"Be it so known that the bearer of this charter has been charged by the Swordlords of Restov, acting upon the greater good and authority vested within them by the office of the Regent of the Dragonscale Throne, and has been granted the right of exploration and travel within the wilderness region known as the Greenbelt. Exploration should be limited to an area no further than thirty-six miles north-west and south, and sixty miles west of Oleg’s Trading Post. The carrier of this charter should also strive against banditry and other unlawful behaviour to be encountered. The punishment for unrepentant banditry remains, as always, execution by sword or rope. So witnessed on this 24th day of February, under watchful eye of the Lordship of Restov and authority granted by Lord Noleski Surtova, current Regent of the Dragonscale Throne."
So reads the Charter you were granted to go forth and claim back the Stolen Lands from the monsters, bandits and savage humanoids who have infested it. You set off from Restov, to Oleg's Trading Post, 90 miles to the west. Spring is coming.
"Well, this should be interesting. It's too bad we can't just try and convince the bandits to surrender and become productive again. But, I guess bandits aren't inclined to do that."
"Well, this should be interesting. It's too bad we can't just try and convince the bandits to surrender and become productive again. But, I guess bandits aren't inclined to do that."
"Well, nothing more convincing to an axe to the face."
Maybe some of them will change their ways. If we can be persuasive enough."
'Bah, might as well ask the sun not to rise in the morning, hey!' says Matrak, miserably. 'I knew this would turn into a disaster; why did I listen to you lot, hey?' he continues, pulling on his drooping moustache, and staring off into the middle distance.
'I knew this would turn into a disaster; why did I listen to you lot, hey?' .
"Ha! Don't you worry. Any bandits to cross our road will either step aside or feel the blade" Ardell proclaim drawing his rapier and taking a fighting stance, as if fencing of some unseen adversary
'I knew this would turn into a disaster; why did I listen to you lot, hey?' .
"Ha! Don't you worry. Any bandits to cross our road will either step aside or feel the blade" Ardell proclaim drawing his rapier and taking a fighting stance, as if fencing of some unseen adversary
"Stepping aside lets them become bandits again once we're gone. Not a very good solution to the issue at hand. No, we have to get them out of the field, probably with violence, since it's unlikely they'll turn over a new leaf."
Please all cross off a week's worth of rations. If anyone wishes to make Survival checks to forage, they can mitigate this as per the Survival skill description.
March 3 (Year 1, Day 1)
You arrive at Oleg's Trading Post about a week after the signing of the Charter. Some snow still lies on the ground, but the wind carries with it the promise of returning green.
Finding that initially the gates of the small fort are open, you enter. A burly, gruff man emerges and asks your business.
He clambers down from the roof which he has been fixing, and as he does so, a pretty woman in her 30s greets you warmly, "You're the ones from Restov? Wonderful! Please do come in."
She gestures inside to one of the buildings from which warmth and the smell of good stew drift.
"I'm Svetlana, and this is Oleg."
The man nods, and regards you all with a steady gaze.
"We had word from one of the travelling hunters that our request had been received." Svetlana continues.
I'll do a description and put up a map over the next couple of days,
The group settles down to a stew that is as good as it smells, "Um, well, our request for aid in defending the Trading Post." Svetlana says with slight puzzlement, "Of course, we know that you're chartered to explore the Greenbelt,"
Oleg grunts at this and scowls.
"But... the message we got indicated that you could be of help in making sure the bandits don't bother us" she continues.
"Don't you want the Greenbelt brought under control, Oleg? I'd have thought it would only help trade."
Pavla looks curiously at the man before turning her attention back to Svetlana.
"Well, it would make sense to try to keep the bandits at bay for everyone's benefit. What sort of resources have you got? Weapons, men - that sort of thing?"
Matrak Sen allows the others to talk while he digs into the stew. His table manners leave something to be desired, and after chewing with his mouth open, and reaching across other people for bread to mop up the gravy and water to drink, he proceeds to turn his bowl upside down and noisily lick out the remaining scraps, before putting it down with a thump abd belching loudly.
Aware that several people are looking at him he nods at them and says 'good, hey?'.
Oleg gnaws on a hunk of bread, after dipping it in the stew, "I came here to get away from people and the trouble they bring. And now, those fools back there want to bring it all here."
Svetlana adds, "We do well enough with the hunters and trappers out here. Does that mean you will help us? We don't have any warriors here, that's why we sent for aid."
"If I could've-" Oleg growls, looking like he might strangle an imaginary neck, before he looks at his wife tenderly and relents.
"I know, dear, I know." she says quietly.
She continues, "They first arrived three months ago. They threatened to burn down this place down and-" she breaks off.
"They laughed about taking her, the filthy sons of whores," Oleg curses, "I, sorry, my love. Like I say, I would've killed them with my bare hands, but then what would have that accomplished?"
Svetlana regains her composure and carries on, "They wanted all the furs and trade goods we'd accumulated over the past month. Since then, they've returned twice more. Each time has been within an hour of sunrise on the fourth day of every month. They always seem eager to leave, so we make sure to have the 'taxes' ready" she says with irony.
"Taxes. Thieving scum." her husband mutters.
"I think their camp must be a day's ride away in the Greenbelt, as they don't linger." she adds.
"Why not ambush them as they approach, before they get here at all. Or find thier camp while they are here, ambush them when they come back to it, and return the goods? Do either of those options make sense?
Matrak listens to the various options then puffs out his chest, folds his arms and says sagely 'yes, attack them', nodding in agreement with himself. When he realises someone might ask him to come up with some devastating tactical masterplan, he suddenly laughs nervously and says 'some of us defend this place while others fight, hey? I volunteer, bravely, to defend - leave glory to others'. He attempts to sound convincing but...
"We are not executioners, we should attempt to capture them for trial. If they resist, then fight we must, but hopefully surprise and tactical advantage will see us through."
"Well, the first time they visited, there were about a dozen of them, ten thugs, a cloaked man with a bow, and woman who carried two hatchets," she looks uneasily at Kari at this point, "She did most of the talking..." she shivers.
"B-itch actually smiled as she-" Oleg growls, his husbandly protectiveness plain to see.
Again, Svetlana calms him, "She told us what would happen to us, to me if we didn't do as they asked. She seemed to think it was funny."
Tears spring into the eyes of your hostess.
"Aye, she's the one to watch," Oleg mutters, "Sharp. Like her axes. Damn near took my leg off with one. Laughed at that too. The feller seemed thick as dung."
Svetlana continues, "She took my wedding ring," she shows the depression where the ring used to be, "Threw it to one of her men and, said it was payment for "not shortening Oleg's reach."
"Hatchets are practical. You can use them to butcher a cow, cut your firewood, or deal with a bandit. That's why I carry them myself." Kari grins over at her brother.
"Well, so far they've had no reason to think that intimidation is going to fail them. Let's make them learn differently."
Pavla bows to their host and hostess.
"I am sorry you've suffered this way. It's clearly wrong and we'll do out best for you. Svetlana, do you usually wait outside when they collect the taxes?"
She looks admiringly at Korren, clearly envisaging axe throwing of some magnitude.
A sly look suddenly crosses Matrak's face. 'So' he asks Oleg, 'you have horses in the stable? In case we need to run...er...ride out, tell them to get lost!'. He strokes his droopy moustache thoughtfully.
A sly look suddenly crosses Matrak's face. 'So' he asks Oleg, 'you have horses in the stable? In case we need to run...er...ride out, tell them to get lost!'. He strokes his droopy moustache thoughtfully.
"We've got one. Old Claptrap won't be no use to yer." Oleg grunts.
Matrak holds his head in his hands. 'Why did I know you were going to say that' he moans. 'See? See what I have to put up with?' he says to no-one in particular, throwing his hands in the air.
'And you can just shut up' he continues, addressing an empty chair. He slumps back into his seat, and looks even glummer than usual.
"Hatchets are only good in close, they require a greater arc at range, easily avoided, not like a crossbow...especially one o' these..."
"You don't need to use them at long range. You throw one at a guy, then you run up and lop his head off while he's trying to dodge the first one. It's simple."
"Oh, relax Matrak. It's just a few bandits. It's nothing we can't handle."
"Yeah, he does that sometimes. Nothing worth worrying about."
Ardell looks confused at the rest of the group and shrugs
"But i thought we was?"
With a shake on his head and a tip with his hat he promises to take care of anything or anyone threatening Oleg and Svetlana, and then takes his leave.
When he is outside he hook his thumbs in his belt and straddle around breathing in the air. "A fine day to fight" he says to no one in particular.