Faking the toasts, Milo barely lets the horrid liquid dampen his lips, but keeps up the appearance of a loyal member of the town. He notices the two elves ignore this custom, for the most part, and wonder why. His eyes continue to search the crowd, looking for more inconsistencies from the people there. The warcrafter gives him pause.
Not from Khador for sure. Some kind of Merc...maybe from Llael or Ord. Stranger and stranger! he thinks.
The reticence of the Iosan and Nyss to drink is noted, though draws no more than scowls for now. The lass takes a seat and the first speaker arises once more "Lastly before we turn talk to the dark tidings... we are not alone. Sasha is our kin, but there are many others here to answer our call. Kondotʹyer come to do what we cannot alone... but you are welcome." adding the last words to forestall harsh words that threaten to boil up and o'erflow from those among the Khards who are quick to grow angry.
"I, Ivan Vasov, welcome you here. Speak your own names to trust us with them, and allay the fears of our people by speaking of your skill." inviting all those not native to the town to state at least their name and profession.
I am Cephas Warren Mulheer, Warcaster. I hail from Ord.
The warcaster's less than informative introduction does little to either assuage fears or quell interest - and he is regarded with a measure of distrust.
The well heeled dwarf that entered earlier with the rifle then rises and with a flowery bow worthy of some Southern court pontificates "Gorthen Turncoat, and I pledge allegiance to my purse. As long as you continue to fill it, then me and my Ogrun boys outside are yours." straightening and jerking his chin to the rifle slung on his back. "Mi'lady and the twin blessings of gunpowder and lead will gird us against whatever you think's out there to fear."
Beginning his introduction without rising or looking up, Kassilus begins to speak. "I am called Kassilus...Kass to my friends, but most of them are dead". "I am here because it is something I am good at". "I am a master of concoctions, elixers, and bombs, Always things deemed useful in any conflict". And more importantly I don't have qualms about killing". As he finishes his brief speech, he rises his head, and looks at each person gathered slowly scanning from his immediate right around the room.
In the brief silence that follows..."Any questions"?
Realization dawns on Milo.
Mercenaries! That is what they are. They must be here at the summons of the Soviet, and nothing to do with me.
With the knowledge that he is still safe, Milo relaxes a bit and looks forward to seeing how this little drama will play out.
Beginning his introduction without rising or looking up, Kassilus begins to speak. "I am called Kassilus...Kass to my friends, but most of them are dead". "I am here because it is something I am good at". "I am a master of concoctions, elixers, and bombs, Always things deemed useful in any conflict". And more importantly I don't have qualms about killing". As he finishes his brief speech, he rises his head, and looks at each person gathered slowly scanning from his immediate right around the room.
In the brief silence that follows..."Any questions"?
The Nyss starts at the elf's voice. Looking about owlishly before settling his gaze on the Iosan, he says, "Yes, why not?"
Cephas amends his previous statement, noting the displeasure in the native crowd, "I know you may not like those of us in Ord, but I didn't come here on behalf of Ord. I came here to explore more of the world and its peoples outside of Ordite borders. Travel costs money, money takes work. I heard there was something that needed to be done here, so I dropped by."
Sasha remains quite as the others introduce themselves, committing their names and how they introduce themselves to memory.
The Nyss starts at the elf's voice. Looking about owlishly before settling his gaze on the Iosan, he says, "Yes, why not?"Beginning his introduction without rising or looking up, Kassilus begins to speak. "I am called Kassilus...Kass to my friends, but most of them are dead". "I am here because it is something I am good at". "I am a master of concoctions, elixers, and bombs, Always things deemed useful in any conflict". And more importantly I don't have qualms about killing". As he finishes his brief speech, he rises his head, and looks at each person gathered slowly scanning from his immediate right around the room.
In the brief silence that follows..."Any questions"?
Kass raises one eyebrow at his less evolved brethren's comment. "Because"
Milo listens with interest as the two elves clash.
I wonder what the problem here might be?, he thinks as he takes another sip of the foul vodka in front of him.
Perhaps it might be in my best interest to interject myself into their investigation. And the saints know that I could use the money from the bounty they are sure to offer. Maybe I will wait to see who else steps up.
With that decision made, Milo sits back and waits to see who else volunteers for this mission.
Ivan interjects between the Iosan and the Nyss "Peace... if you have quarrel then pursue it later. What of you Son of Nyssor? - do you allow of us your name" seeking to defuse the tension by way of questioning the Nyss of his intent.
Frowning in concentration at his benighted cousin's response, he belatedly notices the others in the room looking at him. Eyes wide, elf replies, "Oh." He quickly rises to his feet, coming to full attention with chest thrust out and head held high. "пра́порщик Alcyr Vrir of Khaldor's 1st Nyss Brigade, late of the Khaldor Unified Irregulars." He clicks his heels together and retakes his seat his ramrod straight posture the very epitome of discipline.
Once the others have made their introductions, the bull necked trollkin pushes back his chair and stands tall;
"Óengus Mac Gairm... Fell Caller an' Lang Rider hailing oot' the Norlan Thornwood Kriel... Left em tae wander, scrap and see the world ye ken? Things got agley when I lost ma Tuffalo... ma faither's tuffalo..."
Oengus shoots a melancholy look at the weather beaten tuffalo tack and saddle that sit heaped by his chair.
"... Ma bellow and haimmer are both michty... and are at yer service. Dhunia willin' I'll find a fine new bullock tae boot..."
Milo waits to see if anyone else rises after the big trollkin gives his speech. Just as it seems the elders are ready to continue, Milo stands.
"Errmm...Hi. My name is Milovich, or Milo for short. I would like to join this group of stalwart adventures in protecting the town from the ravages that threaten it. I hope that our very diverse group will come together and make the town proud of us."
He quickly sketches a short bow and sits back down.
The last of those that are not locals then stands, the gobber bearing the alchemist mask speaks for himself and his companions. In a rough voice devoid of inflection he grates "We the Badsmell Three... not good in stand up fight, but good at killing from a distance." he then reaches into a satchel and pulls out a necklace made of teeth that you wager are from a variety of bestial creatures "Not first fight either."
Ivan then speaks "Thankyou for your candour, we of Pokhva are not ones for shadowed words and hidden meanings. Now we come to the heart of why we have asked and why you have come. We sit at the fringe of the Khadoran empire... but not at the frontline where our town would be nestled within the warm bosom of her armies. It has always been for Pokhva to see to her own defences, and that shall not be broken now."
"Over the last few months, we have been squeezed between the tyranny of man and the fear of the unknown. From the North and West banditry and unlawfulness has been allowed to fester into an open sore upon our landscape. Those that flee from the front like cowards and also those the come across from the Ordish border seeking a warm underbelly to gut so that they might be fed. They have found Pokhva a tough nut to crack and we stand firm... if not for the Thornwood."
"From the depth of the trees there have always been threats from the Farrow... but never have we seen them as organized as we have of late. Groups come with more discipline than you would expect from the savages and seeming only to strike where we cannot bring our garrison upon them. The trollkin also have been strangely subdued - we have always held cautious relations with the nearby Kriel... but no envoys have come for some time."
"Roughly one month ago, Srodnik Petravik took the best of what soldiery we could muster and entered the Thornwood in search of answers... but neither he nor our kinsman have emerged. We have no man that could be spared to seek them out, with harvest coming and the threat of banditry ever present. So we put out a call... a call that has been answered by those that stand amongst us but apart also."
Sighing and looking to the empty seat that still bears a full glass of vodka "And tonight we have the gravest news of all. The seat that is empty should be full... Kutepov was called, but has not come... and I do not know why."
"Kondotʹyer... you have heard my words and no doubt have questions. Put your voice to them and I will answer as best I can muster."
Oengus rises again, a grim set to his heavy jaw;
"Bad business richt enough..."
With a nod to himself, the bullnecked trollkin addresses one and all in a powerful voice;
"Good ffolk o' Pokhva... If the Thornwood Kriel hiv fa'en silent, then it can only be fer fell reason... Should onie o' ma kin can be found I pledge ye as a Scion o' Bragg an' Lang Rider o' Michty Tuffalo, the support o' their aixs and haimers!"
Sasha stands, the clank of armor audible throughout the room. His thick accent matches the local Pokhva to those with an ear for such things.
"My name is Sasha Petravik. I am know to those here, for this was once my home. My father was Srodnik Petravik, and he lead the expedition into Thornwood. I do not know what fate has befallen my father but those who stand with me I shall gladly call comrade."
"Good enough...Allright then". "I guess first things first, we go figure out where this Kutepov is...or was". "Where do we start"?...Oh. and most importantly how will we be recompensed?
Ivan accepts the support of trollkin fell caller and lang rider "Our first thought must be to our kinsman... though we would welcome the strength of the kriel if it were offered"
To Kassilus' query he states "Kutepov tended the farms to the East and South, those nearest the Thornwood. I would suggest that his farmhouse would be a reasonable place to seek him first." before grunting "And as to payment, we offer bounty on bandit and farrow alike - as well as any other beast that might threaten us. The recovery of our soldiers alive or dead would also be rewarded in gold" nodding to another of the men at the Soviet's table who hefts a small pouch onto the table and drops it with a metallic chunk. "I trust that will suffice?"
Kass spares a greed look at the pouch of gold. "Well the terms seem acceptable to me". "Perhaps you could sketch out a map of the surrounding territory, so we know what to expect". "I am ready to leave now".
With that statement the scarred Iosan leans over and picks up his leather traveling bag. It makes a slight tinking sound as he hefts it, and a small frown creases his brow.
Seeing the others sitting silent Sasha nods to the head table.
"As Kassilus says, we will start with Kutepov's farms. Those who are coming follow me."
The armored warrior begins gathering his shield and pike, careful to disarm it as he makes his way through the crowd.
"Well I guess there is no better time then the present," Milo mutters as he stands and moves over to where the Iron Fang and elf are gathering their equipment.
"I'll join you all. No safer way to see the countryside than with our own local guide!" says Cephas as he finishes his drink.
The Nyss elf looks up to the human as he makes his intentions known. "I believe I will join you, Iron Fang Petravik, if you can spare me the time to gather my meager belongings."
So saying, Alcyr rises from his seat and makes for the door.
Oengus nods in agreement and grabs his hammer and battered tack;
"Ahm in. Will need ah new steed tho... Last ein didnae make it..."
Ivan adopts a weary smile at your eagerness before sighing "Da, that is good. Gorthen, Badsmell - we will need you in the North and West to make firm the boundaries of our farmlands. Sasha - you and the other mercenaries will hasten to the farm of Kutepov... find what you can, and follow whatever path is laid before you with that knowledge. Keep tight your cloaks... an ill wind blows from the Thornwood and portents are grim."
The group then files out the Traktir Kol’tsa into the cold night air. Alchemic lights flicker and burn at various points around the Grand Ploschad and the warm yellow lights cast shifting shadows upon the warjack that stands an immobile sentinel at the town's core. Turning to each other, you are steeled to the path ahead... unsure of exactly what might await you.
The pale elf hastens back to the gathering outside the Trakti Kol'tsa, a massive unstrung bow in hand. The fletching of arrows jut out over his left shoulder. On his hip rides a very long sword, the hilt wrapped in bluish black leather. "I am ready to go."
Against the cold winds of the night, Cephas pulls up the collar of his greatcoat tight and pulls a scarf out of a pouch and wraps it warmly around his mouth and neck, covering the last bit of skin he had exposed.
Sasha looks over those who are coming and makes sure none are left behind before turning and heading towards the Kutepov farm at a brisk pace.
The lights of the grand plaza slowly fade behind you and your eyes adjust to the light of an open sky to guide your steps. Pokhva's town center is not large and it takes only a half hour before it is solidly at your back and you move through open ground along a reasonably well worn dirt road lined by rows of small trees. Beyond the trees lie farmlands that are nearing harvest time, with ears of wheat burgeoning at the height of stalks that seem a little short for a good crop. Perhaps the harvest from these fields will be light this year.
Sasha gauges that the best place to start would likely be at the farmhouse, which he remembers to be at the far end of the man's farm and quite near to the fringes of the Thornwood. There is little else in way of structures nearer, as even the man's barn and Ogrun quarters are near to the main farmhouse.
Milo bundles himself up as best he can, and follows the others out into the village, then to the farm.
Kass follows silently, his thoughts to himself, as the reality of cold, and sore feet returns him to what he is used to.
Clasping his pipe in his lantern jaw, Oengus slides his heavy hammer through his tack and harness, lifting the load with a heft and a puff of tobacco smoke…
”Alricht lads… time tae earn oor coin and oor names!”
The bull-necked trollkin seems to relish the invigorating nature of the cold air as he strides forth;
"Ooofh! It's a richt kald! This'll freeze the baws aff a brass wahrjack!"
As the group hits it's stride, Alcyr begins to feel the warmth of his first vigorous exercise. He takes a moment to unstrap his gear and remove his great coat. Hastening to catch back up the group, he Loosens the collar of his armour remarking, "I'd forgotten how balmy these southern nights are."
Sasha falls back some from his place in the lead to whisper to Alcyr, though a man used to shouting battle commands is ill suited to soft words.
"To one such as you it would be. Alcyr, correct? I knew of your unit, and was sorry to hear of it's end. You must be strong to live through such, and I will stand you to a drink when next we have a chance."
Turning briefly to the others but not breaking stride now that they have the warmth of work keeping them against the chill of the night, Sasha raises his voice slightly.
"I have met Mac already, and I know Alcyr has served in the military, but what of the rest of you? Things have happened and such a group must expect combat in times like these. Where do you stand if things become violent? For myself I am a front line man. My shield and blasting pike are strong in service of Khador. While I have not seen much combat I am as hardy as any that call this place home."
Cephas gives an indignant "Hah!" to the northerner's jab.
"To one such as you it would be. Alcyr, correct? I knew of your unit, and was sorry to hear of it's end. You must be strong to live through such, and I will stand you to a drink when next we have a chance."
The Nyss elf stiffens at the human's words. He regards the Iron Fang through hollow eyes before responding, "It had nothing to do with strength."
"I defended the borders of Ord from Khadoran and Cygnaran alike. Now I have taken my leave to explore some of the lands of those who sought to claim the land set aside for Ord. I am seeing that Khador has gotten a similar share of tough times to that of Ord. Should we come under attack, I shall likely be next to you on the front line."
"I've already told you in the tavern."
"Well now...I guess we are one happy family and can continue onward. How far is this farm anyway?" Milo asks, hoping to move the group on and stop the many questions that he has no wish of answering.
Seeing the Nyss stiffen up Sasha pauses.
"I mean no offense, only respect."
After Cephas and Kassilus speak the Khadoran nods, but when Milo pipes up he turns to look at him briefly.
"I do not remember you comrade, what did you say your name was? As for the rest I think I have your measure now."
Did he speak earlier? I remember the others.
Trudging along towards your goal the intrepid band of mismatched mercenaries have little to say... but the silence speaks volumes. Dawn begins to break across the horizon at your back as you close in near to where the farmhouse of Kutepov is built.
Taking stock at the end of the short path that leads to the house, a decision must be made on the manner of your approach.
You are coming from the North and West unto the farmhouse. There is a short tree lined pathway leading to the house proper, and on your left is a raggedy wheat field nearing harvest - on the right a field of ill-kept potatoes. From where you stand you cannot see any sign of person or livestock, but the house is reasonably well concealed by the trees.
The main barn for the farm as well as worker's quarters are on the far side of the house from your approach, nearer to the Thornwood fringes.
The arctic elf stops before the path leading to the house. Taking out the massive bow, he pulls out a cord from his pouch and secures it to the bottom of the bow then places the end at his foot to bend it down low enough to finish stringing it. Alcyr draws an arrow from his quiver and nocks it. He steps over to the trees lining the pathway and looks out over the farm for any movement or irregularities.
The near side of the farmhouse doesn't proffer any clues as to what may or may not have happened. The door is shut and windows closed, and there is no sign of damage.
"I am known here, I will approach on the main road. Those of you who are given to stealth should move to the far side, the rest of us will give you several minutes to do so. Does this sound agreeable?"
In the military we had ranks, who is the leader here? I will do as I can unless another steps up.
Milo looks over at the warrior and simply says, "My name is Milovich. Just a concerned citizen."
As they approach the farm, Milo watches the others ready themselves and examine the area. When Sasha states he will approach on the main road, Milo immediately heads off to one side to circle clockwise around the hold-stead. Using his powers of observation, he surveys the area as he goes.