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Vik's words have the intended effect on the ranger, somewhat. In hindsight, this was clearly a 'good' deed, clearing this keep of these leeches upon civilization. Rendyl knew that...yet he also knew that the conflict had been started before motives had been ascertained. It could just as easily been a rude frontiersman showing off for his equally crude friends. He manages an uneasy smile at the more cultured man's praise before offering, "Your swordwork is more refined than mine. I could stand to learn a few things."
At the swordlord's request to join him in talking to the owners of the fort, the ranger shook his head. Hylaen seemed to already be working to earn the older couple's trust, and Rendyl didn't exactly have a friendly tone or glib tongue. He instead goes outside the keep, thinking to retrieve his arrow that had missed the fled bandit. As he searches the land immediately around, he sees the Sarenite start dragging bodies outside the walls of the small fortress.
After abandoning the search for the arrow (not that he was too interested in finding it, it was mainly to calm his anger, frustration, and conflicted feeling about killing), he finds the priestess has dragged the last body out, and is prostrate near them, clearly offering a prayer to the Dawnflower. As he comes closer and spies the sobs racking her body after her sorrowful outburst, he comes and sits next to her. Killing for the first time had been bad enough for the young man...he predicted many sleepless nights. For a follower of the Goddess of Redemption, it had to be downright devastating.
So he sat, bearing silent witness to Djebelle's grief at her side, at the dying of her youthful innocence. In so doing, he was able to forget his own for a time. Some of the men he had trained with had said it got easier...Rendyl had mixed emotions about that. He never wanted to find it easy to kill another man.
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He had no doubt they were the exact sort of men they had been sent to eradicate from this land, but they were still his fellow men. They possibly had wives they'd no longer share a bed with, children who'd grow up without a father. The ranger said a quick prayer to Erastil, not for the dead bandits, but for their families if any existed.
"How dare you!" His gravelly baritone resounded loudly through the small post's walls. "How dare you put our lives at risk with that little stunt of yours! We're a group, a team, and I don't appreciate being forced into a conflict because you decided it would be so. For all we knew, these were just merchants getting supplies!"
Tegan flinches at the sound of the ranger’s raised tone. His gruff voice and appearance seems all the more intimidating when it’s focused on Tegan. ”I- I know that.” Tegan takes a step back from Rendyl’s looming height, but doesn’t break eye contact. ”I’m sorry. I- I just lost control. I never expected a merchant to talk like… that.” Gods, why does he have to be so tall? Tegan is acutely aware she doesn’t even come up to Rendyl’s shoulder. He must be really angry at me, nothing close to his demeanor in the past week.
-----
”Is everyone allright? May I assist with healing?” asks Hylaen shyly, adjusting the mask on his face, looking around to his companions. His stare lingers at Tegan and her blood stained clothes, but dares say nothing else. […] ”Let me know if I can be of use...”
Tegan watches Rendyl with her large, dark eyes as he glares and stomps away to retrieve arrows. She’s grateful for Hylaen’s reminder of the arrow protruding out of her shoulder: ”Yes, please.” Tegan offers a weak smile: ”I’m afraid I don’t know how to take care of wounds like this.” Tegan gestures at the arrow lodged in her shoulder. Tegan has shot arrows, but never been on the receiving end. She sits down at one of the tables near the fire pit, gesturing for Hylaen to follow. Tegan wants to be sitting down in case the pain makes her woozy. ”Please, make it quick. And I don’t want to know when you pull it out.”
Tegan proves to be an easygoing patient who is able to sit still until the process is over. ”Thank you, Hylaen. I’ll try to be more careful from now on.” Tegan tentatively touches the bloody rip on her sleeve where the wound used to be. Amazing. It doesn’t hurt. Tegan thanks Hylaen again and stands up to give the elf an awkward one-armed hug (because she’s still holding her trident and because hugs are an infrequent occurrence.) Tegan isn’t sure if Hylaen can feel her embrace with all of his layered clothing.
-----
As the ranger walks away, Damiel moves over to Tegan and low and softly speaks to her. "Rendyl is correct. That was foolish, reacting that way. With your beauty I am sure that you have heard comments like that before, even in civilized places. This being a frontier area, men and women are much more coarse and rough, so grow a thicker skin, or you will get one of us killed."
Tegan responds to Damiel with a surprised expression. She’d expected much harsher words from the elf who maintained a continuous scowl through the majority of their journey. Tegan wonders if it’s just his natural resting face because she observed him doing it while he casted spells. ”You’re right - it’s happened before, but not like this. I lived in a small enough town. My sister got all of the attention.” Tegan wishes ‘all’ was an exaggeration, but it really had been an inconceivable situation. It’s like she’d cast a spell on them. ”When you’re standing next to someone even more beautiful than you are, it’s easy to get overlooked.” Tegan stops, realizing her words may make her seem vain. ”N- not that I want the attention. Because I don’t,” Tegan finishes quickly.
-----
"Such a lack of control could be very dangerous to you and us. If you wish I could teach you some techniques to keep your temper under control. We have all made mistakes...but just make sure you learn from it, alright?"
Tegan feels a rush of pink find her cheeks; half the party had now approached Tegan regarding her reaction. ”Y- yes.” Tegan understands Vik’s sentiments as being similar to Damiel’s and respects his composure for being one of the party members that (perhaps) lost the most from the encounter. ”I’ll help you get Elmo back. I’m sure he misses you already.”
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the men they were, whose names she doesn't know and who lived doubtless bloody and cruel lives; and the men that she will never know, the men that they will never now have the chance to become. They will have to go to Pharasma judged on what they did, forever deprived of the chance of redemption in Sarenrae's light.
Tears stream once more down her face. "I wanted you to surrender! Why didn't you just suh-suh-suh..."
Her scimitar drops from her hands as she sinks to the ground, sobbing as if her heart were broken and will never mend.
Tegan sometimes acts coolly but is far from heartless. Tegan feels a degree of guilt when multiple companions approach her, but feels the most weight of her action while she observes Djebelle grieving. She wonders if the ‘merchants’ would have met the same end if she hadn’t cast first. Tegan considers approaching Djebelle to comfort her, but feels too awkward. Instead, Tegan goes outside of Oleg’s Trading Post to pull Milo, her mule, inside. Tegan glances over her shoulder at Djebelle: is it ignorant to assume they would have surrendered?
-----
Tegan guides Milo inside by his bridle and leads him to the stables for a drink. She pats his mane before joining Hylaen, who’d made the first move to approach the two hiding(?) civilians.
”Hello?” he said loudly, trying to sound friendly and inspire some confidence. ”We come in peace. My name is Hylaen. I am- We are the charters sent from Brevoy. Perhaps you were warned of our arrival? I’m sorry you had to see, or hear, that violence. We are glad we could prevent the worse from happening. If we could talk face to face I promise you will find us most amiable.”
Tegan digs into the pocket of her apron for a folded piece of paper. ”We have a charter from-“ Tegan’s long eyelashes flick down to sheet of parchment, ”Lord Noleski Surtova,” Tegan looks up from the text, ”to eliminate the bandit problem and other unlawful behavior in this area.” Tegan offers up the parchment for closer inspection. Since Hylaen has already introduced himself, Tegan does that same: ”I’m Tegan Ryker.” Tegan does a little curtsy in her (now) ripped blue dress. "May I ask who those rude people were?"
If one of the two reveals themselves as Oleg, Tegan will ask: "How can we help you?"
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”Yes, please.” Tegan offers a weak smile: ”I’m afraid I don’t know how to take care of wounds like this.” Tegan gestures at the arrow lodged in her shoulder.
Hylaen nodded briefly and sat down with Tegan, mechanically unpacking his balms and mixtures for the purpose of tending the injured. The formal education of a court alchemist ment at least basic training of a chirurgeon, knowledge of anatomy and natural philosophy, even for those who went on different pursuits, like Hylaen, and the elven alchemist proudly - almost obsessively - excelled in all his studies.
”It will be quick” he promises. Won’t be pulled out, though.
Hylaen took off his gloves with some hesitation, revealing unsightly charred hands, and evaluated the injury. He applied a salve to numb the skin, broke the shaft, then removed the arrow from the other side of the shoulder, not to lacerate the tissue any further by pulling the arrowhead. The pain wouldn’t last long. After cleaning, some dressing on the wound, she would feel brand new.
The uncomfortable silence was weighing down on them as the alchemist worked. After what they have been through, the atmosphere felt heavy. Hylaen felt he should say something.
”They are right, you know. Those people could have been just merchants.” he said and regretted immediately. There was nothing Hylaen could add that the others haven’t already said. No reason to bash the message on the girl’s head. A minute of silence later, the elf decided to try another approach:
”I’ll let you in a little secret.” his tone was nervous, but he also sounded more at ease at the same time, as someone looking for an excuse to connect. ”I also have difficulty getting hold of my emotions sometimes. It was worse in the past. What I do to keep myself focused… I breath deep and recite some complex alchemical formulae in my mind. You could try it. Not with alchemical formulae.” he added in a hurry. ”Perhaps list your favorite types of tea or the best places you ever been. Anything that's meaningful to you, that can clear your mind for a while.” Hylaen shrugged. ”Who knows? Maybe it’s just rubbish. But maybe it will help you out on the long run.”
As Tegan stands to hug him, the elf takes a while to realize her intentions, which only makes the moment more awkward. He embraces her quickly, embarrassed, increasingly self aware by the second, and also of how unfamiliar they still were to each other - Oh what was I thinking giving unrequested personal advice like some old wise man like that?? - and of course of how attractive Tegan is. Yet, as she thanked him, Hylaen simply smiled. Up close, the scarred side of his mouth made his tiny grin look crooked, but it was sincere, even if not very pretty.
---
Hylaen awaits patiently for Oleg and whoever else might be with him to answer. As Tegan joins him, the elf suddenly realizes that a exotic stranger with a mask may not be the best person to negotiate with someone that was almost robbed, so he hangs back a little. Hylaen considers taking out his mask, but the feeling of shame is too great. That would only make everything worse, for sure.
While Damiel, Hylaen and Viklop somewhat tried to imprint some caution and good sense on Tegan’s head, no one except Rendyl went to comfort Djbelle, and even the ranger silent vigil did nothing to really ease this the dying of her innocence, however it was only Rendyl that noticed that the signs.
Djbelle started to sob even harder than before and then to pray into a language that Rendyl could not understand.
A few moments later, a pure white horse slowly walks towards the duo, stopping a few paces away from Djbelle, waiting for something.
The sound of muffled voices, and a few moments later the door opens and a middle aged man walks out, followed close by his wife.
”Well, finally.” the man says grumpily. ”I thought we would die here to bandits before any help from Brevoy.” he seems about to continue when his wife interrupts him. ”Don’t be silly Oleg. This is not how you should treat our guest.” then she turns to the party and greet them warmly ”It’s so good to have you here! We’ve been assailed by bandits for the last few months; you arrived just at the nick of time to prevent one more robbery. I cannot thank you enough.” she says nodding to the party before finally introducing themselves ”This is my husband Oleg Leveton and I’m Svetlana. Are you hungry? I’ll prepare dinner if you give me a few moments.”
”Prevent another robbery?” Tegan echoes, ”So those men we killed were bandits – not merchants?” Tegan sighs with relief and smiles at Hylaen. Her pearly white teeth are perfectly aligned behind her pretty pink lips. She feels significantly better hearing the news. That’s good news. Perhaps we’ve already accomplished part of our assignment.
”Dinner sounds wonderful, Svetlana. Can I help you prepare anything?” Tegan returns the folded parchment to her apron pocket and follows the blonde woman. ”So how long have you and your husband run this trading post? …Do you know a lieutenant named Kesten Garess? What would be the best way to rid this area of bandits?” Tegan asks her questions in a conversational manner, pausing for small talk in-between the questions.
Rendyl just sat there at the young woman's side, peeking over at her every now and then with his dark eyes. He wanted to afford her respect and dignity during this traumatic time, but felt that completely avoiding eye contact with her would exacerbate any feelings of guilt she might feel. Hell, she might not even realize he was here, for that matter. The young ranger wasn't bothered by that thought...he had wanted relative privacy to collect his thoughts and process what had just happened. The others seemed to be taking it all in stride...so it made sense for the bleeding hearts to find solace in each others' company.
Rendyl briefly smiled grimly at the thought. He certainly hadn't thought this thing completely through if he hadn't anticipated spilling blood. The lawless men in these parts were not going to just up and leave because a half dozen upstarts asked them nicely to. This 'Stag Lord' certainly wouldn't give up his dominion without a fight. Rendyl felt a certain level of comfort in knowing that when it came down to it, he would slay these bandits, but would take no pleasure in doing so. Some of them were evil men, to be sure, but others were just scared of leaving the life, or young and stupid, or desperate.
As the priestess' chanting and praying turned into a language the ranger could not follow he again looked at Djebelle to make certain she was ok. Such an event could surely drive one to madness. As the sobs racked her body harder as she prayed, he felt he should do something, but was too unsure of himself to do anything other than look at her with concern. It was then that he noticed the steed approach, it's pure white coat glistening in the pale light. The ranger locked eyes with the animal for a moment, thinking to use that special 'knack' he had with such beasts, but instead he gently grasps Djebelle's shoulder, giving it a soft shake to rouse her.
Seeing how Tegan and Hylean have made contact with the fort's owners, Vik returned to the place of battle and notices all the bodies are gone. Wandering out to the gate and, following the marks on the ground, goes to the side of the fort to see if he can help with burying the bandits.
”Tegan, right dear?” the woman says warmly ”No, no. Can’t have you doing that. I’ll take care of dinner, but who’s this Kesten Garess? I don’t know such person, as for the bandits, I couldn’t say the best way to deal with them, but I think bringing them to justice is the correct way, right?”
Meanwhile Oleg walks towards the burnt wagon and his goods inside it. He doesn’t claim it back, but look around and the blood stained floor. ”Those damn bandits were charging us for ‘protection’ every month.” he spits in the ground in disgust ”They would come and take away all of our profit.” he looks around again then mention the wagon ”Guess that’s yours now, it’s the least I could do to repay.”
Hylaen smiles back at Tegan, relieved that the inhabitants of the outpost were alive and well, and that nothing disastrous came out of it - despite the death of criminals, that is, but those men seemed way too insistent to let the situation end in blood doesn’t matter what. The alchemist greeted Oleg and Svetlana politely and let Tegan do the talking.
”I don’t know such person, as for the bandits, I couldn’t say the best way to deal with them, but I think bringing them to justice is the correct way, right?”
”Who is the representative of the king’s justice around this parts, if I may ask?” Is there one? questioned Hylaen in his mind. The whole purpose of their arrival was to extend the kingdom’s influence over the border, after all. ”If we are to bring those man to the law, is our choice to march back only to deliver them?”
He looks around again then mention the wagon ”Guess that’s yours now, it’s the least I could do to repay.”
As he talked, Hylaen walked towards Oleg. The elf looked inside the wagon to inspect it’s contents. If the couple wanted them to have it, he wasn’t going to argue, specially if anything there could be put to practical use. "Thank you, he said, softly.
Oleg looks at the elf for a long while and then with a sigh answers the question ”Suppose it you, right? Got chart and all, to bring civilization into these lands, or so we’ve been told. And what do you mean ‘bout marching them back? Deliver? Bandits should be delivered to the rope. Fits them better.”
Inspecting the wagon, does not reveal anything new, except the three crates of furs and hides.
He is not going to take this couple's hard earned goods! he thinks to himself, and the scowl that had for a few moments left his face quickly returns.
Pulling Hylaen aside and speaking low so Oleg and Svetlana can't hear, "this is their livelihood. We are not taking their furs or their wagon" he emphatically, but quietly says.
Not waiting to hear a response, he turns to Oleg "nay good man, the goods that the bandits were stealing are yours. We will not deprive you of your livelihood. Now, the bandits equipment, and horses, we will take. I personally can use a horse, a longbow, a short sword and some arrows."
As Oleg gives his opinion on what to do with the bandits, the scowl that had returned to his face, leaves and a small grin appears, "good. We agree on that. If they will not come to their senses and give up their banditry, then they will die by the rope or sword."
Picking up the silver amulet, he looks at it. He will turn to Oleg and ask, "do you know what this amulet is?"
Djebelle jumps at Rendyl's touch on her shoulder; she hadn't noticed him there. "Oh! Um, hello." She scrabbles for her scimitar, embarrassed to have dropped it, and places it in her scabbard. It takes her several attempts.
Running one arm across her face, she does her best to smile: "I'm... OK, I think." She frowns slightly, hesitating, before just deciding to go ahead and ask it anyway. "Um, sorry if this sounds weird, but did anything try to, you know, talk to you while you were praying?"
Standing up, she notices the horse for the first time and is struck absolutely dumb.
Rendyl has the courtesy to avert his gaze while the priestess composes herself and scrambles for her dropped weapon. The ranger returns her forced smile with a weak one of his own before listening to her blurted out question after a brief pause. He contemplates the words for a few long moments before deciding her words were in earnest and not the ravings of a mad person. The lanky man shook his head slowly, his dark eyes relaxed and non-judgmental.
Oh, it seemed she had noticed the horse. Maybe she could make some sense of it...Djebelle certainly seemed more than just the usual surprised to see a steed appear out of nowhere. He stayed still, waiting for the scene to play out, at the ready to try and calm the beast should it somehow go wild.
”Tegan, right dear?” the woman says warmly ”No, no. Can’t have you doing that. I’ll take care of dinner, but who’s this Kesten Garess? I don’t know such person, as for the bandits, I couldn’t say the best way to deal with them, but I think bringing them to justice is the correct way, right?”
Tegan offers the woman a smile and thanks her for her hospitality before rejoining the others.
Tegan sees Damiel pull Hylaen aside to whisper something to the other elf. Tegan cocks her head and narrows her eyes, but is unable to hear the exchange. Then, Damiel addresses those inside the trading post:
Not waiting to hear a response, he turns to Oleg "nay good man, the goods that the bandits were stealing are yours. We will not deprive you of your livelihood. Now, the bandits equipment, and horses, we will take. I personally can use a horse, a longbow, a short sword and some arrows."
Tegan looks towards Oleg to gauge his response. ”My companion, Damiel, is right. We have no use for furs and hides.” She wraps an arm around slender waist, ”Did we… ruin your wagon with the bombs? …I’m sorry, but I’m not sure if we have a use for a wagon at present.” Tegan tries to make eye contact with her companions, unsure of what lays ahead in their future.
”Suppose it you, right? Got chart and all, to bring civilization into these lands, or so we’ve been told. And what do you mean ‘bout marching them back? Deliver? Bandits should be delivered to the rope. Fits them better.”
As Oleg gives his opinion on what to do with the bandits, the scowl that had returned to his face, leaves and a small grin appears, "good. We agree on that. If they will not come to their senses and give up their banditry, then they will die by the rope or sword."
Tegan learns two things from talking with Oleg. First, the bandits will probably need be dealt with by putting the majority of them to death. Second, Tegan and her companions had been given much more responsibility than Tegan initially expected. Tegan takes in a shaky breath, and sits down. Perhaps I should write a letter tonight - to this, Kesten Garess. He should know that we've arrived and that we've started eliminating the bandits in the area.
"It's late and I'm tired from our journey. We should eat and secure the building. Perhaps in the morning we can track down the bandit who stole Vik's horse and we'll find their camp." Tegan scopes out the interior from her current vantage point, where are the others?
Some colour has returned to Djebelle's cheeks; she flushes slightly as the ranger shakes his head at her question. "Oh. Well, someone spoke to me. Something. And it didn't talk like... like the Dawnflower, you know? Not that, you know, she talks to me, but it didn't sound like anything she'd say. You know, if she did talk to me." She shudders, aware that she's rambling slightly.
"This voice told me ... well, that doesn't matter. But it said it was sending me a gift." She gestures at the horse. "I thought it was all in my head, but you can see the horse too, right?"
She peers at him, anxiously.
Vik comes around the corner and is about to say something when he notices the white horse.
"Wow..where did that come from?", he says pointing at the horse.
"Umm..anyway, I thought you might need some help burying the bodies. I am sure Oleg can provide us with a few shovels if we asked."
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The ranger just nodded as the younger woman stammered around in her explanation of the voice she had been talking to. He'd lived a relatively simple life and tried not to be too judgmental about others. He understood that priests communed with their gods, and Rendyl assumed the deity responded at least occasionally.
His gaze drifted to Vik as the swordlord spoke, nodding in agreement before turning his face back to Djebelle. He laid a hand on her shoulder and spoke softly, "My father used to say there was no such thing as a gift...just a payment in advance for something later. If you're sure it didn't come from Sarenrae, and don't know the desires of this nameless voice, I would politely decline." He offered an encouraging smile, squeezing her shoulder gently before going to join Vik in procuring shovels to lay the dead to rest.
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It was Hylaen's turn to scowl this time, it's impact somewhat subsided by the mask, but the offense was clear in his voice. "Nothing is being taken. It was freely given. And I obviously meant to unload the wagon, we have one already anyway he grumbled, low voice, speaking his mind even when he was not sure anyone would listen. The elf fidgeted with his many pockets, pretending to be looking for something as he glanced discreetly at the wagon.. His bombs shouldn't have damaged the goods all that much. But then again, he wasn't really paying any attention to it at the moment explosives were being thrown around, was he? Well, I should compensate Oleg for it then. A new wagon will do well. And anything needed, of course. Just need some components, maybe tomorrow I could…
As the others continue to speak, Hylaen is only half listening. The elf is brought back from his anxious thoughts in time to catch Tegan’s last sentence.
”Yes, it is late, I will look for the others. We should lock our prisoner somewhere empty for now, while we wait for Garess’ party. Or at least until we all discuss what to do with him. I don’t think we alone are in the position of making anyone dance at end of a rope yet” he adds, grimgly.
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Djebelle purses her lips at the ranger's words. It's not bad advice, but she has no idea how to return the gift. Besides, they are all alone in the wilderness, with enemies on all sides - can she really afford to turn down help when it is offered? And anyway, they are down one horse.
Vik comes around the corner and is about to say something when he notices the white horse.
"Wow..where did that come from?", he says pointing at the horse.
Djebelle looks faintly embarrassed. "Um, it's mine. I think. It's complicated..."
She does her best to explain the situation as she set it out to Rendyl.
"The thing is, I don't know how to ride, and you lost your horse, so..."
She wanders over to the horse. The nameless voice said the horse was called Night, and that she'd obey Djebelle. Which presumably means she can understand words. Oh well. "Night, I'm told you're for me, but I don't need a horse right now. So my command is: you're to go with Vik, obey his orders and don't let anyone steal you."
"Umm..anyway, I thought you might need some help burying the bodies. I am sure Oleg can provide us with a few shovels if we asked."
She nods, weary to the bone but unwilling to give up. Besides, maybe tiredness will help her sleep tonight. "Yes. Let's get them buried."
She looks a bit more confident. She's survived two ordeals today: trial by combat, and a test of her soul, and she's come through both relatively unscathed. Maybe she can do some good out here in this place, after all.
Wiping one arm across her face, she tries out a hopeful smile.
The Silver amulet seems is rudely constructed, its shape a Stag, but even with rough craftsmanship, you think it’s worth at least 50gp.
Oleg takes a long look at the amulet before shaking his head ”Don’t recall seeing something like it ‘fore.” then he inspect the wagon and its content before saying ”It’s not too bad. Few burns here and there but nothing that will prevent it of being a wagon.”
Night falls quickly, and Oleg lit up the lanterns providing some measure of comfort against the impending darkness. There is no moon this night. You are not sure what is Svetlana is cooking, but the smell tugs your appetite and makes you remember how hungry you are, after the events of the day.
Burying the bodies today would prove a very difficult task. Night is soon to fall upon you, and you will need to work thru the night, to dig a big enough hole for seven bodies.
Rendyl offers his words of wisdom before moving away in search of tools to help them bury the dead, which leaves Viklop and Djbelle to deal with the white steed.
The young cleric stammers as she tries to explain what is happening. When she says “Um, it’s mine…” the horse take a step forward stopping directly in front of Djbelle. It lowers its head, gently brushing it against the cleric’s shoulder. One could be sure it was nothing more than just a puppy asking the owner to give it some attention.
So, it’s no surprise that, when Djbelle commands it to serve Viklop, the horse angrily hit the ground with her front hooves while she neigh displeasingly. For all purpose and effects, the horse just said no.
Not soon after, Oleg’s wife calls everyone for dinner.
The meal prepared is a simple meat stew with carrot and potatoes, served with hard bread, cheese and red wine. It is a simple dish, but the flavor cannot compare to any stew you have eaten before. The wine seems to be from a very old vintage, and it is clear that it is not a simple drink used for daily meals.
Vik looks startled when Djbelle offer the magnificent mount to him, then smiles as the horse reasserts it preference.
"I thank you for the thought Djbelle, but this horse is obviously a one-woman mount. Come let us retire to the Trading Post for a meal...I can smell whatever Svetlana is cooking and it has my mouth watering and my stomach rumbling! We can finish burying the bodies tomorrow...they are not going anywhere!"
Rendyl agrees with Vik's assessment...the group is likely exhausted, the young priestess even more so. After the initial shock of the experience had worn off, and further encouraged by the smells coming from inside the keep, the ranger realized how hungry he had become.
"Vik's right...let's eat." If the priestess shows any uncertainty about the idea of leaving the bodies out for the night, he adds, "Afterwards, we can lay the dead to rest. For now we must replenish the living." The young man managed to not wince, and he certainly didn't relish the idea of digging the pit that would be needed, but he wasn't about to let Djebelle complete such a task alone if she was hell-bent on it being done this evening.
As they retired to Oleg's table, the ranger ate quietly, thoroughly enjoying the taste of the well-cooked meal. He let others give their thanks, preferring to simply smile at Oleg and Svetlana if they happen to look his way. With it seeming that the others had already ironed out the situation with the wagon and the goods lying within there didn't appear to be much that had to be hashed out.
Having calmed down from his previous outburst, Rendyl does his best to not seem standoffish, just quiet and introspective. Out of the pile of loot he refreshes his arrows to a full quiver. If their aim was to rid the area of its bandit infestation, they were off to a good start, he supposed. Maybe the rest would just turn tail and flee now that stiffer resistance had shown itself.
Djebelle gives a quiet, rueful laugh at the horse's reaction. "Well, I guess that means she does understand what I'm saying." She stretches out one arm, patting the beast's pure white neck. "You are gorgeous, though. I'm glad to get to know you. I wish you could tell me who sent you, though - or why you're called Night when you're so pale."
"I thank you for the thought Djbelle, but this horse is obviously a one-woman mount."
Djebelle strokes the horse's mane, nodding as Vik makes his perceptive remarks. "OK. Guess she wins this one." She turns back to the horse. "Why don't you head off to find the stable, make yourself comfortable? I'll come along in a bit to make sure it's to your liking, and bring you some food."
"Come let us retire to the Trading Post for a meal...I can smell whatever Svetlana is cooking and it has my mouth watering and my stomach rumbling! We can finish burying the bodies tomorrow...they are not going anywhere!"
"Vik's right...let's eat." If the priestess shows any uncertainty about the idea of leaving the bodies out for the night, he adds, "Afterwards, we can lay the dead to rest. For now we must replenish the living."
They're right: it's a far bigger exercise than she had imagined, and Djebelle is close to dropping as it is. "OK. Let's call it a day."
She heads back into the fort, the tantalising smell of the cooking acting as a most potent lure. As she does so, she hums an ancient tune of praise to Sarenrae: For thy tender mercy's sake, lay not our sins to our charge; but forgive what is past and give us grace to amend our sinful lives, to decline from sin and incline to virtue; that we may walk in a perfect heart, before ye now, and evermore.
Djebelle eats slowly, lost in thought, and doesn't join in much of the conversation; although she listens to what's being said.
Rising from the table, Djebelle thanks their hosts, excuses herself and goes to visit their prisoner. She takes a bowl of stew with her. "Hello. I'm not about to untie you, but I can feed you, if you're hungry. I know I would be."
If he's uncooperative, she will leave.
Djebelle flushes slightly as she realises that all the beds are under one roof. Oh well, she can get changed in the dark without too many problems.
"Four beds, so 2 of us will have to be on watch at a time. How do we want to split it up?"
After enjoying Djbelle’s attention for some more moments, Night happily trots toward the stable as suggested by her owner.
--
After meal, she finds their prisoner tied and locked inside the stable, the man seems terrified for being caught alive or what might become of him, but even so, he accepts the food eating quickly and in silence, without causing any trouble for Djbelle.
The cold crisp air of the morning and the chirping of morning songbirds wakes you up to thin and pale light as the sun still reaches for the horizon. White puffs come out with every breath as you step out of the guesthouse, which Oleg offered free of charge to the charters the previous night.
First thing in the morning, Svetlana greets you all and after a hearty breakfast of bacon, cheese, bread and biscuits, served with steaming hot tea and milk, Oleg start his daily affairs, which seems to be fixing a leak on the roof of the main building in the trading post. The wife smiles warmly and happily each time she meet any of you inside the trading post she also, recounts for anyone who give ears the tale of how she and Oleg came to own the place.
Of course such tale is told when Oleg is nowhere near.
”Craving a life away the refined rules of Brevoian society, Oleg sought and gained a charter to open a trading post just beyond the southern borders of out former homeland. Choosing the Green Belt as the best location, we laid claim to a long since abandoned border fort, fixing it up and opening up this trading post.” at this point she her face turns a bit sour as she continues ”Almost immediately we began to run into trouble with the local bandits who made a point of pillaging our stockpiles on a monthly basis. she smiles again as she describe her husband ”Stubborn to a fault, Oleg refused to return home, persevering in the face of this adversity. The sort of man who thrives on the frontier. I know he would put some kind of resistance to those acts, had he not been afraid for my safety…” she trails off in her tale.
She blames herself for all the humiliation and troubles her husband had to put up with on the last few months.
Oleg is gruff to a fault, but what Svetlana doesn’t notice is that when her husband decided to venture into the fringes of Brevoy to follow his dream of living on the frontier and operating his own trading post, he was only able to do it because she followed and supported him. It has been a great deal of hard work and the increasing threat of bandits has kept the young woman on edge, but in her own, more muted way she is every bit as determined as her husband.
While quiet and reserved, Svetlana does not have the same gruffness as her husband, making her a somewhat friendlier figure to strangers.
She also, shyly asks the charters ” Oleg’s been under a lot of stress lately, and I love to cook him his favorite meal to help him relax. Unfortunately, moon radishes are relatively rare. A patch grows about 16 miles south of the trading post. If you happen to find such in you travels, please deliver some to me, I would gladly reward you for 250gp for all the trouble, but please, don’t tell Oleg about it. I want to surprise him!”
----
Walking about, you notice as well wanted posters at one of the walls in the main building.
Such posters are as follow:
Source: Wanted poster at Oleg’s Trading Post
Task: The bandits in the Greenbelt need to be shown that their actions will not be tolerated. Capture or defeat at least 12 of them to send a message.
Completion: Any twelve bandits defeated complete this task.
Reward: One week after the twelve defeat, bandit activity is noticeably affected and the swordlords send a reward of 400 gp.
Source: Wanted poster at Oleg’s Trading Post
Task: The Sootscale kobolds dwell in a cave somewhere in the Kamelands. Normally not a problem, they’ve been riled up by something lately. Find their lair and ensure that the kobolds aren’t going to continue being a threat.
Completion: Make sure the kobolds won’t be a problem (any method as deem necessary).
Reward: The swordlords send a reward of 800 gp once the kobold activity is under control.
Source: Wanted poster at Oleg’s Trading Post
Task: The way everyone talks about tatzlwyrms, one might think they’re swarming throughout the Stolen Lands. This isn’t the case; they’re actually quite rare. A tatzlwyrm head would be a great conversation piece at Oleg’s. He has promised a reward for anyone who can deliver one.
Completion: Deliver a tatzlwyrm head.
Reward: Oleg will pay 600 gp for a relatively undamaged tatzlwyrm head.
Source: Wanted poster at Oleg’s Trading Post
Task: Every Greenbelt hunter has a story about Tuskgutter, each wilder than the last. Whoever manages to kill the ill-tempered beast will get a nice reward from old, retired Vekkel Benzen, who lost his leg to the monster pig a year ago.
Completion: Deliver Tuskgutter’s head to Oleg’s.
Reward: Vekkel has promised his masterwork longbow and six special arrows to whoever can kill Tuskgutter. He also promises to share the head cheese he plans to make out of this trophy.
Here is some the things the charters can do:
- Enjoy the morning sun and lazy talk with the trading post owners.
- Interrogate the captured bandit.
- Track down the bandit that stole Viklop horse.
- Hunt the wanted posters.
- Explore and map the area.
- Help Oleg fix the roof.
- Gather the moon radishes for Svetlana.
There are as well some other non-conventional paths to take, but that’s entirely up to the party.
Damiel wakes after a good nights sleep, refreshed and ready for the new adventure of the charter. He heads to breakfast, and listens to Svetlana. After her tale and request for moon radishes, Damiel responds, this time with a small grin, not his usual scowl, "well, I will to talk with the others, and we need to come to a consensus, but I am sure that as we explore the Greenbelt area, we can bring you back some of these mushrooms to help make your and his life a little richer."
When alone with his companions, "well, what shall we do. We have already started on the bandit poster by killing the bandits that were stealing Oleg goods. That one can be fulfilled just as we explore these lands. Perhaps the kobold problem?"
Rendyl woke with a smile as the birds' song and the multi-hued rays of the rising sun washed over the small keep. The young man felt a little better about the previous day's exploits after a good, hard night's rest, though there still remained the bandits' final resting place that needed digging.
As with the prior evening, the ranger ate in relative silence, enjoying the flavorful repast as though it could be his last good meal in weeks. Which it very well could be. Rendyl listened politely as Svetlana spoke, smiling wistfully as she talked of Oleg. The couple reminded him vaguely of his parents living in the wilds not too far to the north of here. The lanky man was noncommittal about the exotic foods Svetlana asked for, thinking the group had higher priorities at the moment. Damiel's reply suited Rendyl.
As the group took their leave and gathered to discuss next steps, the ranger was torn. The selfish part of him wanted to leave and hunt down the kobolds in the area at once. But to Rendyl, the group's duty was clear. "I believe we talk to this bandit that is tied up, see if we can figure out where they operate out of. Try to get numbers, what kind of weapons they have, anything he can tell us. It would tell us how we need to go about turning them into law-abiding citizens." Or dead ones.
The ranger looks to Damiel and Vik at this juncture. "Perhaps you can persuade our bandit friend to see the error of his ways and help us in this regard? It would go a long way towards him being a proper repentant former bandit." Rendyl then looked to Djebelle, nodding before he went about trying to procure spades so they could begin their grim finale to last night's excitement.
Quietly Vik woke just before dawn and went outside of the palisade. With his sword and stripped to the waist, the young man slowly began to stretch, then move through a number of simple katas to limber up his muscles and get his blood flowing. Within 15 minutes he was moving into more and more advanced forms; whirling, spinning and at one point jumping at imaginary foes. After almost an hour of this, he returned to the Trading Post and, taking a bucket of cold well water, cleaned himself and his clothes as best he could.
Hearing Svetlana up, he offers his assistance getting breakfast ready. As the others slowly arrive at the table he listens to Rendyl and Damiel speak. When Ren asks him about talking to the bandit, Vik agrees.
"I will have a talk with the fellow. I cannot promise anything, but perhaps I can make him see the error of his ways!"
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Tegan chooses to sit near Svetlana, so she can graciously thank their hostess and chef. Tegan takes a modest sip of the wine and sighs ”Oh, that is good.” She smiles, ”You’ve spoiled us!” Tegan looks at her companions, trying to signal they should complement the meal as well.
Feeling full and more relaxed than she’s felt in days, Tegan takes time to appreciate the building they’re in. ”This is an impressive border fort, Oleg. Have you considered repairing the turrets and stationing a few soldiers? Perhaps I can write to Lieutenant Kesten Garess and he can assist you,” Tegan offers, reaching for her backpack. He’s supposed to arrive here anyway. I hope he’s nicer than those bandits.
Tegan opens her well-organized pack and pulls out a stack of parchment neatly tied together with twine, a bottle of ink, an ink pen, and sealing wax. She removes the top sheet of parchment before dipping the pen delicately into the small black bottle. ”Dear Lieutenant Kesten Garess,” Tegan announces as she writes. She pauses to think, formulating her ideas in her mind before committing them to paper. After considering her words, Tegan returns the ink-covered point to the page and writes steadily until she’s finished.
Tegan blows delicately at the parchment to dry it before offering her letter to her companions, Oleg, and Svetlana to read (if they wish.) Tegan’s handwriting is neat and elegant, hinting to years of practiced penmanship from ledger keeping. Each letter is crisply drawn on the page with a graceful flourish on the hanging letters like ‘g’ and ‘y.’
When the letter returns to Tegan after it’s been passed around, Tegan heats the edge of the sealing wax and presses it to the letter’s open to seal it. ”Oleg, would you be able to help me post this letter?” Tegan reaches into her coin purse and pulls out a few copper.
Dear Lieutenant Kesten Garess,
My name is Tegan Ryker. I am one of the adventurers assigned by Lord Mayor Ioseph Sellemius to carry out Lord Noleski Surtova’s charter.
I am pleased to inform you that we have already made progress regarding the bandits. Right when we made it to Oleg’s Trading Post, we were able to intercept a raid lead by a bandit named Happs. You will be pleased to know that we have killed Happs and the majority of his thieving crew. Tomorrow we ride to find and kill more unlawful bandits terrorizing the Green Belt. We have a lead and believe someone named ‘Stag Lord’ may be their leader.
I hope that you and your men will arrive quickly to Oleg’s Trading Post, as there is much work to be done. I believe there is opportunity for the neglected watchtowers with catapults to be repaired and fortified. Perhaps Oleg’s Trading Post would suit your needs a base of operations while providing much needed defense to the trade roads. Please let me know your opinion on the matter.
Safe travels,
Tegan Ryker
Tegan offers to take the last watch because she enjoys the cold morning air. She wraps her blanket around herself before stepping outside the guesthouse. Her hair is an attractive mess of gentle curls from sleeping. (Somehow Tegan manages to look beautiful even when first getting out of bed.) She checks on her pack mule, Milo, still sleeping in the stables. Milo was just an animal she’d purchased to carry her things, but Tegan was still relieved he hasn’t been stolen. Tegan also walks past the stable holding their bandit prisoner to confirm he’s still there.
As Tegan waits for Svetlana to finish preparing breakfast, Tegan plays with a cup of hot water. She places her index finger at the rim of the glass, but hot air continues to rise from the cup. She narrows her eyes and focuses again. To Tegan's delight, a snowflake dots the edge of her fingernail. Moving her finger closer to the edge of the water, Tegan tries again, focusing on the cold air around her. After what seems like forever, Tegan exhales, letting out a warm breath of white air. Did it work? Tegan frowns at the cup of - not steaming - but still lukewarm water, wondering how far her powers extend.
Tegan was so focused on the cup of water, that she jumps in her seat when their hostess appears with breakfast. ”T- Thank you, Svetlana. It all looks delicious.” Tegan finds herself appreciating Svetlana's determination while listening to the woman’s candid conversation about how she and Oleg ended up in the Green Belt.
Tegan focuses her gaze at Svetlana’s eyes, hoping to meet the woman’s gaze. ”Whatever you’re feeling, Svetlana, it’s not your fault.” Tegan holds the gaze for a few moments before waving a hand to the interior of the building, ”I can’t imagine Oleg being here all alone. It’s difficult enough running a rural outpost like this – even without the threat of bandits.” Tegan’s cool exterior warms at the idea of Svetlana cooking Oleg’s favorite meal. She smiles, thinking how cute! I wish- When Peter’s face pops into Tegan’s head, she abruptly stands from the table to feign a stretch. Tegan is thankful to have Damiel promise Svetlana Tegan holds a straight face when the hedgewitch says ‘mushrooms’ but is too polite and too unfamiliar with that particular plant to correct the elf.
"I will have a talk with the fellow. I cannot promise anything, but perhaps I can make him see the error of his ways!"
Tegan turns to Vik with her hands grasped together at her waist, "I- I want to come with you, Vik. I wrote to Lieutenant Kesten Garess about the bandits and I can't help but feel partially responsible for this." Tegan doesn't elaborate on 'this' but in her mind, she reflects back on the ice shards she released on the first bandit. Yes, they'd been bandits, but perhaps she should've confirmed who they were first. Tegan arms herself with her longspear and follows Vik to the stables. "Djebelle, I think it would be a good idea if you came too."
Tegan peers through the door's opening down at the tied up bandit. "I know you may be scared but we're not here to hurt you. We just need you to tell us where the Stag Lord is." Tegan moves to squat next to the bandit and offers a genuine smile, "It doesn't matter who you used to be; what matters is who you decide to be today." Tegan nods at Djebelle as if to say: do you want to take it from here? Tegan wonders if the bandits really can be redeemed - could someone really change their nature? Tegan isn't sure if she believes in redemption, but she's willing to give Djebelle's theory a try... At least if it gets them the information they need.
Djebelle wakes just before dawn, out of habits acquired during her novitiate. She spends some moments outside in prayer, greeting the rising sun, before returning indoors to collect her scimitar and do some exercises - but the moment she touches the hilt, she is assailed by memories of yesterday. She withdraws her hand hastily, as if burned. OK. It won't hurt if she skips a day. Or two.
Besides, nothing can prepare you for the real thing, anyway.
There doesn't seem to be anywhere to wash, so it's straight on to breakfast. She wolfs down her food, smiling at Svetlana. "Thank you, this is absolutely delicious! I'm sure we can find you some moon radishes."
There are however other important matters to deal with as well. She nods at Tegan in agreement as they head off to interrogate the prisoner.
She smiles at him. "My friend here is right. Confession is good for the soul, and it may well keep you alive. So why don't you tell us everything, starting with your name?"
She listens carefully, trying to separate truth from fiction. There's nothing about being good that says you have to be gullible.
Vik takes a little more stern approach when speaking with the prisoner.
"You may have made a comfy little home for yourself living off the sweat and toil of others, but that ended yesterday when we slaughtered your companions and captured you. A representative from the Lord Mayor of Restov will be arriving soon, and he will want to see you dance from the end of a rope for what you and your 'friends' have done here. I am sure Oleg would not shed a tear if you were to be hung! So, answer our questions, be truthful and maybe, just maybe we will intercede on your behalf and instead of death you might find another path to help right the wrongs you have committed. Your choice!"
Intimidation:
Sense motive, Aid another:
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”Don’t be silly dear.” Svetlana says to Tegan ”There’s no way such simple dinner can be considered spoiling and thank you for your kind words.”.
Both Oleg and Svetlana have no suggestion for the letter, it seems good for its purpose, which Tegan described, but when asked for help to deliver the man says ”You said this Kesten will come to the trading post, right? I’ll hold the letter and deliver it when the man gets here.”
As you listen to the couple history and Tegan offers comforting words, Svetlana bites her lip clearly trying to hold on to repressed feelings.
One smaller nudge and the woman would most likely cry buckets at the release of tension and the prospect of good fortune for her loved husband, now that they can finally have peace of mind against the constant assault from bandits.
She thanks everyone for their support and once more ask them to keep a secret from Oleg about the radish; after all, it is no surprise if he finds out about it.
After the meal and talking with the owner’s wife, the group decides to check their prisoner. They approach the stable and after going inside, they are ‘greeted’ by the white steed, which Djbelle called Night.
"Why don't you head off to find the stable, make yourself comfortable? I'll come along in a bit to make sure it's to your liking, and bring you some food."
The horse moves towards the party looking disapprovingly at the cleric, as if to remind the young woman of what she promised the previous evening. She did not visit to make sure everything was okay, nor she brought the promised food, but even so, the white steed seems happy to see the young woman again.
Other than that, there is the matter of the prisoner.
The man seems terrified and scared out of his mind. His eyes are bloodshot and he looks worse than the previous evening, his eyes lighten up with hope as he see the charters, when noticing the horse attention and how it behaves near the young cleric, despair cover his face again.
The man pleads desperately to Viklop and Tegan, avoiding meeting Djbelle’s eyes as if the woman was death incarnated. ”Get this thing ‘way from me!” he yells ”Tis is no horse but the devil incarnated!” hysteria and madness on his face as he says his the words.
On the other hand, Night (the white horse) looks almost bored by the man’s words, as if this had already happened countless times before and the man was just trying to annoy it.
What really happened was that, after Djbelle suggested Night should go to the stables and make herself comfortable, which was exactly what she did. The prisoner, at first found it intriguing, why a horse would willingly come to the stable, without their rider, but it was only when Night leisurely inspected the stalls and selected the one judged the best one that the fear crept into the man’s mind. No normal horse would behave like that.
The poor man tried to edge away from the horse, and Night noticed him for the first time. Finding the man’s action amusing, and knowing why he was afraid, the horse started to act even more strangely. She would walk towards him the stare directly into his eyes, and do many other things that horses wouldn’t usually do, but after a few minutes, Night got bored of the man’s fear and decided to just enjoy the evening while waiting for Djbelle, which promised to visit. Not that it would matter anyway, for the man was already sure that it could be no horse, but a devil incarnated sent by his captors to torment him during the night.
So, when morning comes and the devil owner finally appears, the man is more than willing to spill all of his secrets. He even come up with fake histories in attempt to please his captors.
The bottom line is that he is one poor sod Vicar Gaiallard that joined the group of bandits not so many moons ago. He’s heard about the Stag Lord several times, but he has no idea where the man is, because only “Kressle”, the captain of the bandits here on the north, met the man in person.
Of Kressle, he informs you that she is a vicious woman that commands a group of bandits in the north, and their encampment is southwest of the trading post, about a day away on horseback. Kressed had 20 under her command, with Happs being the sub-captain. There are also several hidden observation posts around the encampment, but only the one close to the camp is actually manned, for no one would dare to oppose them here in the north.
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Rendyl deals with the rather unpleasant task of disposing of the bodies while the other more talkative sorts work on the prisoner in the stable. Soon he breaks into a sweat in the early morning sunlight, but he continues on digging, wanting to get this task over with. He made sure to close any of the men's eyes that happened to be open, but he still felt the eerie sensation of being watched and judged as he steadily worked.
After getting the hole wide enough and deep enough, the ranger starts to drag the bodies into the cavity in the earth, laying the dead men side by side but trying not to just stack them on top of one another. He'd give them at least some dignity in death that they likely never gave their victims in life. After a brief pause, he started piling the dirt back on them. He said no prayers for the men...they had led hard, vicious lives and they were likely paying for that in the afterlife, and no amount of beseeching the gods would change that.
After he was done, he went back into the small fort, tired but glad that the task has been completed. When the others tell him of their talk with the prisoner, he looks thoughtful for a moment. Rendyl then said, "If this Kressel had 20 under her command, almost half her retinue fell yesterday. Since the one escaped, they'll likely be prepared, if they don't fall back to this Stag Lord."
"It doesn't matter who you used to be; what matters is who you decide to be today."
"My friend here is right. Confession is good for the soul, and it may well keep you alive. So why don't you tell us everything, starting with your name?"
(...) "I am sure Oleg would not shed a tear if you were to be hung! So, answer our questions, be truthful and maybe, just maybe we will intercede on your behalf and instead of death you might find another path to help right the wrongs you have committed. Your choice!"
”I’ll do anything! Don’t kill me, I don’t wanna die! Don’t feed me to that devil!” he says looking at the horse. ”There’s also this pass phrase that Kressle taught us to make it sure we can recognize other servants of the Stag Lord. When you meet someone you should say ‘By the bloody bones of Butcher Jones, who goes there?’ and the answer should be ‘Blood, bones and ashes.’”
Completed:
- Interrogate the prisoner.
- Bury the dead bandits.
Ongoing:
- Search for moon radishes.
- Get a tatzlwyrm head.
- Kill tuskgutter.
- Deal with the Kobolds.
- Deal with the bandits.
- Track the bandit that stole Viklop horse.
- Inspect the bandit camp described by Vicar.
- Find the Stag Lord.
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The horse moves towards the party looking disapprovingly at the cleric, as if to remind the young woman of what she promised the previous evening. She did not visit to make sure everything was okay, nor she brought the promised food, but even so, the white steed seems happy to see the young woman again.
Djebelle puts a hand to her mouth in dismay as she remembers the promise she made: "Oh! I'm sorry - I'm not used to, you know... you being around. Tell you what. Once I'm done here, we'll go and see if Svetlana has any apples and then go for a ride, OK?"
She listens to the prisoner, trying to keep an impassive expression, but it is difficult. After all, where would she have ended up, when her mother threw her out, if her uncle had not taken her in? Isn't it possible that she, too, might have joined a band of outcasts if her life had gone in only a very slightly different direction? Who, ultimately, is she to judge?
She looks at the others to try and see what they are thinking. "OK, Vicar. Here's the thing. The charter puts us as the law here, to punish bandits. Unrepentant banditry gets the sword or the rope. You... I'm not sure about. So I suggest we give you a chance. You will work here, as an unpaid labourer for Oleg and Svetlana, and if you behave yourself then we'll see where it takes us. I'm sure they can find use for an assistant to keep this place going, do it up."
She looks directly at Vicar. "This is your second chance at making a life. You won't get a third. Make the most of it."
"Right. Come on, Night. Let's go find some apples."
Once they've done that, she saddles the horse up and spends an hour or so riding around the exterior of the fort, trying to get the hang of it. She'll never be an equestrian, but it is a lot faster than being on foot.
After she's done, she rubs Night down and returns to join the others. "OK. So, do we try and chase down Vik's horse; or go for the bandit camp that Vicar mentioned? It seems to me like everything else can wait except for that - if we don't take the fight to the bandits, they'll come to us. And I'd hate to see any more harm come to Oleg or Svetlana."
Once Djebelle and Night have left, Vik turns back to the ex-bandit.
"You are very lucky my friend. That horse has made greater men than you loose control of their faculties...he must like you. Also if you stray from the 'straight and narrow' they will know...and I do not think I have to tell you what that could mean for you, now do I?"
The warrior gets up and grimly shakes his head at the poor fellow, then turns to hide the grin that had started creeping over his face. He winks at Tegan and gives her a short bow as he holds the barn door open for her.
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Taking the silver amulet with him, Damiel goes to where the prisoner is and listens to the others question the frightened man. When there is a pause in the conversation, he brings out the amulet and shows it to the man, "what is this amulet for? You say you work for Kressle who works for this Stag Lord. Is this his, or a symbol for you?"
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Tegan thinks back to yesterday. Vik’s toned body and his noble’s clothing, clearly establishing who he is as he approaches Tegan. "Such a lack of control could be very dangerous to you and us. If you wish I could teach you some techniques to keep your temper under control.” Tegan wonders if now is one of those moments or if Vik is just acting.
He winks at Tegan and gives her a short bow as he holds the barn door open for her.
To Tegan, Vik carries the outward appearance and facade of nobility, but his actions present him to be more of the warrior type. The type of person who enjoys the rush of battle and dislikes being confined to stuffy ballrooms for extended periods of time. Tegan follows Vik out of the stables and places one of her cool hands on Vik’s forearm to get his attention. She pulls him aside to ask in a hushed tone: ”Vik, didn't you see he was terrified? Why try to scare him more?” Tegans dark eyes search the fighter’s face for an answer, her expression serious.
As Djebelle approaches, Tegan steps back from Vik to greet the cleric with a nod.
After she's done, she rubs Night down and returns to join the others. "OK. So, do we try and chase down Vik's horse; or go for the bandit camp that Vicar mentioned? It seems to me like everything else can wait except for that - if we don't take the fight to the bandits, they'll come to us. And I'd hate to see any more harm come to Oleg or Svetlana."
”Me too. I really like Svetlana,” Tegan replies in earnest. Brainstorming, she adds: ”I have a feeling we’ll find Vik’s horse at the camp.” She turns to the hedgewitch, ”What did the bandit say about the amulet?”
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As the beautiful woman draws him aside, Vik lets his smile drop. He listens to her and sighs.
"Yes the boy is scared..and with good reason. He is running with bandits and is very lucky he was not slaughtered with the others. I want to impress upon him the seriousness of his position, and fear can be a great motivator. I do not want him slinking off from the fort here and back into his old habits. Next time he might not have a very pretty woman to save him. So by making his fear outweigh his motivation to be a bandit he will maybe have a chance. And perhaps once he sees what honest work can bring him he will join the community..or at least stop preying upon it. "
As she draws away from him, the swordlord-in-training feels a fleeting twinge of...something...Sadness? Concern? Maybe Jealousy? It is not a feeling he has felt before, and it makes him miss part of what Djebelle was saying.
Er...what was that? Of the camp. Yes we should go after it sooner than later and deny this Staglord of more of his thugs. Who knows, by the map it looks close to those moon radishes Svetlana was talking about."
Rendyl listens to the conversation of the others as they discuss the group's plans for the bandit and where to go next. He shook his shaggy head as they rushed past a perceived flaw in the plan for the prisoner. His expression was uncomfortable, he would rather this subject had been cut and dry. "Perhaps we should ask Oleg if he is amenable to the idea of this Vicar serving here as suggested. This man might be cowed now, but the moment we ride away we are tossing the dice on his good faith. And putting Oleg and Svetlana's lives at risk in doing so, possibly."
And there it was...the ranger might have condemned the man to die for that statement. But risking the lives of Oleg and Svetlana was worse, in the tall man's mind. Ideally they would ask Oleg to just hold the man until this Kesten person showed up, but that might only be delaying his execution.
"As for the horse, I concur with Tegan. The man likely would have rode back to comfort, which would be his leader, Kressle. We'll likely solve both problems there." The ranger's eyes met that of the lovely lady briefly, a brief nod of agreement offered. While Rendyl is coming around about the previous day, he is still simmering about the sequence of events that started it.
As the group gets ready to go, the lanky man walks up to the horse he has picked out of the steeds they had taken from the fallen bandits. He smiles, patting the beast's flank as he checked the saddle and other equipment to make sure all was in working order. Looking at the rest of his companions, he thought it might be wise to check theirs, as well, and does so quickly. They might all know how to ride, and all know the proper upkeep of such things, but a fall from a trotting horse could break bone.
The next day, Hylaen woke up late. The last the rise, much to his annoyance. It was that place, he knew it. The birds chirping, the bucolic peace, the lazy morning light… it called to his elven nature, something the passage of time could never erase.
The Green Belt. It had none of the urgency of the road and was nothing like his life in the city. As the elf tamed his tangled black hair into the customary braid, memories flooded over him. The last decades were spent in a blink of an eye, in the rush of progress. Hylaen used to live for his work, nothing else, hurrying from one project to another, among experiments to perfect his craft and please his master.. No elf understood why he oblidged to such lifestyle, but the truth is that, despite his constant complaints and lack of sleep, Hylaen loved it.
The elf followed a bird with his eyes, as it flew past the walls of the outpost, outside the window. Hylaen sighted. How… rural he thought, wishing he could be back in the city. Absent-mindedly, the elf rummaged through his pack and produced a small vial from one hidden pocket. A small sip of his old medicine, something to give that day a proper start. He couldn't afford to feel slow on his first morning.
”Ah, Oleg, my good man! How does this beautiful morning find you?” Hylaen marched towards the old human, smiling broadly, not waiting for his reply before going on: ”I meant to talk to you about your wagon, the one full of crates, yes? Well, you might have the charred parts and I apologize for that. You see, I am known for sometimes using fire during hostile situations and got a little carried away yesterday, but don't you worry, I will take of it right away, being my responsibility and all, it will be good as new!”
As he talked loudly, so Oleg could hear him even at a distance, Hylaen hurried to where the wagon was placed. With his portable alchemical kit in hands, humming as he worked, the elf quickly mixed the necessary components to wake the magic inside of every matter, be it living or dead, and warp it to his will. Pouring the mixture over the damaged wood, Hylaen manipulated the strings of magic carefully, removing the excess of fire and restoring earth and water…
Minutes later, the wagon as good as new. Hylaen went back to Oleg. ”There you go. Tell me, is there anything else of the sort you need done? Any tool you might want, anything really, just ask, I already have my kit in hand, why not use it?” said the elf, smiling excitedly.
”Tell me… he says to Oleg, finally. ”Where are the others?
If informed, Hylaen joins the rest of the group, looking around curiously. ”Good day. Did I miss all the... Oh." He stares at the impressive white horse for a moment, but says nothing. ”Hm… so, what are we doing today? Are we going out?”
"Right. Come on, Night. Let's go find some apples."
Once they've done that, she saddles the horse up and spends an hour or so riding around the exterior of the fort, trying to get the hang of it. She'll never be an equestrian, but it is a lot faster than being on foot.
Night happily follows Djbelle out of the stable, and when presented with an Apple, first she smells it, and then takes a small bite, then wolf it down as many Djbelle offered.
Saddling up Night is easy, but she put up a fight once it’s time to put the brittle and the bite. After trying for a couple of minutes with no success, but once the young cleric gives up the idea thinking she somehow is something wrong with what she is doing, the horse lower its body suggesting the woman should mount it, and to Djbelle surprise, even without the brittle and bit, she discovers that she can control Night with more ease than she ever did with any other horse at the temple."You are very lucky my friend. That horse has made greater men than you loose control of their faculties...he must like you. Also if you stray from the 'straight and narrow' they will know...and I do not think I have to tell you what that could mean for you, now do I?"
”No, please noo, don’t feed me to that demon! I won’t flee, I’ll work!” the man wails in panic, he is terrified, it’s clear he’ll say anything that he thinks it’ll please his captors.
"what is this amulet for? You say you work for Kressle who works for this Stag Lord. Is this his, or a symbol for you?"
”I don’t know what it is for. Kressle has one as well, but I don’t know why. Please don’t kill me, don’t feed me to that devil!” his pitiful wailing continues.
"Perhaps we should ask Oleg if he is amenable to the idea of this Vicar serving here as suggested. This man might be cowed now, but the moment we ride away we are tossing the dice on his good faith. And putting Oleg and Svetlana's lives at risk in doing so, possibly."
Djebelle frowns. "That's true. What about this? We keep Vicar tied up for now, but somewhere out of the stables - he's clearly afraid of the horses. Can we keep him in the store-room? Then, when Lieutenant Garess and his men arrive, there'll be enough people here to keep an eye on him, if he decides to make trouble."
She looks at Vicar, holding out her holy symbol. "Vicar, it sounds to me like you're saying anything to try and stay alive. I can't help that, but as a priestess of Sarenrae, you will not be harmed if you do no harm. I'm sorry the horses scared you. Let's find somewhere for you to be so you don't have to be near them."
While her party members are finishing up any remaining morning tasks, Tegan approaches Svetlana. ”We may be gone for a couple days while we eradicate the bandits. We’ll need rations and feed for the horses. Could I purchase some from you? At least two days worth for each of us.” Tegan pulls out a little extra coin, ”I would also appreciate it if you and Oleg could house and feed Milo, my mule, until I return. I haven't decided if I want to keep him or sell him… but a bandit encampment probably isn't the best place for a mule.”
After settling the food situation, Tegan returns to the stables. Tegan informs her companions about the rations and feed she's procured and stores her portion inside the saddlebags on the horse she'll be riding - a solid brown with a black mane.
Tegan pets Milo’s nose and feeds him a carrot before moving back to the brown horse with the black mane. Ugh. This is going to be embarrassing. After loading up all her valuables, there was nothing left to do but mount the horse. Tegan stands awkwardly with one hand on the saddle and the other on the bridle. How am I supposed to get up there? Tegan puts a foot in the stirrup and is uncomfortably aware that there isn't going to be a graceful way to mount the horse. Both her lack of riding skills and the skirts of her dress would attest to it.
He smiles, patting the beast's flank as he checked the saddle and other equipment to make sure all was in working order. Looking at the rest of his companions, he thought it might be wise to check theirs, as well, and does so quickly. They might all know how to ride, and all know the proper upkeep of such things, but a fall from a trotting horse could break bone.
While Rendyl checks Tegan’s horse, she asks ”Do you mind giving me a- a boost, please?” Tegan turns her gaze helplessly from the ranger to her horse. Once ungracefully mounted, Tegan has to dedicate a few minutes to adjusting her dress to cover her legs and tucking in fabric so the leather saddle won't chafe her thighs. She isn't a skilled enough rider for sidesaddle, still, Tegan prefers dresses to pants.
Saddling up Night is easy, but she put up a fight once it’s time to put the brittle and the bite. After trying for a couple of minutes with no success, but once the young cleric gives up the idea thinking she somehow is something wrong with what she is doing, the horse lower its body suggesting the woman should mount it, and to Djbelle surprise, even without the brittle and bit, she discovers that she can control Night with more ease than she ever did with any other horse at the temple.
Tegan watches the cleric and white horse in awe. ”You must have a way with horses, Djebelle!” Then, Tegan creases her brow, as if confused: ”Err, which bandit had this horse?” The prisoner said Night was a demon but he can't be with Djebelle riding him… can he?”
Tegan clicks her tongue and gently applies pressure with the heel of her boot to get the horse moving. "Let's kill some bandits and get Vik's horse back." Tegan turns her beautiful face towards the horizon, her blue dress and apron billowing gently in the breeze.
"Good thinking Tegan. Here take this to help pay for our food and stabling."
He hands the woman a pouch with 33gp. He then moves to the front beside Rendyl.
"So Ren...can I call you Ren? So, do you think you can track my horse and that bandit? I know we have a general direction to the camp, but I just want to make sure he has not taken off somewhere else, if that is possible."
The trading post owner seems reluctant accept help from the almost stranger and masked adventurer. He ponders for a moment before finally giving in, if the man had any ill thoughts, he would have done something already. Even so, he asks helps with fixing his roof and even restoring old tools which have been abused by time and work.
--
One thing our charters didn’t consider or maybe didn’t want to think of the possibility, is that Vicar isn’t scared of horses, he is scared of a horse. Oleg isn’t all too happy for being entrusted the guard of the prisoner, but it’s also easy to dispel the man’s worries, even more then then charters remind him of the soldiers, which would arrive (they hoped) shortly.
Svetlana doesn’t allow you to pay for your stay, in her eyes, you’ve save their lives and the least they could do is offer you free lodging and meals, whenever you drop by the trading post. Of course the charters didn’t mention to the couple yet, that they might use the old fort as base of operations.
--
The group prepares to move out, hunting the bandit that escaped, and hopefully arriving at the camp mentioned by Vicar.
One thing that other might not have noticed as well, for Tegan, there are no thoughts of redemption; a good bandit is a dead bandit.
It is already afternoon when the party finishes they preparation and depart the trading post, they leave after lunch, which Svetlana served meat, soup, bread and vegetables.
Bright sun casts its light over their heads and not a single cloud in the sky; a perfect that, as if to announce to all of the stolen lands things aren’t the same anymore. Conquerors had arrived, and they wouldn’t be stopped.
It is not difficult to follow the bandit track, but Rendyl has to stop, several times to study the ground and decide where to go next which make the trip slower that it usually would have been. The trails lead you south from the trading post, and it seems that the destination will be the camp described by Vicar.
Night falls, and you are miles away from the safety of the old fort walls. Do you press on during the night, or do you stop to rest?
As Tegan asks for help mounting her horse, the rangers nods, moving behind her and encircling her waist with his hands before easily lifting her up, his long arms able to place her on the saddle with little effort. A blush stains his ruddy cheeks as the perch causes the lovely lady's dress to ride up, exposing a large portion of porcelain leg. He gave the horse a quick pat and moved on to help any others.
As Vik moves beside him Rendyl shrugged. He had never had someone call him 'Ren' before, but it didn't matter much to the young man. As the swordlord continued, the ranger replied, "Of course...the last thing we want to find is that we're being led into an ambush or that our quarry has doubled back."
Rendyl cursed quietly as he had yet again had to stop and look about before finding the trail of the escaped bandit once again. City life had made him soft, diluting the skills he had acquired through long years of practice. When night falls, the ranger dismounts, motioning for the others to do the same. "We should stop for the night. Tracks are hard to follow by moonlight, and we risk the horses stumbling about in the dark."
The lanky man finds a nearby set of trees to tether the horses to, making sure to unsaddle his beast. Horses could develop chafes and sores just like a person, so it was important to remove any unnecessary equipment. He doesn't have a brush, so he rubs the steed down with his hands, whispering soothingly to it as he does so. Once that task is done, he gathers his bedroll and stakes himself out a spot to lay down, getting set up to bed down.