight? Then, tomorrow, we can start training some of the others to do the same. Those two who were serving as caravan guards would be a good start."
Seraphina watched the raccoon curiously as he responded to Bokken’s needs. Quite the cuddly care-taker, she thought with an amused smile. ”Thank you, Master Bokken. Very astute of you to play to our individual strengths, these will be invaluable. I hope the glassware will last you for some time. Perhaps by the next time you have need of materials, we will be able to find them closer to home. You recall the ruined fort on the hill north of the Tuskwater? We have claimed it as our own and it shall bear a new name now; Haven. If you should have need of us, send word there.” She looked to the raccoon, ”You too, Mr. Wiggles.” It might have seemed just another of her indulgent jokes, but she felt sure she was understood all the same.
She noticed the quick exchange of words when the old Hermit mentioned his brother and might normally have pretended nothing odd had occurred out of respect, but she did not want to pass up an opportunity to learn more of his story. Gently, she laid her hand over his in a gesture of support. ”I have not heard you speak of your brother before this. Has he passed? I lost three of my own brothers some years ago myself. Olek and I were so close, it was like coping with the loss of a limb. Would you honor me by speaking of him?”
Oleg chuckles at Seraphina's words. "You do have a way of manhandling bandits and other ne'er-do-wells. Aye, we'd best hire some stout hands. If you're putting down roots there'll be a lot more traffic, and some of 'em are bound to be trouble."
She smiled in return, ”Truer words were never spoken, my friend. I’m afraid we may have inadvertently spoiled your plans to retreat from civilization. I hope you can forgive us.”
Sera huffed with relief when she saw their intruder was Bara after all. She shook her head and put her hands on her enlarged hips, looking for a moment like an overgrown mother about to scold her child. ”We evolve or we die.” She said simply, smiling despite her irritation. As the reunited lovers cloistered themselves, she called after them. ”I’ll have you know that is a noble Lady you are addressing!” Or undressing… she thought to herself, giggling quietly.
She followed Kivan to the earthen basement, double checking that the building materials they had hidden there were still present. ”Are you claiming these rooms as your own, Lord Corsan?” They had not spoken since the angry words exchanged over dead assassins and she was eager to break the cold silence that had hung in the air between them since.
Once she had double checked their hidden stash, she joined the others. ”Well, let’s reassure the Westwinders and bring them in to warm themselves by the fire.” She used the winch to raise the gates and waved the people into their new home. ”False alarm, dear people, all is well! Just a friend testing our response time. I know it does not look like much yet, but the walls are sound. Welcome to Haven!”
Kivan looks at his items that he had begun to unpack.
"Yes, I'm claiming these rooms Lady Medvyed. Is there a problem?"
Seraphina shook her head, "No, no... that's fine. We will likely need to move out the storage at some point. I'm sure it will work well for your purposes. I did not mean to disturb you." She lingered another moment, as if she wished to say something more, but decided against it and left the wizard in peace.
In the seclusion of the Stag Lord's former quarters, Idris kisses Bara fiercely, whispering, "By the gods I missed you," as they hurry to renew their affections.
Later, Idris emerges, having made a serious effort to compose herself, but still flushed and smiling a little too much.
She introduces Bara to the settlers, especially those she has picked out as guards, and then finds a moment for a reasonably private conversation with Bara.
"Well, so this place is going to be a village, and eventually a town or even a city. I hope you'll still feel comfortable living here as it grows. Sera wants to give you an official position, if you'll accept it. I'll let her tell you in more detail but we think you'd be perfect for tracking down miscreants, bandits, fugitives, and punishing them as appropriate, which will probably mean your blade more often than not. We'll be working together a lot, since I'll be securing the borders and managing the militia, once we have one."
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Henna nods in a serious fashion. ”I think I will! Give me just a moment to get my things. Oh, how fun!”
Bokken raises a tangled and bushy eyebrow when informed of your new settlement. ”It’s been quite awhile since I’ve had neighbors. I should hope they don’t trample upon my gardens! Perhaps I should come calling – I’ve my good suit around here, somewhere.”
Mr. Wiggles looks at Seraphina when she addresses him. His beady black eyes are expressionless, but his tail smacks against Bokken’s shoulder thrice. thwack thwack thwack
”Ach, my brother’s a sad liddle tale. He’s not passed yet, a’far as I know. Used t’be we was close, but he’s done me sore wrong and run off. Went south. He’s a right scoundrel, don’t trust ‘im any further’n you kin throw ‘im. Don’t feel like talkin’ more.”
Mr. Wiggles launches himself from Bokken’s shoulder, his rotund body landing on the floor with substantial impact. Maja’s hand is suddenly bacon-free, and the raccoon is out the door in the blink of an eye.
The Westwinders are visibly relieved when the all-clear is sounded. Azur sheathes his sword and busies himself with directing the wagon train. Though it is already near dark, the paladin labors into the night unloading crates of goods. When the teamsters want to cease their labor and enjoy the respite of the fire and evening meal, he has sharp words for them and drives them to finish their duties before turning in for the night. Even with the teamsters, it is the work of several hours to move the goods into storage. Finally the hired help is freed, and they grumble amongst themselves as they move to the provisions and ale. Azur does not join them, and instead sets to honing his already sharp blade with a fine stone and leather strop.
”Needs a bit of work, doesn’t it?” comments Henna as she takes in the surroundings. ”Oh, I mean no offense,” she adds hastily. ”This’ll be a lovely town once we have some time in it.”
Bara sits on a chunk of masonry by the fire pit, her green skin dusky in the dim light and the reflected fire dancing in her eyes. She goes to work on a haunch of venison, wiping her mouth on her sleeve in a decidedly unladylike fashion. She grunts at Idris’ words. ”No honor in executions. I would prefer them handed a weapon and freed for a hunt. It would go a long way towards keeping me comfortable. Truth is, I’ve never been comfortable anywhere.” She pauses for a moment to crack a bone between her molars and suck the marrow. Bara tosses the spent bones into the fire pit, where they crackle and pop. ”I’m not one to depend on comfort. I swore my sword to Seraphina, so I shall stay. There are other comforts here, as you well know.”
So passes your first night in your new domain. Not terribly unlike your previous nights on the trail, wrapped in travel blankets by the fire with stars above. One crucial thing has changed, however: You are wanderers no longer. For better or worse, you’ve planted your flag atop this weathered fortress and tomorrow shall see the first day of your hands turned to labor, striving against the forces which have kept this land unsettled for so long.
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The remainder of Sarenith is spent hard at work, as the people of Haven put down roots in this new land. The first priority is to construct suitable housing for the settlers. One can only live so long in a tent, after all. The other first priority is to strengthen the defenses of the former Stag Lord's Fort to guard against banditry, monsters, and the weather. The other first priority is to turn fertile plainsland to the plow and get seed in the dirt: Winter doesn't care that you're late to the planting and you absolutely must get a crop in before the days grow short, dark, and cold again.
Your settlers prove up to these tasks, laboring for long days without complaint. The relief at no longer being cast upon the roads is palpable amongst them, and the former Westwinders, now Havenites, set to work with gusto.
"You should choose a name for the fortifications," suggests Azur. "There is no easy way with which to refer to it as of now."
On the last day of the month, a lookout posted in the newly-repaired lookout tower shouts down to you. "Riders! At least ten of them, from the north, headed towards Haven with purpose."
As the riders draw nearer, details become apparent. The coat of arms painted upon the lead rider's shield is familiar - Kesten of House Garess.
Kesten and his band ride boldly up the path towards the keep and come to a halt in front of the wooden gate. Helmetless, Kesten raises a gauntlet-clad hand to his brow to ward off the sun and hails the keep. "Ho there! I am Kesten Garess, and I was told this was where I could find Lady Medvyed and her companions!"
After everyone had settled into working Kivan found some time to talk with everyone from the party. He made sure that they all were alone when this happened as he didn't want to alarm the people of their new city.
"Now I think we all need to discuss what happened back in Restov specifically I think we need to discuss Lady Medvyed's execution of the assassin. I think we need to make clear our stance on when we are allowed to execute prisoners, and how it should be carried out. I have no problem executing someone if their crime merits that punishment, but such brutal executions as performed by Lady Medvyed should not be allowed. Secondly I think we should discuss how we are going to handle the assassin's and Bara. Should we try and fake her death like Anders advised us, or should we just hold out until the assassins give up??"
Seraphina knew there would be a time soon when they would need to hammer out the laws of their new land, but carving out time for the lengthy discussion in council that it would require had seemed foolhardy with no roof over their heads.
She had pitched in with her people. Having been raised in the rough, on the border of the wild Gronzi forest, she was no stranger to pitching in with the rest. She used her augmented strength and/or size to haul supplies along with the best of them, encouraging Maja to use her Calming Touch to soothe those who toiled despite aches and pains in weary muscles and tired bones.
She prayed with Maja often, supporting the praise of Erastil in the founding of their community and especially enjoyed speaking with and getting to know her people.
The remainder of Sarenith is spent hard at work, as the people of Haven put down roots in this new land. The first priority is to construct suitable housing for the settlers. One can only live so long in a tent, after all. The other first priority is to strengthen the defenses of the former Stag Lord's Fort to guard against banditry, monsters, and the weather. The other first priority is to turn fertile plainsland to the plow and get seed in the dirt: Winter doesn't care that you're late to the planting and you absolutely must get a crop in before the days grow short, dark, and cold again.
Your settlers prove up to these tasks, laboring for long days without complaint. The relief at no longer being cast upon the roads is palpable amongst them, and the former Westwinders, now Havenites, set to work with gusto.
"You should choose a name for the fortifications," suggests Azur. "There is no easy way with which to refer to it as of now."
Sera chuckled at Azur's prompting for the name of the fortifications. "Don't you just call it 'the keep'? Inevitably, everything is shortened and just called simply, is it not?" Seeing that he was not to be deferred, she smiled and touched the newly lain stone walls of her home. "This is Glennwyn Keep, named for my late father, for I feel him watching over me still. He has led me down this path, to this place where we find ourselves."
As the riders draw nearer, details become apparent. The coat of arms painted upon the lead rider's shield is familiar - Kesten of House Garess.
Kesten and his band ride boldly up the path towards the keep and come to a halt in front of the wooden gate. Helmetless, Kesten raises a gauntlet-clad hand to his brow to ward off the sun and hails the keep. "Ho there! I am Kesten Garess, and I was told this was where I could find Lady Medvyed and her companions!"
Seraphina smiled when she recognized the voice and called for Maja, Idris, Pretty and the rest of their companions to join her in going out out to greet the new arrivals. She made the point of gathering those who wanted to meet their guests and arranged for the gates to be raised so they could exit the gate and get a look at Kesten's new recruits before inviting them inside the walls. But despite the extra precaution, she greeted him brightly.
"Greetings, Lord Garess and salutations to your Irregulars! You have the privilege of being our very first guests since we have established our new hamlet. Welcome gentlemen, this is Haven! I'd invite you in, but you have yet to speak the password." She smiled enigmatically and then stage-whispered an aside to Kesten, "It's actually Baroness Medvyed, now..." she grinned jubilantly at her news.
She had not the ability to see into men's hearts the way Maja had. Nor did she have the sense of people quite like Idris, but her inquiring look now implored them to do so for her and see if they agreed these new folk were unlikely to harm anyone within the Keep's walls. She wanted to be more welcoming to her friend and his followers, but she had more than just herself to worry over now. If Kesten had gathered up an Assasin in Irregular clothing, they needed to try and confront the problem now rather than later, if possible.
Pretty was expecting that already. Not that she doesn't agree with Kivan, but it would be uncomfortable to speak about that. "Just drop it Kivan, sometimes we need to send a message. Our enemies need both to respect and to fear us, from time to time." Then she focus on the second question, which in her opinion is more important. "Well, if Daggermark is still standing, and nothing else in the stolen lands is, I would say they have a hand on the failure of other projects. It will just be a matter of time before they want to destroy us completely. They will do it by killing the leaders, for sure. So, if we wait until they come for real we could be in real danger. Although it puts Bara and some of us in danger from the start, I say we defy them from the beginning. They will send only a handful of assassins, for now, and we will slowly decrease their numbers until we really need to deal with them. I'm sure we can kill them faster than they can recruit."
Of course Kesten did not bring any other assassin among his rank, since he was coming north and if there were any there, they would be included during the Restov's attack, but since there are people worried about it, Pretty will gather some information about his men. And she knew precisely where to gather it from. The rogue scanned the men from atop a wall, looking for her usual prey, Artus.
Kivan refuses to let this matter just go. "This is something that needs to be discussed because we need to agree on what is going too far with sending these messages."
As the discussion turns to Daggermark Kivan talks a bit more about the region. "Daggermark is a nation in the river kingdoms not the stolen lands. The stolen lands are just a small northern part of the river kingdoms. Also, when I say defy I just mean that we should not fake Bara's death, and just deal with the assassins as they come."
"Let them come. We'll take them as we have the others. Bara knows their ways and we will hunt them like wild beasts. I think she should be part of the decision about what to do in regards to her and them, though.
"As for execution, Bara had the suggestion that we give them a weapon and then hunt them in the wilderness. It does seem more sporting, I could see that being an option for anything but the most egregious crimes."
Idris works with the people to prepare the watchtower, and supports Sera's name for it. She has her own plans for naming the more extensive fortifications when they are built.
"Oi! Kesten! Good to see ya!" Idris shouts when he comes into view, greeting the man with a firm hug and a slap on the back when he arrives.
Idris looks up at Bara, who she has asked to view the newcomers from a vantage point in the watchtower, and looks for a signal the two have arranged in advance if Bara spots anyone she knows or strongly suspects to be an assassin in disguise.
Bokken raises a tangled and bushy eyebrow when informed of your new settlement. ”It’s been quite awhile since I’ve had neighbors. I should hope they don’t trample upon my gardens! Perhaps I should come calling – I’ve my good suit around here, somewhere.”
Mr. Wiggles looks at Seraphina when she addresses him. His beady black eyes are expressionless, but his tail smacks against Bokken’s shoulder thrice. thwack thwack thwack
”Ach, my brother’s a sad liddle tale. He’s not passed yet, a’far as I know. Used t’be we was close, but he’s done me sore wrong and run off. Went south. He’s a right scoundrel, don’t trust ‘im any further’n you kin throw ‘im. Don’t feel like talkin’ more.”
Mr. Wiggles launches himself from Bokken’s shoulder, his rotund body landing on the floor with substantial impact. Maja’s hand is suddenly bacon-free, and the raccoon is out the door in the blink of an eye.
Seraphina nodded, dropping the unhappy subject. ”I would be delighted if you should call upon us. I will happily put your name on a list of honored guests. Gracious, I don’t believe I know your given name, Master Bokken…”
She made a mental note to let the citizens know not to harm any raccoons, just as a precaution.
After everyone had settled into working Kivan found some time to talk with everyone from the party. He made sure that they all were alone when this happened as he didn't want to alarm the people of their new city.
"Now I think we all need to discuss what happened back in Restov specifically I think we need to discuss Lady Medvyed's execution of the assassin. I think we need to make clear our stance on when we are allowed to execute prisoners, and how it should be carried out. I have no problem executing someone if their crime merits that punishment, but such brutal executions as performed by Lady Medvyed should not be allowed. Secondly I think we should discuss how we are going to handle the assassin's and Bara. Should we try and fake her death like Anders advised us, or should we just hold out until the assassins give up??"
Sera had been expecting this as well... despite her invitation to discuss the matter privately, the wizard seemed determined to undermine her authority by challenging her in open forum. She eyed him coldly and then turned that gaze on each of her fellows in turn.
"No Pretty, let's not drop it this time. We do indeed need to define some boundaries, like the proper way to take issue with any of my actions and decisions as Ruler. I can promise you will always find me more amenable if you bring your grievances to me personally. Not so much when you wail and bemoan my actions for all to hear. This is better, discussing in council as we are, but still not what I would prefer. But here we are, so let's discuss."
She turned to Kivan again, "You want me to acknowledge that what I did to that last assassin was wrong and promise that I will never do so again, but I do not share your perspective. For that to occur, I will require proof, a compelling enough reason that supports your point so that I can agree with it. I told you that you did not understand what it is to be a leader... I will try and explain for you now have a need to understand as you have become one. The leader of a Noble house is not only responsible for his or her own reputation and livelihood, they must also consider how they must always protect their family and their people. A leader’s reputation should be carefully cultivated and when done properly, that reputation can be a shield to those under their protection. Think upon the Lord-Mayor Sellemius… his reputation as one of the most skillful swordsmen of his time has protected him against challengers and thus his people have enjoyed a long period under his beneficent rule. And what about the disturbance at the Ball? I know nothing of King Irovitti beyond that interruption, but by that display alone, I know we must use care if we venture close to his territory. I cannot judge if what happened to the Iron Shields was fair treatment or not, but Irovitti’s message was clear. A leader with a fearsome reputation can protect their land and people by rumor alone… Seraphina the Kind and Merciful will protect no one! I intend to be just and fair to our own people, but I see no reason to stay my hand against an enemy who sought to deny us not only of our lives on more than one occasion, but of our honorable reputation as well. If you think that man’s few minutes of pain at my hands outweighs the harm sought to do us, I do not think I can ever agree.”
”As for Bara’s predicament, we must look to her for a decision. I have given some thought to how we might fake her death during an arena match or something similar… but it would require a body to be convincing and then Bara would have to hide or disguise herself afterward. I’m not sure that would be any better than being hunted, though. I am prepared to support her right to freedom… and/or publically defend that she is sworn to me and thus under my protection now. Bara, what do you choose?”
Milo pauses mid-bite at Bara's proposal. "Turning a criminal loose in the wilderness and hunting them could be... problematic. What if you hunted them in a different way? Once you find out someone's committed a crime, you track them down, and then, suddenly! You appear from the shadows, read their sentence, and bring them to some public place to carry out the punishment. Criminals will never know when Bara is on their trail." Milo tries to reframe the enforcer position to appeal to her, yet reduce the dangers of letting criminals loose in the woods, where they might run off to cause even more problems.
Over the remainder of the month, Milo sets to work, assisting with the construction of the buildings and farms, taking time to hunt fresh food for the villagers when he can. At night, he and Nix take turns with some of the Havenites keeping watch for any monsters or bandits who might remain in the area.
Once Kesten arrives, Milo introduces himself. He's eager to meet the man that the others who have told him so much about and who will be leading their armies.
Milo sides with Maja and Kevan. "It's important that we treat our people and our enemies with respect. Punishing someone for a crime is not about revenge for whoever was wronged, or sending a message, but about the criminal and them being responsible for their own actions."
"It will be difficult to fake Bara's death if she is the enforcer. On the other hand, I think she will need some guidance. I can't imagine our other council members agreeing to let criminals be turned loose to be hunted like wild animals."
"First of all I don't care if you would rather have a private discussion when this is an issue that affects us all, and we should all have a voice in it. Secondly, I am disappointed in you that when I bring up valid concerns about how to deal with executions and criminals you call it wailing and bemoaning. Especially since you executed that man so harshly without even talking to the rest of us. Thirdly, the only defense of your actions that you have offered is that maybe in the future if you have a bloodthirsty, monstrous, and brutal enough reputation some people won't attack you. Strange, how Sellemius doesn't have such a reputation and he has managed to prevent challenges against himself, and isn't it strange that the Stag Lord who did have such a reputation that you seek had people rise up and oppose him."
Kivan then turns to Idris and talks about her plan for criminals.
"I dislike sending people into the woods to be hunted for their crimes. It sends the message that says if you are stronger than Bara then you have free reign to do whatever you please. I also don't like the fact that there is always the chance that someone will be able to get away and then just continue to commit crimes if they wish."
Milo sides with Maja and Kevan. "It's important that we treat our people and our enemies with respect. Punishing someone for a crime is not about revenge for whoever was wronged, or sending a message, but about the criminal and them being responsible for their own actions."
"It will be difficult to fake Bara's death if she is the enforcer. On the other hand, I think she will need some guidance. I can't imagine our other council members agreeing to let criminals be turned loose to be hunted like wild animals."
Seraphina looked puzzled at Milo's statement. "Why is it important to treat our enemies with respect? Once they have raised a hand against us, they have forfeited all right to civil treatment. We simply cannot treat our enemies the same as we would our friends, that makes no sense at all."
"First of all I don't care if you would rather have a private discussion when this is an issue that affects us all, and we should all have a voice in it. Secondly, I am disappointed in you that when I bring up valid concerns about how to deal with executions and criminals you call it wailing and bemoaning. Especially since you executed that man so harshly without even talking to the rest of us. Thirdly, the only defense of your actions that you have offered is that maybe in the future if you have a bloodthirsty, monstrous, and brutal enough reputation some people won't attack you. Strange, how Sellemius doesn't have such a reputation and he has managed to prevent challenges against himself, and isn't it strange that the Stag Lord who did have such a reputation that you seek had people rise up and oppose him."
"And if you have no care for my wishes, why should I have a care for yours? Pretty acted without consulting the rest of us and no one is taking issue with her actions. Frankly, I did nothing differently to the assassin than I did to the cultists and the Stag Lord before them. Pretty killed using her talents and no one blinked an eye. I do so using mine and it requires an inquisition! Just what exactly am I being criticized for here? And I resent being called monstrous and bloodthirsty simply because I did not spare his pain in the process of an execution. I am not the one summoning devils to aid us in battle and siphoning the blood of the fallen to augment my own power!"
Pretty was reaaaally bored. This is precisely the kind of talk that she doesn't like, the one that makes her fell angry about. "Stop being childish, both of you! You're talking about the past, and you will not get anywhere! If you wanna get to an understanding, talk about the future and put down on the table what both of you want, for god's sake." She turns her back to the boring meeting. "If you need my opinion I'll be somewhere else."
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”Shucks, I’m jest ol’ Bokken. Alls the name what I’d ever need!” The crazy hermit potion-maker seems sincere in his declaration, but what’s not clear is if that’s the truth or simply all he can remember.
Kesten swings off his horse at Seraphina’s approach, landing on the steep path with a wry smile, the crunch of gravel, and the muted steel on steel clamor of his armor. The knight raises his hand in greeting to your merry band. ”A password? Hmmm… Perhaps I should intone the word “Friend” in Elvish, to gain entrance? A pity I speak no Elvish. In that case, Your Grace, I must rely upon this as my pass.”
Kesten’s hand dips to a leather case buckled to his sword-belt. He undoes the clasp and produces a letter of heavy parchment, folded in thirds and secured with the wax seal of House Medvyed.
My dearest Sera,
No apologies are needed for your behavior, sweet daughter of mine. These old stone halls are so empty without your father and brothers, I only worried for your safety. What can a child do to hurt her mother, after all? The tiny babe with copper hair who I held as you took your first breath is long grown, yet when I think of the strong noble woman you have become I cannot help but remember your tiny fingers clasped around my one.
Your comfort is not cold, dearest Sera. It is a hot flush, the snarl of a wolf breaking across snow-clad forest. None may draw Medvyed blood without retribution. If I have any sense towards the hereafter at all, I feel your father and brothers must rest easily with their vengeance taken. How formidable our House, when even the daughters of the land bay for the blood of wrongdoers! I miss Glennwyn every hour of every long day, but you have brought a certain satisfaction to my heart.
I must congratulate you on your new holdings, daughter of mine, but I am confused by your actions. Are you now to live in a far-away realm, many long miles from Stoneclimb? I had hoped you would return to me and warmed these cold halls with your presence. When the roads are clear I will travel to pay you a visit. I will bring with me the documents of your Great-Aunt Illyna which your father had in his archives. Perhaps they shall untwist your riddle for you, or in any case provide some lines of inquiry.
I am troubled to read your mention of changing features. Your beauty is breathtaking, daughter of mine, and if the price of your magic is its sacrifice I urge you to reconsider. We will speak more in person, on the happy day we next meet. On that matter, Kol sends his regards to you as well.
With all the love in my heart,
Mother
None of Kesten’s Free Irregulars detects as evil.
Bara meets your gaze and shakes her head slowly. No problems.
Artus, Gael, and Dhavik are indeed still amongst Kesten’s followers. Artus sees Pretty looking at him and waves back with a smile.
As introductions are made, Kesten clasps Milo’s arm in a warriors’ greeting. ”A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Milo the Ranger. I have great respect for the wild-land scouts, both in times of peace and war.”
”The Guild is not stupid,” Interjects Bara into the tense debate. ”Proof of demise is required before a target is taken off the list of targets. My untimely end followed by the appearance of an orc-blooded woman of similar features in the same area will not buy me safety. I will kill any sent to find me, simple as that. If I am bringing unwanted danger upon you I can leave. As far as Seraphina’s methods, the only way to make the Guild quit is to pay them off or demonstrate why pursuit will cost them far more than they’re willing to spend to prove a point. Sometimes demonstrations get messy. If you wish to shield yourself from that reputation, I do not have any reservations about messy demonstrations.”
On the evening of the 10th day of the month, Seraphina hears the subtle sounds of a Sootscale dragon flute signaling from the water’s edge. It’s the same four notes played in succession, and sounds like an invitation to talk.
"Very well then Pretty."
Kivan looks back over at Sera. "I would like it if in the future you would inform the rest of us before killing anyone in such a fashion. If such actions must be taken let us at least make it known so none of us are as shocked as we were before."
Seraphina still looked troubled... she did not like existing in a state of confusion and she did not fully understand where everyone seemed to think she had gone wrong. She huffed a deep sigh and worked to calm herself before she spoke again. "I really must be the author of my own reputation, as far as I am able. But I do not want to seem monstrous to the world at large, I can see that would be worrisome to our people and our allies. I will endeavor to act less rashly and conference before dealing with captive enemies in the future."
She smiled and nodded in agreement with Bara's choice. "We will forget any plans at duplicity, then. We should take what precautions we can, though. They will likely attack both directly and indirectly, as they attempted to harm Idris by attacking the Count and trying to make it look as if she hired them. Your position here will make you more visible than you have been since you left Daggermark, Bara. You must hone your skills and be ready at all times. If stalking your prey is what you require to stay in top shape, I am in favor. Banishment is a common punishment that ranks just below execution in many places. If a criminal managed to escape the Enforcer, we could consider they had effectively reduced their sentence from Death to Banishment. It sounds much like an extension of the trial-by-combat practice, also fairly common."
"As a bit of final business before we scatter, I will need to go and speak with our Sootscale friends soon. Who would like to accompany me when I do?"
Sera exclaimed in delight as she took the letter from his hand. "Ah! How did you come by this? I thought you were not travelling near my family's lands..." She cast over the parchment, double checking for poison before she caressed the seal as she would the hand that pressed her ring into it. She wanted to tear it open and greedily read the words at that moment, but it would not be wise and she really must work on her impulsiveness. Was that what truly troubled Kivan, the swiftness of her action? She asked herself, still analyzing the puzzle.
She tucked the letter away into a pocket of her new robes, which she had taken to wearing at virtually all times. Satisfied that neither Idris nor Maja seemed off-put by anyone, she inquired further, under the guise of propriety. "Don't worry, that wouldn't be a requirement... I don't speak Elvish either. But do introduce us to your new friends, so that we might know them too."
Seraphina had no flute to answer with, so she merely sent off one of her signature prestidigitation fireworks to signal that she had heard and was on her way. She rounded up those who had expressed an interest and proceeded to meet with her scaly friends.
Realizing they might be feeling a little concerned as to where they stood after watching so many humans gathering so near to their home, she strove for an air of inclusion and welcome. She tried to emulate what she had seen of them when greeting one another respectfully and spoke in Draconic.
"Greetings to my fellow dragon-kin. I am pleased you have come. We have much to discuss. We have brought people and have built a community, but we are still friends to the Sootscales. Our people honor the same way of life and it would please me greatly if we might be one nation of different peoples united in our ideals." To demonstrate her commitment to this unity, she cast alter self and transformed herself into a kobold with shining copper scales, still pinkish with the blush of youth and not yet tinged with blue-green patina.
Pretty will manipulate the boy through a tale of his own adventures while they went north, both so she can know what happened to their group and also to keep information about Kesten's group and their abilities. If he need to listen to something from the tiefling she tells him how the events at the Ball unfolded.
The rogue will help Maja in everything she needs, so to make this an unforgettable day. She will also keep an eye out for trouble, of course.
Although Pretty did not hear Seraphina calling everyone to go with her in the meetings with the kobold. She only observes, for now, but she has many arguments ready, in case they are needed.
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"I see your point, Sera, and I think every situation will be different. The most important thing to me is to treat the people of the Salvaged Lands fairly." Milo is satisfied with the agreement they've reached, coming to the realization that such a complicated situation cannot be so easily broken down into 'right' and 'wrong.'
"I'd like to meet the Sootscales. I've seen them and their tracks but never spoken with them."
"A pleasure to meet you, I'm sure we'll be working together quite a bit. Life has been quiet in these parts, since Baroness Medvyed and her companions took care of the bandits and monsters. Nix and I haven't seen hide nor hair of any."
Milo helps Maja build some targets for archery practice, and coaches those who want to shoot in the competition. Deciding that he's had enough deer and rabbit lately, he spends a few hours at the lake fishing some trout to cook and share at the potluck dinner.
Milo is curious about the kobolds. He'd never heard of them being friendly towards outsiders, and he hoped that the groups of settlers and kobolds would be able to get along, given the prejudices of the different races involved. "How do you know they're here?" he asks Sera, surprised that she noticed their arrival, yet neither he nor Nix could detect any sign of them.