Disappointed that she will now need to rewrite her letter to mention the arrival of the mercenaries, she strides into the yard and finds the Captain Garess.
"Hello there! I'm Sasha." she offers the mercenary a gloved hand.
Captain Garess nods as he takes her hand. "Good morning, Lady Sasha. Although when I say 'good' I don't mean that it won't turn to blizzards or hailstorms later, I shouldn't wonder. If you'll excuse me, I need to check that my men are settling in. No excuse for indiscipline to set in just yet. It normally takes a week or two."
The copper-haired halfling sergeant gives you a cheery smile as the captain walks away: "Don't mind him, he's not one of nature's optimists, but he's a fine officer. Right, I've settled the troops in, set up a watch pattern, had a look round the place, now I need to make some notes - over elevenses, of course! Care to join me?"
Sitting at one of the tables, he consumes several mugs of nettle tea and well over a loaf of fresh bread topped with butter. At the end, he sighs happily and pulls out a tobacco pouch and pipe. "Any of you care for some? It's from the Whiteleaf estates, but be warned - it'll put hairs on your feet." He grins cheerfully.
==========
You sleep well that night, dimly aware of the changing of the watch and the tramp of soldiers' feet around the parapet of the fort. The next day dawns slowly, with grey cloud but no wind. Snow falls, gently but obstinately, as if it will go on doing so forever.
Raquel waves off the halfling's offer. "No, thank you. Drinking is my vice of choice."
---
Later, as they study the map, Raquel points to the southwest. "I think we should go this way first, heading towards the Thorn River like Sasha suggested. That's also where the moon radishes Svetlana wants grow. We can harvest them as we explore!"
P.S. I have persuaded the church of Abadar to encourage active steps against bandit activity. I understand that the more senior of the local bandits wear an amulet in the shape of a stag's head. A bounty of 500 gp will be paid for each such amulet your group sends to the temple of Abadar in Restov.
Dottori was certainly a man of action. She hadn't expected a letter so soon into their journey, and the presence of additional armed men, while welcome, also leaves her with a creeping apprehension. She thinks back to their conversation at the Mayor's Ball, when he questioned her about Abadar's Golden Rule. "Tell me, are you familiar with Abadar's Golden Rule? Owning a sharp blade is nice, no doubt; but the one who can buy a hundred men with sharp blades has the real power, would you not agree? She knew that the mercenaries might nominally follow her orders, but Dottori bought and paid for them. It was a display of power, even if it came in the form of a gift.
"Your men seem like professionals," she offers. "But I haven't seen a banner or a uniform. Are you an official company?"
While preparing for the first morning's expedition into the snowy Greenbelt, Sasha addresses the rest of the party. "A contact of mine in the church of Abadar tells me that five hundred gold bounty is in effect for every bandit amulet we send to their temple in Restov."
Raquel's eyes widen slightly. "Five hundred? Wow, I'm following the wrong god! Praise Abadar, the money lender!"
She laughs and kisses her holy symbol, looking up to the heavans. "Just kidding, Cayden!"
Lacking Raquel's reserve, Tristan nearly spits out his tea at Sasha's news. "Five hundred? We've collected two of the bloody things already! A few more and we can just... retire, sod all this exploring business."
The copper-haired halfling gives a good natured laugh at Sasha's question. "If I had a gold crown for every time I heard that, I'd be able to retire." He gives a contented puff on his pipe. "You've met the Captain - he's not really the uniforms and banners sort. But he is a professional soldier, if that's what you're asking - he served in Brevoy. Eighth or Ninth Army, I think, I forget which. He doesn't talk about it much, I gather it didn't go so well. And I'm a real sergeant, I served in the Andoran regiments before trying my luck as a mercenary in Nirmathas."
He gives a wry smile. "That didn't go so well. The boss kept changing sides each month or so depending on who was paying more. The Captain's not like that. I know I said he's not one of nature's optimists, and that's definitely true, but he's one of the good guys. We mainly do guard and garrison work - it doesn't pay as well as some things, but you can look yourself in the mirror each morning, and like the Captain says, money doesn't buy a clear conscience."
He puts the pipe down on the table. "If you'll excuse me I need to get some hot drinks for the men on watch, it's colder than Pharasma's er I mean it's cold out there."
His brown eyes twinkle at you as he gets out of his chair. "Don't go anywhere, girl, I might have some questions for you... Back in five."
"Speak for yourself," Arianna says to Tristan. "I have things I need to do, and gold is just the start of it. Nevertheless..." She picks up one of the amulets. "Is it really right to claim the bounty for the one the spider killed?"
"Well, the spider's not going to claim it," Raquel observes. "Better than letting that gold go to waste!"
"Sure! Maybe the spider did the initial work, but then we had to kill the spider. Well, Aivar had to. Call it transference of trophy-rights."
Into the Wild (again)
Leaving the warmth and (relative) comfort of the trading post behind, you set off, your horses laden with fodder, provisions and firewood for the journey that lies ahead of you.
The soft, downy snow falls all around you; the bitter chill seeps into your blood and your bones and your marrow. You move forward regardless, the snow erasing your tracks as you go. It's probably a metaphor for something, if the bone-cold weariness would let you think on it properly. But the only time you find anything approaching warmth is at night, wrapped up in your tents with a blazing fire just outside.
After four days, you have mapped and explored the area immediately around the trading post. You find nothing of interest in this snow-blasted landscape.
Moving further West, you find that the flat, snow-covered plains are beginning to give way to the dense forest of the Narlmarches. Again, you find nothing of particular interest, although it takes you another four days to do so.
After just over a week, your luck with the weather gives out and you find yourselves assailed by a howling blizzard. By this time, you are within the Northern edges of the Narlmarches - the vast, bare trunks of innumerable deciduous trees loom over you, stark and black against the white landscape. Above the howling of the wind, you hear the groan of tortured timber and the occasional crash as an especially old, dead branch is ripped from its trunk and falls to the ground.
After six days of enduring this, and despite the distractions, Arianna is still alert enough to shout a warning just before Nariel and her horse are about to step into an unmarked bear trap...
Raquel handles the drudgery of exploring well, largely because her daily prayers keep the cold from bothering her. She finds herself thinking often of Svetlana's description of these lands in the spring and summer, and wonders when this winter will hurry up and be done with already.
She engages with pleasant small talk with her companions, learning more about them and what makes them tick. She's open with her own thoughts and feelings, but of course, she doesn't talk about... Well, a girl never reveals all of her secrets.
Raquel tenses up and grips Thunder's reins tightly when Arianna shouts her warning. She looks askance at the bear trap just ahead of Nariel's mount. "Yikes! What kind of jerk just leave these things lying around? It must be that guy Breeg Svetlana mentioned earlier. We ought to make sure there aren't any more around. Somebody could get seriously hurt!"
While Nariel's vision was good at night, the constant snow frustrated her ability to see clearly. It came as sudden jolt to hear Arianna yell out to her, just in the nick of time as it appeared. Rearing her horse back, Nariel scowled and cursed in her native tongue "Rutha!" As she straightened her self out, she maneuvered Hrive alongside the partially exposed trap to get a better look. With a shiver that was only half induced by the cold, Nariel glanced over at Arianna with look of relief "Bless you Arianna for catching this; to meet your end by a bear trap would be most ignominious."
Scowling once more as she looked at the trap, Nariel shook her head with disgust "This Breeg needs to be brought to account if this is indeed one of his. We should trigger it safely, and any others we find of his. He shouldn't profit from such recklessness."
Arianna's warning is loud curses with Nariel's name in there somewhere, but if it gets her meaning across all the better. "I don't care if he's lazy or malicious, I'm gonna kick this guy's ass if we find him!"
She drops down from her horse, steps up to examine the trap, and pulls out her tools. She doesn't feel the cold, but her armor frustratingly limits her range of movement.
She starts working to try and spring the trap without catching herself in it, then breaking the mechanisms.
Disarming the trap is as simple as sticking a branch in it to trigger the mechanism; the jaws snap shut, splintering the branch into fragments and providing a graphic illustration of what would have happened had it it been one your legs - or of your horses.
Moving slowly and carefully, you locate another 8 traps; all of them unmarked. Once disarmed, they are safe.
"Nice job, Arianna!" Raquel says. "I think that's all of them. Maybe the next area will be less hazardous."
At first, the bland whiteness of winter bores Tristan. He rides with his companions, doing his best to help with the mapping and camp work and feeling that occasionally he is more help than hindrance. Eventually, he gains an appreciation for the stark landscape's peculiar kind of beauty, and even moreso when they enter the forest - the boughs bent under ice and snow, glistening like polished marble in the sunlight. Now and then Tristan thought he might miss the winter, until a breeze blew through and re-froze his nosehairs and he decided once more than spring could not come soon enough.
Tristan is thankful that someone is paying more attention to the path ahead than he is when they avoid the bear trap.
"We'll need to move more slowly if we're in his trapping area, the careless bastard," Tristan says as he pats Able's neck. "If he ends up costing one of us a leg - or one of our horses - methinks we'll need to find him and collect one in turn."
One quiet night as they're camping beneath a tree, Arianna has a few too many sips from Raquel's flask and looks over her fellows with a discerning eye.
"So, Sasha," she says. "Why are you out here? In the..." She gestures vaguely. "Why'd you go out explorin'?"
The one eventful moment quickly turns into something uneventful thanks to Arianna's careful eye. Boring is alright. No, boring is good. A growing occurrence, however, is the fact that Aivar's beard grows ever longer. The extra layer of warmth it provides is very much appreciated by the paladin, who - barring a mirror and easy access to water that doesn't freeze your soul to its core - hopes it doesn't look too awful.
Quietly, with his eyes closed, he listens to Arianna prodding and poking Sasha with a question that might lead to an interesting chat. Aivar finds that finding sleep is anything but a problem after a long day out when you're nestled close to a loving campfire.
Sasha chuckles at Tristan's ideas to game the bounty as they leave the compound. "What if we hired a blacksmith to forge some amulets for us? They seem pretty crude. Better yet, we could probably have somebody teach Aivar."
---
Sasha shrugs. "I've worked for my family since I was old enough to know my numbers," she replies, offering Arriana a small grin. "When I got a little older, I took what I'd earned and left. I want to make something for myself." It wasn't a lie, not really. More of a half-truth.
The sleepy bearded man shifts about until he faces Sasha. Short and concise, the perfect way of delivering the truth when there's more to it. "Commendable. It's easier to stay under your family's umbrella than to run the risk of being caught out in the rain if things don't work out. For what it's worth, I'm glad to have you with us, Sasha."
He then grins. "If only because I'm terrible with numbers."
Arianna considers this, and nods. "Can't argue with that. To your future endeavors." She doesn't really drink much more that night.
It is more than two weeks since you left the trading post, and it seems like you've spent most of it tramping through this creepy forest. But at least the blizzard has let up, although the cold hasn't.
You have almost reached the edge of the treeline when Tristan's horse rears in terror as a slavering, snarling, wolf-like creature with hideous fangs and claws dashes out from behind the trees! It charges towards Able, clearly intent on its next meal...
This time around, Tristan is able to cling to Able when he rears. Then he attempts to spur Able into a quick retreat from the approaching beast.
However, Tristan's neophyte riding skills, or perhaps his still-new relationship with Able, muddle his control.
"Hold fast! Stick together! T'is just the one!" A really big one, for sure, but the paladin's voice doesn't falter and rings true with confidence.
"Ah! Bad dog!" Raquel draws he crossbow and fires a bolt into the beast's flank.
Trying to keep warm, Nariel bundles herself up as she listens to the others speak. Listening intently, her eyes dart back and forth as Sasha tells her story (or at least part of it). As Arianna raises a toast, Narial quietly adds "To future endeavors," pausing, Nariel smiles somewhat mischievously "you know, I'd raise a glass to... but my hands are too cold."
- Combat Scenario -
Not confident in her ability to ride Hrive into battle, Nariel dismounts and cautiously falls in behind Aivar. As she moved closer, she drew what appeared to be sand from one of her belt pouches.
Arianna dismounts and moves forward, but stands clear about ten feet back to avoid teeth, spells, and errant swings, and to get a look at the creature.
Arianna identifies the beast as a wolverine: they're fierce, prone to frenzied rages and they don't tend to stop until they're dead.
She picks the mug back up and blows on it. "You make him sound like some sort of spider."
Sasha's teeth are chattering when the slavering beast leaps from the treeline, but she still drops from her horse and grabs her bow.
The halfling regards you narrowly as he puffs on his pipe, before speaking. "So, out of all the people at the Ball, he recognised you as a charter member? And that didn't strike you as... well, as anything?"
He sighs. "Youth. You can't tell them anything - and I should know, I've got a daughter barely older than you are. Just, you know, be careful, OK? Tommaso Dottori's slipperier than Calistri- than er, that is to say he's a tricky ****er. I wouldn't have believed he was the sort to get religion, but once I heard it was Abadar it all made sense. I've no idea how he and the Captain are friends, but they have been since way before I came on the scene. Anyway, I've said my piece and now I'm off to bed. You take care of yourself, missy." He gives you an amiable nod and a sympathetic smile as he takes his leave.
Tristan's bond with his mount Able is less than a month old, and the horse - panicked - fails to heed his command, instead staying stock still, staring at the approaching beast.
Easily evading Aivar's clumsy attempt to waylay it, the predator ignores the crossbow bolt that lands in its shoulder and pounces on the horse, one vicious swipe from its claw opening up a long tear in Able's guts. The horse screams in pain, rearing wildly.
Arianna
Aivar 1 non-lethal
Nariel 1 non-lethal
Raquel
Sasha 3 non-lethal
Tristan 3 non-lethal
Able 7 lethal, 1 non-lethal
Wolverine 4 lethal
Raquel reloads and fires again, but this time she overcompensates to avoid hitting Able.
Tristan has a split second of indecision, wanting to dismount and fight off the ornery creature but worried that Able will dash away and be lost. Still, defending his horse - no matter how little is listened to him - was probably the more pressing concern. Tristan slips from the saddle, his fingers already moving in arcane gestures as he does.
Please be smarter than the spider, but not smart enough to resist.
The beast pauses, just as it is about to bite into the intestines looping out from the gash in Able's flank - and flees, howling in terror as it does so.
Icy puffs pour out of Aivar's mouth as he, heart still racing, clenches both hands around the haft of his glaive. Somewhere out there, a wolverine cowers, but right here, a poor horse is bleeding and suffering. "Great job, Tristan and, Gods, poor horse! What in the world was that wolverine thinking, trying to take all of us on at once?! It must be starving."
As soon as the creature turns to run, Tristan spins and seizes Able's reins again to keep the poor horse from bolting. "Damnit, I knew I should have learned to Heal! Raquel, can you - ?"
"On it!" Raquel rides over to Able and prays to Cayden. She touches the hirse's wounds, but the magic barely heals him. Frustrated, the cleric channels twice to heal the whole party.
Feeling the warm energy flow through her, Nariel closes her eyes, smiles and takes a deep breath as she is briefly warmed by the positive energy channeled by Racquel. On a bitter winter's night, it was welcome respite if only for a moment.
Moving in beside Tristan, her eyes still trained on the direction in which the wolverine fled, Nariel cautiously asks "Good work Tristan, but how long does that incantation last? If Aivar is right, we need to consider that it might be desperate enough for another go at us."
Tristan gives Raquel a hug when Able's wound closes - and as his own bone-chill disappears as well.
"A matter of seconds, only. Perhaps half a minute at the longest. I usually use it on drunks - I have no idea how an animal will react when it wears off. We should probably move."
You are at the edge of the treeline, and riding swiftly you are out onto the plains in a matter of moments. If the thing tries to follow you, you'd see it coming from a ways off - and indeed, there is no sign of pursuit.
Exploring the plains is a much easier process, especially since you do not encounter any further traps or ambushes from hungry denizens.
It is Raquel who notices, shortly after dawn on the third day of exploring, that the small hill you have camped next to for some shelter is actually too regular in shape to be a natural formation. Clearing away the brambles and the covering of snow, you discover that what you thought was a small hill is in fact a reasonably large stone barrow-mound. It has a single entrance, perhaps 4 feet in height, on which strange markings are still just about visible.
Raquel blushes when Tristan hugs her. "Oh, it was nothing, really. Just doing my job as the helpful healer!"
He smells good. Sweet barleybrew, how does he smell so good after weeks in the wilderness?!?
She brushes a few loose strands of hair out of her face and looks away, trying to conceal her awkward feelings.
---
"Hey! Does this hill look funny to any of you?" Raquel says before clearing away the snow to reveal the small entrance. "Looks like a burial mound. Can anybody read these runes? I bet it says something creepy like, 'As for all men who shall enter this my tomb... impure... there will be judgment... an end shall be made for him.'" She holds her arms out in front of her and moans in an imitation of a mummy. "'Curse! Currrrrse!'"
Aivar eyes the entrance with curiosity before throwing an only slightly amused look at Raquel. "Cursed with what, back pains? Whatever this place is, it seems ancient. I sort of want to have a look, but I definitely do not want to disturb whoever might be laid to rest here. It sure doesn't look like a museum or shrine."
Upset with herself that she didn't notice the hill, Nariel makes her way around to entrance to inspect the runes. Peering at the a moment, Nariel appears in her element "It is dwarven, that much I am certain of. Unfortunately, the markings are too far weathered to read."
"Dwarven, eh? Kazgar promised to pay a pretty penny for any dwarven relics we recovered." Raquel opens her flask and takes a shot of liquid courage. "So, who wants to come with me into the spooky tomb?"
Aivar falls in behind Raquel and preps a torch. "I will come along, but only as long as we don't disturb whoever might be interred here. Wouldn't want to anger Pharasma."
Raquel nods. "The dead should stay buried. Their valuables? Eh, they don't really need those, right?"
She says a few prayers, then draws her rapier. She looks back over her shoulder at Aivar. "Make sure you hold the torch over my right shoulder, so the light hits my good side," she says with a wink.
Arianna stops briefly to try and read the runes herself but quickly gives up. She moves to follow Raquel and Aivar, then stops for a moment to replace her winter gloves with a pair made of brown leather, not as warm but much more supple. It's not like she feels the cold with her extract, anyways. "Right behind you," she says, coming in behind Aivar.
Tristan is able to recognize Dwarven script, but couldn't have read much of it even had it been legible. He feels iffy about entering the tomb - but he isn't about to stay behind if the others are going forward. If the godly ones in the group had few qualms about entering, it was probably safe enough...