This will be the In-Game thread for the continuing saga of Death-Lok's Kingmaker PbP.
My Dearest Brother Caleb:
How are things at the estate? I hope events are going as swimmingly for you as they are for me. Have father's debtors come calling as of yet? I don't think they'll wait long. You should have a plan ready for that. I pray that you can find a suitor for mother. She deserves happier company than brooding sons struggling with the estates and debts of their dead father. Also, should any of the Garess ladies come calling, make sure to deflect them for me as skillfully as you deflect the rest from yourself.
You'll be happy to hear that I've led my band to defeat the most prominent of the bandit camps here in the Stolen Lands. We've encountered a trading post run by a family called the Levetons, so should you find my portion of the inheritance, be sure to send it my way. There's a regular influx of travelers through here, so mail should find me easily enough.
I'll write again soon. Take care!
~Cale nil Surtova
You four along with 2 other party members were one of the other charter groups sent by the Swordlords in Restov to colonize the Stolen Lands. You passed by Oleg's Trading Post and went straight through to the hex SE of the post, where you encountered an ambush in the form of a giant spider, the size of a small horse or large pony. During the ambush, 2 eager members of the group, who did not wait for Arianna to scout the area for traps, were incapacitated by sophisticated tripwires strewn about and fell. Seeing the overwhelming odds, you three fled for your lives and managed to escape. Battered and bruised, you head toward Oleg's Trading post to recuperate.
"Friends, it is time we part ways." When the party turns, Strovan is at the door, with Greehr in tow. Strovan continues, "What you did to Nigel cannot be undone. I saw real penance in his heart and branding a man is frontier justice, not the justice of the Lucky Drunk. His will was not done in this case. I saw true repentance in his soul but that was not enough for you. So I must part ways, see where the road takes me. I wish you luck in your endeavors."
Greehr steps up, "I have no philosophical problem with what you did with the bandit. However, without an alchemist's lab, I feel I am operating here with one arm tied behind my back. With my share of the loot, I can go back to Restov and purchase one and be back in a fortnight. Strovan will accompany me as far as he can, so no need to worry. It has been fun and I hope to see you all soon. I'll even order you your armor, Cale."
Garyn looks over his shoulder at his departing friends and seems to reach some sort of decision "Hold up there Greehr and Strovan. I'll accompany you as well. There are some added supplies I could use as well and Greehr you could use an escort when we return"
With that the three comrades pick up their gear and head towards the door. Garyn looks at his friends remaining behind and, smiling, says "Cheer up, friends. Greehr and I should be back in a week and a half, two at the outside. See you then."
As the three departing friends mount their horses and head out the gate of Oleg's, Cale and Silstaren can't shake a sense of foreboding that they may never see their compatriots again.
Cale bids his former companions farewell, wondering if he'll ever see them again. Doubtful. But what do you expect from vagabonds and eccentrics? Not wanting to think about the expedition's fate just yet, he goes looking for materials to make a practice dummy to take up some time. I suppose we can wait to see if they return, but we'll have to send for more men if their absence is prolonged.
Arianna looked around at her remaining travel-worn companions as Oleg's trading post finally came into view.
'Thank Erastil we found our way back!' she thought, still more than a little crestfallen and somber at the loss of Jax and Beorn. Those two warriors had represented their best means of defending themselves against the wilds of the Stolen Lands. In truth, Arianna had counted on them helping her and the rest of the band survive. And yet, the spiders had made such short work of them.
'But it was really their impatience that cost them their lives,' she reminded herself, 'If they had only waited for the rest of us, maybe I could have foreseen those tripwires and snares...'
She could still hear their screams in her mind, reliving that same moment of helplessness when she knew there was nothing they could do to rescue their friends without forfeiting their own lives in the attempt. The girl's weary, tear-rimmed eyes moved to Zennor--as rock-solid a dwarf as anyone could ever imagine. She found herself pinning her few remaining hopes on him to help defend whatever life they might make on the frontier. If they still intended to live up to the charter the Swordlords granted them, she suspected the priest of Torag would feature quite prominently in their success.
After all, it wasn't like Marcus, or even Virgil, could wield a weapon as well as Jax or Beorn. And she wasn't exactly a sheildmaiden of Gorum either. 'How will we ever survive out here?' she mentally questioned her resolve, 'Maybe Oleg will have some ideas? Or, perhaps there's some mercenaries we can interest in joining us?'
She reached up to loosen the grimy scarf around her neck, welcoming the fresh, wintry air as it cooled her skin. "Well," she spoke aloud to her friends, "I'm certainly no tracker, but I told you I could find our way back. I just wish it were under happier circumstances."
As Oleg gets set to close the gates of the trading post behind the three departing heroes he notices another group of four people coming over the rise from the southeast. He mutters to himself
" I moved out here to get away from civilization and all the hustle and bustle that went with it. Now it seems civilization has followed me out here."
As the group draws nearer Oleg can make out the travelers as three Humans and a Dwarf, and one of the humans appears to be a...Woman?
"Now I've seen everything. This darn fool charter will be the end of me, I swear.
Calling out to Cale and Silstaren he says " we have four more riders approaching from the southwest. Friends of yours? Yeah, didn't think so. They appear to be well armed, but who isn't out here, so be ready for anything."
He shouts to Svetlana in the main house "Put some more stew on 'Lana. We have some more "company".
Still muttering to himself as the four riders enter the compound Oleg approaches the group with his hand resting near his hand axe and puts on a, patently false, smile.
"Welcome to my home. My name is Oleg and the woman in the doorway is my wife Svetlana" he makes a shooing motion with his hand as Svetlana darts back inside the main house. "May I ask what your business is in these parts?"
Do you want us to repeat the introductions from before.
"Welcome to my home. My name is Oleg and the woman in the doorway is my wife Svetlana" he makes a shooing motion with his hand as Svetlana darts back inside the main house. "May I ask what your business is in these parts?"
Arianna looks around at the others, unsure if she should speak for everyone. But, sensing a woman's voice might go further with Oleg than another, she decides to answer him first.
"We're explorers...and settlers," she explains, "By way of Restov. The Lord Mayor and the Swordlords granted charters to a number of us to tame these lands as best we can. I'm Arianna. The dwarf there is Zennor. And this is Virgil and Marcus."
"I'm afraid we're a bit shorter on numbers than when we first set out," she adds, "Giant spiders claimed two of our party in the forest southeast of here. We saw your trading post on our way in, but thought we'd pass it by and find a decent parcel of land first. Little did we know what Pharasma had in store for us. It would have been better if we'd stopped to speak with you first and get the lay of the land. At least then, Jax and Beorn might still be alive."
"We're tired and weary," she finishes, "Do you mind if we sleep here tonight?"
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Virgil trudges through the grasslands and forests of the Stolen Lands with his companions. He is his usual taciturn self when things turn dark. His face wrinkles with brooding as he runs their encounter with the spider monsters repeatedly over in his mind. As they approach Oleg's, he lets out a sigh of relief and joins his companions in hailing the tradesman.
He greets Oleg with a tip of his cap and a thick bucolic drawl. His bristly mustache dances as he speaks, "My name is Virgil, good sir. Our young friend Adrianna is correct, we did indeed run afoul of some monstrous spiders. We would be particularly obliged to share your company. We have coin to pay, of course. And as a performer of sorts, I would be delighted to entertain you this evening." He gives a short, leggy bow.
"Well, miss" Oleg begins"you and your friends are welcome to spend the night in the bunkhouse. The price is five silver pieces, but with that you'll get a warm dinner and a hearty breakfast before you leave in the morning. Only problem is there are only four beds and two of them are spoken for by Masters Cale and Silstaren here. I'm afraid there are no private facilities so you will have to bunk there with the menfolk."
Svetlana lets loose a sigh and a slight tsk, tsk at her husband. When Oleg turns his head to look at her Svetlana nods her head towards the interior of the main house.
"Oh, all right. Young lady you are welcome to sleep in the storeroom inside. It aint much, but at least you'll have some privacy"
Svetlana claps her hands at Virgil's offer.
"Some music and stories would be most welcome , sir" she beams "Especially on these long, cold nights"
Oleg stares at his wife as if wondering who this person is and what has she done with the woman he knew.
"Yeah, Welcome indeed" he mutters "But the price is still five silver"
"For an additional three silver apiece you can take your horses to the stables over there and I'll see to them for ya'or you can tie them up outside and let them graze. Again I'm afraid that with Cale and Silstaren's horse already inside there wont be much room for four additional horses"
"Some music and stories would be most welcome , sir" she beams "Especially on these long, cold nights"
Oleg stares at his wife as if wondering who this person is and what has she done with the woman he knew.
"Yeah, Welcome indeed" he mutters "But the price is still five silver"
Virgil smiles, his mustache flaring, "Of course, of course. It would be crass indeed to expect payment for doing what I love. May we congregate inside? The road has been hard and long, and the hearth calls to us like a siren's song."
Zennor lets the others do the talking. He nods to Oleg as the dwarf passes in handing over some coin for Mabe and his stay.
Then the dwarf looks around and notices the condition of the roof, the walls and catapult.
"Want help with your repairs?"
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Looking up from feeding Hookey riding on his padded shoulder a mouse, Marcus just gives a brief smile and nods, digging in his purse for the five silver.
Our initial expedition has met with a seruious setback: Jax and Beorn have fallen to a dangerous and enormous spider whose web they stumbled into. Clearly we will have to improve our scouting ability, and our lack of a competent woodsman has not stood us in good stead. Procuring such will now be our top priority, I assume - I have yet to discuss the matter with my travelling companions. Arianna seems to be a capable scout, Zennor is as solid a member of his race as could be wished for, and Virgil, while something of a minstrel, has also shown himself knowledgeable in much folklore that could be useful.
...Svetlana lets loose a sigh and a slight tsk, tsk at her husband. When Oleg turns his head to look at her Svetlana nods her head towards the interior of the main house. "Oh, all right. Young lady you are welcome to sleep in the storeroom inside. It aint much, but at least you'll have some privacy"
Arianna bobs her head in gratitude to both Oleg and Svetlana. "Why thank you. You are most kind."
"For an additional three silver apiece you can take your horses to the stables over there and I'll see to them for ya'or you can tie them up outside and let them graze. Again I'm afraid that with Cale and Silstaren's horse already inside there wont be much room for four additional horses..."
"That sounds like a fair price," Arianna responds, "But some of us are likely a little short on traveling money. And, as I said, we lost two of our companions as well as what they carried in the way of coin and supplies. If Virgil here manages to please you with his tales, stories, and music, could you see your way perhaps to reduce your price by a silver apiece instead?"
Then the dwarf looks around and notices the condition of the roof, the walls and catapult. "Want help with your repairs?"
"Or, perhaps Zennor here could assist you with some repairs around your trading post?" she further suggests, "He's a priest of Torag and quite skilled at such things..."
Arianna suggests this exchange of services for a couple of reasons. First, it would save some money which they might otherwise need for resupplying themselves or hiring a mercenary to protect them. And, secondly, if Virgil or Zennor could take the time to tell tales or work around the trading post, it might buy them more time to recover from their ordeal...and plan their next move.
dot
"Shut up Arianna, I can talk for myself when I want. Oleg sorry this young whippersnapper talks big but I just need some exercise. Iron out a few kinks. Looks like you could do with some help too."
Zennor gives Arianna a look from under his beetlelike eyebrows and then ignores the woman. In fact he starts towards the roof already rubbing his hands together.
"Shut up Arianna, I can talk for myself when I want. Oleg sorry this young whippersnapper talks big but I just need some exercise. Iron out a few kinks. Looks like you could do with some help too." Zennor gives Arianna a look from under his beetlelike eyebrows and then ignores the woman. In fact he starts towards the roof already rubbing his hands together.
Arianna looks on with surprise at their dwarven companion's suddenly combative tone. 'He has a bit of a temper to him, that one,' she surmises, 'Perhaps the hardships of our trip into the Stolen Lands has finally gotten to him? Or maybe he just doesn't care for me as much as I do for him?'
Once Zennor trundles off out of earshot, in the ensuing silence, Arianna smiles and offers a half-shrug of apology to Oleg and his wife. "I'm sorry," she offers, "At times, Zennor can be as unyielding as the rock his people quarry. But he is very good with repairing things and has a love for doing so. If he's of a mind to help you, I'd recommend you take advantage of his skill. He is very dedicated to his craft. And I rather hope he'll contribute to our attempts to build a place of our own here in the wilderness."
"So..." she decides to change topics, "Let's get settled for the night. You said you have other guests? I'd like to change out of these traveling clothes and clean up a bit before meeting them..."
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Marcus shrugs at the exchange and makes his way over the bunkhouse and knocks politely before opening the door.
"<cough> Hello," he says to any inside and drops his pack with some relief. Surveying the bunks clearly in use, and the two not, he places his pack on an upper bunk, takes out his journal and starts to write.
This way-station is rustic and in poor repair, I cannot believe that this is what passes for civilisation out here. Clearly we shall all have to 'rough it' for some time, but then gains are not made without sacrifices, and the potential gains in terms of land, status, and the spread of civilisation are considerable. At least the people here have notions of civilised behaviour: while Zennor, Virgil and I are relegated to the bunkhouse, Arianna gets to sleep in the farmer's house. Conditions are rustic but passable, I suppose, but I have every intention of improving on them if we find a suitable location to build upon.
The heat wasn't unbearable, but the labor made it close. No, what was truly unbearable was the peasant constantly muttering his remarks about getting away from 'city life' and spitting on the ground every time Cale mentioned settling the area. The man must have Shoanti blood, or worse, barbarian blood from the Land of the Linnorm Kings. If his mother was raped by such creatures, she should have ended her life like a dignified woman.
The trader mentioned incoming travelers, so Cale took a break from butchering a piece of wood with an axe to buckle on his swordbelt. As the ragged quartet wandered in, he wished he had his shirt off. The sight of his musculature as he practiced swordplay back home went a long way to impress such vixens as he saw now, leading the group into the post. Were they gifts, these travelers? Unasked-for assistance, and a birthday present along with them. Today was turning out to be a good day.
From a distance, Cale watched their transactions with Oleg and his wife, stoic as he waited for the others to present themselves to him for acknowledgement.
"I'm sorry," she offers, "At times, Zennor can be as unyielding as the rock his people quarry. But he is very good with repairing things and has a love for doing so. If he's of a mind to help you, I'd recommend you take advantage of his skill. He is very dedicated to his craft. And I rather hope he'll contribute to our attempts to build a place of our own here in the wilderness."
Virgil sighs as he watches Zennor trundle off to work, "That right there is an ornery cuss of a dwarf. But he knows his craft and would stare down an owlbear in heat for his companions."
"Let's get settled for the night. You said you have other guests? I'd like to change out of these traveling clothes and clean up a bit before meeting them..."
He nods in agreement, "Yes, let us grow more acquainted over supper. I find the consumption of food to be most conducive to social proprieties, don't you?" He smiles his bristly-mustache smile, then heads toward the main building.
In the morning Silstaren rides out a short distance with Strovan, Greehr, and Garyn. He is particularly sad to see Garyn and Strovan go. About noon he takes his parting from the trio. Wishing them luck and a quick round-trip to Garyn. He draws Strovan apart, expresses his regret that things haven't worked out, and presses a purse for Nigel into the dwarf's hand. "Find him and give him this for me. Hopefully it will help him start again."
Turning back for Oleg's fort, the elf broods on compassion, integrity and how those ideals are expressed. Comparing himself and Strovan, he finds himself wanting. In a sombre mood unbrightened by the elegantly bare winterscape, he arrives. His first intimation that the newcomers have arrived is a brief glimpse Zennor's back as the dwarf straightens and then bends back over one of the heavy crossbows.
[dot]
"Yes, let us grow more acquainted over supper. I find the consumption of food to be most conducive to social proprieties, don't you?" He smiles his bristly-mustache smile, then heads toward the main building.
"Good food, tall tales, and fine wine," Arianna responds, her spirits already lifting slightly from Virgil's presence. The bard could certainly brighten their dreary start in the Stolen Lands. "I'll meet you in a few minutes or so."
With that, she approaches Svetlana to strike up a friendship with potentially the only other woman within miles. "I don't suppose there's someplace I could take a bath, is there?" she asks.
Assuming she's able to depend on Oleg's wife convincing him to heat some water for her, Arianna washes away the trail dust and worries of the past few days. Then, she changes into her favorite dress, a courtier's gown made of red velvet which she absolutely refused to leave at home. It wasn't as though she clung to vanity, by any means. Growing up poor, she just valued any possession that helped establish herself as something different. And, with all the ill-gotten gains her father accumulated over the years, she might as well put some of it to use bettering her life. Hopefully, it would help her make a good impression as well.
Later, she rejoins her companions for dinner, already smiling and much more at-ease.
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Returning to the main farmhouse for dinner, Marcus is startled at the sight of Arianna in a dress.
"Why, um, Miss Tchovsky," he blushes, "um, I must say you look quite the lady!" he says in surprise, then realises what he just said. "Um, not that I would ever imply that you, ah, aren't anything but, that is to say, ah, I didn't mean ..." he trails off mumbling. "I say, master Oleg, do we have other guests?" he tries desperately to change the subject.
At first, Cale was a bit upset about not being noticed, but shrugged it off after considering where he was and with what sort of people he was dealing. Surely, they were just road-weary. They intended no actual disrespect. Heeding the rare tendril of common sense that had come in, Cale simply went back to work on his practice dummy. The thing was a monstrosity. There were absolutely no straight cuts, too much rope was used to tie the pieces together, and everything was loose and rickety. The young noble gave it a hesitant poke to see if it would fall apart, and when it didn't, grinned as if he had just sculpted his masterpiece. He cut at it slow, then at about quarter-strength. The creation toppled, not having a sufficient base, and once righted, the 'arms' were loose and sliding around. Glowering, he kicked it until it was out of sight then went to wash up for dinner. Hopefully, Silstaren had already spoken with the newcomers and explained to them the importance of following under Cale's leadership. Otherwise, he would have to write his brother, and it would just be undignified to write a letter rubbing his nose in Cale's victories and follow it with a request for aid.
Since Oleg never said no, the dwarf starts in on the roof. Whistling while he works he takes his time, humming away to his god. As the sun prepares to leave, as the forge would go cold, so Zennor takes a moment of true prayer to reinforce his faith, even while holding the tools.
Once he finishes for the evening, the priest sighs, realising that this place is very neglected and goes down to find a barrel to wash down himself and Mabe. Finally he puts on his evening shirt and goes towards the smells of food.
Zennor sits at the furthest corner from conversation and devotes some time to the food. When Oleg comes around he gets asked another direct question.
"Oleg, your catapults are a mess. Looks like they have been left to rot. Why is that?"
You said you have other guests?
"Yes, Master Cale is busy in the back chopping wood while Master Silstaren rode out this morning to see some friends of his off on the road to Restov so that they could pick up some supplies they needed. something about an "Alkemikal lab" whatever that is"
At the mention of a Cale and Silstaren you remember the public spectacle of the funeral of Rethric Surtova in Restov who died in a bandit ambush a few weeks ago. His son Cale and a family retainer ( the only survivor of the ambush), an elven woodsman named Silstaren, had taken the stage during the funeral to call for volunteers to help avenge the noble's death and put paid to the bandits in the greenbelt once and for all
"Young lady and Master...Zennor is it? I appreciate the offers but we've been doing just fine out here for a couple of years before your arrival and we'll be doing fine after you leave. As to the catapults, they were that way when we bought the place and I have no knowledge nor need to fix them. This is a trading post not some Lords castle, and the price is still five silver but you can stable your horses for free, no snese in letting the animals freeze outside trying to eat the frozen grass"
Ever the practical sort, Zennor would have found a ladder and tools. Since Oleg never said no originally, the dwarf wanted some exercise so he would have started repairs unless stopped by Oleg or his woman.
.....
Zennor grunts at the merchant's response about the catapults, "good stew."
The dwarf priest hands over the silvers as soon as asked.
"...and the price is still five silver but you can stable your horses for free, no snese in letting the animals freeze outside trying to eat the frozen grass"
"Thank you so much," Arianna responds, inwardly quite satisfied to have avoided the additional cost for stabling their horses. 'A silver saved is a silver earned,' she tells herself.
Returning to the main farmhouse for dinner, Marcus is startled at the sight of Arianna in a dress. "Why, um, Miss Tchovsky," he blushes, "um, I must say you look quite the lady!" he says in surprise, then realises what he just said. "Um, not that I would ever imply that you, ah, aren't anything but, that is to say, ah, I didn't mean ..." he trails off mumbling. "I say, master Oleg, do we have other guests?" he tries desperately to change the subject.
"Why thank you, Marcus," the girl answers, her cheeks blushing just a little. She is genuinely amused by his flustered reaction, but holds back from teasing him about it. "Even though we may be traveling the wilderness, there's no reason to act like uncivilized barbarians. It feels good to put on some less traveled clothes from time to time."
She takes a seat at the table and sets aside her coins for Oleg before accepting her bowl of stew. "This warms a body's soul," she tells Svetlana, "And we really appreciate the safety and hospitality of your home."
At the sound of the door opening, she looks up to note the arrival of the other guests Oleg mentioned, her eyes instinctively measuring Cale and Silstaren. The nobleman seemed young and attractive, but she wondered what might have brought him to the Stolen Lands. The elf, drew her greater interest, however. For she had studied the elven language, after all. And, though most of the elves who did business with her father possessed the same dubious morals as any jaded rogue, she still appreciated the culture and richness of elven history from what she had learned of it.
"Hello." She offers the greeting with her warmest smile, hoping to put them at ease with the newness of their band of four. 'Maybe they'll be interested in conversation?' she thinks, 'And perhaps they're handy enough warriors we can interest them in joining our cause? We could certainly use the help."
Virgil sits down at the table. He cuts quite a figure with a fresh shave and the dust of travel cleaned away. While several days worth of stubble is gone, it has the effect of making his mustache seem even larger than before. It also reveals in stark detail the large, jagged scars that run down his face, almost from his forehead to the base of his jaw. If it bothers him you cannot tell, for he wears a smile on his face and a twinkle in his eye at the thought of spending an evening with company.
"Hello, indeed, good folk. Please, come sit a spell and allow this young lady the gab she so desperately desires." When Svetlana enters, he stands and gives short bow, then asks with his most polite drawl, "I do not wish to intrude, madam, on your mastery of this domicile, but is there anything I may do to assist you in preparing supper? It would be my pleasure." He does not seem to notice if the overly-formal language seems out of place in the rustic setting.
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"Why thank you, Marcus. Even though we may be traveling the wilderness, there's no reason to act like uncivilized barbarians. It feels good to put on some less traveled clothes from time to time."
"I wish I had your forethought, I fear I abandoned the greater part of my wardrobe before we set out," Marcus takes some encouragement. "But is not bringing the light of civilisation to this forsaken wilderness not our purpose? You have quite the grasp of our quest." He turns his attention to the new arrivals.
"Good evening, sirs," he inclines his head politely, "I am Marcus Effington, scholar and wizard, may I ask if you are embarked under the same charter that we ourselves are? I fear that our party's warriors met with a severe mishap just two days past," he shivers, "I can still hear their dying cries and can but imagine the crunching of their bones as they were doubtless devoured whole, perhaps even still alive, but that awful monstrosity. I fear I shall have to write of their demise to their kinfolk, a sad task but one that befalls me as a man of culture and breeding," he sighs sadly and self-pityingly before his verbal diarrhoea resumes.
"But I forget myself - may I introduce my companions, Miss Arianna Tchovsky, our most able scout, his reverence Zennor Praze Sanjust of the priesthood of Torag, and master Virgil Longstreet, minstrel and folklorist. Ah!" Marcus slaps his forehead as he finally has the penny drop, "now I recall where I have seen your face, sir," he says to Cale. "Are you not Cale Surtover? My condolences on your own tragedy, one trusts that your quest for justice goes well?"
"But is not bringing the light of civilisation to this forsaken wilderness not our purpose? You have quite the grasp of our quest."
"That's certainly my own fervent hope," Arianna agrees, "But it might take some time before we can change the frontier into a peaceful home. It doesn't mean we shouldn't try, though. For Restov, Brevoy, and ourselves..."
"Good evening, sirs...may I introduce my companions, Miss Arianna Tchovsky, our most able scout..."
Arianna inclines her head in a modest greeting while Marcus finishes the introductions. Inwardly, she reflects on her role as a 'scout' for their group. She certainly didn't feel she lived up to the part. Luckily, she just seemed to have an eye for the obvious...or what seemed obvious to her, at least. If others believed that made her special and trusted her as a viable scout, then so be it. It never hurt to have others place a certain level of dependence on you and your supposed skills...as long as you didn't fail at anything significant, of course.
'Like allowing Jax and Beorn to venture into that spider's lair,' she sourly thinks, 'But they rushed ahead. I couldn't have stopped them. Could I?'
"Ah!" Marcus slaps his forehead as he finally has the penny drop, "Now I recall where I have seen your face, sir," he says to Cale. "Are you not Cale Surtover? My condolences on your own tragedy, one trusts that your quest for justice goes well?"
Shaken from her morose reverie, Arianna looks up from her stew with some surprise that Marcus already knows one of the other guests. And then, with the prompting of his words, she regards Cale a bit more curiously as a result. Obviously, the young man must warrant some level of importance for Marcus to know him. 'I wonder what tragedy he's talking about...'
Zennor looks up and nods to Marcus, "yes, you are right, mage. Pleased to meet you, m'lord. Zennor as my people calls it." The dwarf stops short of tugging at his forelock for the noble.
Cale waited for Zennor to finish at the wash-barrel before moving closer to it, hoping to avoid interacting with the sweaty savage so casually. He approached the barrel, wrinkling his nose as he saw a hair floating in the water. It was plucked out and discarded, then the young noble washed his face liberally, using some soap he asked Svetlana to bring out the day before. He buckled on his sword belt to let these newcomers know he wasn't to be trifled with, then went to the dining area, smiling warmly as the others greeted him. His gaze locked on the young woman as he undressed her with his eyes, then garbed her in more shameful clothing with his imagination. Even as Marcus spoke to him, "Are you not Cale Surtover? My condolences on your own tragedy, one trusts that your quest for justice goes well?," Cale kept his eyes on her. He blinked and exhaled through his smile, then turned to the scholar. Did this cretin really just...? The smile didn't falter, however, as Cale replied, "Almost right, master Scholar and Wizard. It is My Lord Cale nil Surtova," the last clearly pronounced as if to a toddler. "It is a pleasure to meet all of you. Besides weary horses, what brings you to the Stolen Lands?" He takes a seat at the table in a position where he can watch Arianna as she talks and eats.
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"Ah!" Marcus winces, "I'm always forgetting titles, and out here it seems the only ones that matter are those hard-won, I learned that early on. Technically in Brevoy I'm Squire Marcus d'Effington nil Orlovsky, but that just sounds so jolly pretentious that in the sticks it's just asking for trouble, what?"
Marcus shrugs, apparently totally oblivious of having nearly insulting Cale, and prattles on.
"As for our business, well surely you have heard of the charters to suppress banditry and open trade routes in the Stolen Lands? We hold one, and it is our desire to act upon it. It was my hope to make a detailed study of the regions geography, fauna, flora and archaeology in addition to this and achieve some distinction should anything interesting be found. Sadly, with our group somewhat depopulated we must needs seek out other doughty men-at-arms to join us. I would invite you as a fellow gentleman of breeding and distinction to join with us, but I am sure that you have your own business to attend to, and our matters are but trifling compared to those."
"Almost right, master Scholar and Wizard. It is My Lord Cale nil Surtova," the last clearly pronounced as if to a toddler.
Arianna quirks an eyebrow at the high esteem in which the nobleman obviously holds himself. And yet, wasn't that how nobles typically acted around the lower classes and her family back home? Thankfully, she had done her best to leave that behind and start anew.
"It is a pleasure to meet all of you. Besides weary horses, what brings you to the Stolen Lands?" He takes a seat at the table in a position where he can watch Arianna as she talks and eats.
Arianna dabs at her mouth and puts down her spoon next to the bowl of stew. "Indeed, the Swordlords and Lord Mayor of Restov granted us charter to explore and settle this area," she explains, presenting a united front by backing up Marcus' claims, "An attempt to no doubt curb the bandit activity by giving them a new and more immediate problem to deal with in the form of some new neighbors. I also suspect it's in the hopes of slowing down the bandits' predatory ways on the people of Brevoy by setting us up as targets. But, we all came here to make our own fortune and chart our own future. We won't be deterred that easily...despite our...ahhh, recent setback."
Cale grimaced at the stew. It was a good recipe, but seemingly the only one that the woman knew. Resigned, he set to eating, ignoring the scholar's jibe. He could order the man flogged, but what would be the point? Out here, he'd have to do it himself anyway. Instead, he listens to Marcus, then Arianna speak of their recent problems and longterm goals. "We may be of a like mind then. We originally set out to avenge the murder of my father, but we now look to the Charter for how to best employ ourselves. Why, the first thing we did upon coming to this chaotic landscape was liberating friend Oleg and his wife from the extortive tyranny of the local bandits. They came to rob him and have their way with his wife, but found themselves cut down quite bloodily instead. Thanks to the skills of our trackers, Silstaren and Garyn, we found their lair and made good on giving vengeance it's due there as well. A tough fight, but we came out on top, blades stained. 'Pharasma makes cradles for us all.' But ours were not yet ready and theirs were. What setback do you speak of? Something to do with the depopulation of your group, yes?"
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"Aye, two doughty men at arms, Jax and Beorn, did travel with us both of them strong men and true, if a little uncouth. A day or mores travel south and west from here we encountered a leafy dale bedecked with cobwebs and with metal glinting within. Arianna counselled caution, but Jax declared that no cobweb would restrain a hero, and Beorn spoke slightingly to the lady of her lineage, and together they did begin to chop their way through the shadowy silken threads," Marcus sighs, "they did state that nothing was there, when Jax vanished suddenly from view, and Beorn did cry out mightily and strove to flee. He did fall to the ground within yards of us, and both Zennor and Virgil seized his hands to pull him from ruin when a monstrous spider the size of a horse did descend upon him from above, it's limbs as strong as iron and it's fangs dripping poison. Both Arianna and I did loose bolts and darts at it, but to no avail, and all that was left of poor Beorn were his hands still clasped by his comrades, who did tumble backward as the monster severed them.
"Seeing our friends were dead I did let fly a spell of fire 'gainst the glade and set it ablaze as their funeral pyre, and we retreated aghast at their loss."
"Almost right, master Scholar and Wizard. It is My Lord Cale nil Surtova..."
Virgil smiles into his stew as he eats, then quietly remarks to no one in particular, "It is remarkable the importance some people place on whose crotch they pull you out of."
He looks up at the gathered guests, "But where are my manners?" He puts down his spoon, dabs his mouth with a napkin, then touches his first two fingers to his forehead, "I am Virgil Cornelius Jeremiah Longstreet. I don't know what I would call myself, really. Perhaps a trapper, a story-teller, a woodsman, attempted gentleman... I've been called a ne'er-do-well by awful sorts of people, so I suppose that is to my credit. What young Adrianna and Marcus have shared is, regrettably, our journey thus far." He looks at the young nobleman, "Would you mind sharing, Cale, what is it that you seek out here in the dark, dark wood?"
Silstaren takes the horse to the stable and cools him down. The elf is still moody from the events of the morning. After getting the horse squared away Silstaren strips to his breeches and shirt and runs slowly through some "liquid postures", series of slow controlled movements designed to improve balance. He thinks of his father, who taught him these moves. Caught up in the movement, he continues until the scent of 'Lana's stew reaches his nostrils. He throws on some more clothes and walks slowly through the chill to the dining area.
***
The elf tries to slip in unnoticed behind Cale, but the young woman meets his eyes briefly. Silstaren turns away and speaks quietly to Svetlana while she fills a bowl for him. He's also listening to the conversation between Cale and the newcomers.
Cale has his father's pride, and tact. Silstaren frowns, but he's in no mood try to smooth this over. He turns his mind to judging the newcomers.
The dwarf, Zennor, is silent. Given the elf's mood he sees this as blessed restraint.
Virgil seems a peacemaker, easing the rough spots between Cale and Marcus and Arianna. And a woodsman might be a reasonable companion.
Marcus is marked by Silstaren as a target for future chats. Greehr's magic was too strange. Perhaps, if this one is a true mage, I can find the key. The elf muses about the revival of his long dormant interest in magic.
Arianna is interesting. It's hard to tell whether she is sincere or if she's subtly winding Cale up. And her part in Marcus' tale of the spiders was only to "counsel caution". Unusual for a woman, especially a wise one, to visit the barren tracts of the Stolen Lands.
Arianna willingly allows Virgil and Marcus to continue telling their story. While they dole out information about their group to Cale, she focuses instead on reading his reaction and that of the elf. She pays careful attention to determining the sincerity behind their expressions and replies, attempting to get a feel for how far she can trust them...or how much she should be on guard against them.
'A nobleman with a title as well as the same charter given to us,' she muses, 'That could be convenient or inconvenient depending on how we turn it to our advantage. After all, if we were to leverage this Cale's name, it might rally more settlers to our cause, legitimize any start-up economic endeavors I string together, and lend an air of authority and leadership, while boosting morale. He could also make for a decent front man...'
It's a term her father would have used for setting up someone else to take the blame for anything that went wrong. And also a face to mislead others into thinking that person controlled everything when the real power lay in the hands of the puppetmaster...the power behind a throne.
Her eyes instinctively move toward Silstaren, noting the elf studying her just as much as she has eyes for Cale. 'Perceptive, that one...' she tells herself, 'I'd better keep an eye on him. He could either be the key to successfully manipulating Lord Surtova...or an obstacle in doing so.'
Even as these thoughts cross her mind, Arianna continues smiling, taking occasional bites from her stew, and nodding at the description of their encounter with the giant spider.
"Headstrong," she adds when she can get a word in edgewise, "Jax and Beorn were just a little too eager to stake their claim here in the Stolen Lands. I guess they paid the price. It's sad, too. Beorn and I didn't always get along. But I saw great promise in Jax. He could have become a kind ruler for any settlement we started...his own Lord Mayor as it were...or another Swordlord."
She leaves those titles hanging to judge Cale's own interest in them. 'Might he wish such a lofty position for himself?' she wonders.
"It is a pleasure to meet all of you. Besides weary horses, what brings you to the Stolen Lands?" He takes a seat at the table in a position where he can watch Arianna as she talks and eats.
"I come to forge a home. A city. Roads. A smithy and church to make Torag proud."
"I come to forge a home. A city. Roads. A smithy and church to make Torag proud."
Virgil nods while eating, "And make him proud you will, friend dwarf. This area has too long suffered under the yoke of barbarism, banditry, and monsters both civilized and not. For too long they have predated at the expense of good folks." The bard gets a far away look in his eye, looking into empty space as he speaks, "We cannot allow them. They must no longer molest or make afraid. There is too much to lose." He pauses for a moment, then blinks and returns to the present, "But that is a heaping mountain of blood, sweat, and elbow grease away from being realized. And I for one am glad to take the first, tremulous step up that mountain."