Mia looks more than apprehensive at the coming conclusion. It was likely sending her out in the wilds was no more than an execution in disguise for someone that may never have been taught how to survive there. And again, if she was trained in wilderness survival, it was only a matter of time before she found her way back to Galt.
Um... er. If she has had wilderness training, I doubt that she would be unable to find her way back. Especially since, for the most part, one could just follow the river.
"That's why I said where we went to find the lumber, girl. Nowhere near us or the river, or Galt."
"I still think it best we just take care of the murderer like a murderer should be taken care of. How many others in the future will hear how she got off with being exiled and just claim political motivation for any wrongdoing they do? I don't like it."
He paused and frowned clearly a thought had occured to him and it wasnt a nice one. He sighed and shook his head to himself.
"We could exile her publicly, then take her far away to release her in the wilds... and pass the true sentence out there, where no one can make a martyr of her. It seems dishonest, but no more dishonest than murdering a man and trying to make someone else take the fall for it."
Kalig sighs. "One thing I think not any of you are paying attention to is that she mentioned 'more settlers' are coming--that Galt would come here and bring its revolution with it. She is not a lone actor. And she may well have other contacts and allies here that we need to root out. This isn't going to end with Hatha, no matter what we do to her. But if we give them fuel for their fire it will bring their invasion faster."
She shakes her head. "The only thing I will add about execution is this--Hatha nearly successfully framed Sabine. What if we had not found enough evidence to realize it was Hatha and not Sabine? You would now be urging for the execution of Sabine, an innocent woman, and a mother. The punishment we choose now will set the standard for how we treat future criminals. And at some point, no matter how careful we are, an innocent may well end up being accused--and killed, if that is the method of punishment we choose." She shakes her head. "I am not known as a merciful woman. And if Hatha attacked me I'd have no qualms about killing her. I also do not prize injustice. I lived among orcs for many years, and they would kill for the slightest wrongdoing--and with little evidence. I know we are not likely to stoop as low: but all I say now: the steps we take today will define our justice tomorrow. Let us be sure it is not a kind of justice that ends with good people slain by mistake."
She shakes her head. "With all your notions flying about, I now do not know what to do, in truth, and I am the last person to consult on altruism or law. All I want is to protect this town. Whatever you decide, I'll abide by. But I ask you--make sure we accomplish keeping the town protected--not just now, but when the next crime is committed... and when Hatha's friends come riding in later."
With that, she leaves.
Aristide groans and rubs his head, sharing Kalig's frustration.
"I am glad I dismissed Hatha. I would not want to give her the satisfaction of watching our struggle to decide her fate."
He sighs, and his eyes rove across you, his close advisers and allies.
"If I were to pronounce exile as her punishment, would you dear souls be good enough to escort her far north, to the forested fringe of Iobaria, and deposit her there? I will quietly inform our guards, as well as Fendir and Harkan, to watch carefully for her return in the days to come."
He stiffened and bit back a sigh.
"Of course my lord."
He began with a quick bow. He turned to go then realized he was well in his own place and that there was no where really to go so instead he stood there awkwardly waiting for the others to agree or not. He instead of fretting over the decision started to wander to others. namely Sabine. He wondered if there were any of there people who would want to try to learn how to build versus destroy. He had found help cooking so why wouldnt they be able to find help in that.
"I do not like that this murderer gets just exile but I appreciate the arguments. I would escort her, yes."
When the discussion winds down, Dorick will finally leave to pick up Caragus and seek his bed.
The rest of the ill-starred night passes fitfully, albeit with no new tragedies or mischiefs.
In the morning, you report to the sturdy Kaskkari ruin where the village guards kept Hatha overnight. The shell's tall stone walls ensured she could not climb to freedom, to say nothing of the rotation of guards who kept their sharp eyes upon her.
"So what will it be?" the butcher woman asks. She tries to sound defiant, but you can detect the underlying fear in her voice. Her eyes are bloodshot and bear bags, bespeaking the sleepless hours she spent reflecting upon her situation.
"We are leaving, with you in tow.", Dorick says simply, not wishing to give much away to this lunatic revolutionary.
"Cowards," she says with a harlequin's smile. "Don't want to be seen dirtying your hands, eh? I only hid my actions because my work needed to continue. You, on the other hand, don't want to lose the sheep's respect."
Despite her taunts, Hatha offers no resistance.
Her wrists remain tightly bound behind her back, giving her trouble as she tries to cautiously rise to her feet.
"In this battle, 'tis better to be feared than loved. I don't need their respect because I know what I stand for. I will die a Gardener, a champion of Galt. I die protecting our people from those who would put them in chains again. Even if I die, the revolution will live on."
"the only reason I haven't slit your throat and watered the earth with your blood murderor is because this was the course of action chosen. Take care you don't slip and fall onto my blade."
He growled out at being called a coward, his grip clenched on the hilt of his rapier. He knew her taunts were just that taunts and they didnt meant anything if it were just he and Sir Dorick he might try to convince the man that they should just end her here and now and be done with the threat. Then again the man had a code he lived by Francoix believed. Dorick was certainly a more noble man than he was.
"once more word and I will take that slippery tongue of yours and cut it out. The lord didnt say we had to leave you healthy and whole."
He added annoyed greatly with the woman.
Dorick stares daggers at Hatha at her words.
"That you will, Gardener. Obsessed with your lunatic dreams of blood. I have stared down far worse in this lands than the likes of *you*. If you wish any mercy from me, you would have a great deal of apologising to do. Now, we move."
Hatha is cowed into silence. She is doubly taken aback: first by the unexpected aggression from the innkeeper, and then by the fact that the cavalier does not rein him in. For the journey north, Lord d'Beranza offers the service of two of his heavy horses for those who lack mounts.
The trek across the Whistling Plains is somber and quiet. The wind blows gently off the Castrovin Sea, stretching far and wide to the east. The air is dry, and the day spares you the usual overbearing heat of high summer.
After ferrying the murderess over many miles of open grasslands, the pine forest comes into view.
Mia would go along.
Here, I don't agree with what you did, but I'd rather not starve someone either. I ask you, why is your mission so much more important than the peaceful lives of these folk? What makes your actions any better than a tyrant lording over his people with an iron fist? At least give it thought, you may say that your cause is just, but so to would any tyrant. Why is this revolution worth the spilling of so much blood?
As the forest nears, Mia look to her again, wondering and trying to gauge if her words had any effect at all or just bounced of a harden wall before doing anything further.
Kalig joins the party in the morning, but is not packed for travel, nor has her donkey with her.
"I think you all can handle this journey without me, especially as you have Mia's knowledge and potions to rely on. I want to stay and see that others are recovering from the damage this woman has done." She gives Hatha a good glare. "So proud she is, to instill fear and doubt in the hearts of common farmers and fishermen desperate for a better life. What a hero, indeed."
She shakes her head. "Anyway, it's dawned on me that with my shrine I am the closest thing this little hamlet has for a priest. God help us all that it is up to me to provide ministry, but here we are. But I don't want to leave you empty handed. Here," she holds out a pouch to Francoix. "These are some goodberries. They will only last the day and are nothing compared to your cooking, but they will both feed and heal."
"Be careful. Take some of the guard with you if you need. Don't let her provoke you. It's all the power she has."
Kalig gives the group a nod and goes on her way.
"The guard can remain. Thank you, Kalig, and see you in short order."
On the morrow, the murderous butcherwoman no longer seems as hardened. The night was sleepless for her, and she likely came to realize her position. She views the rest of your party as would-be executioners; that is, with guarded fear and open suspicion.
However, there is a flicker of trust when she looks to you. She does not see you as friends, but she sees you as the least likely to kill her.
...
A large crowd assembles to see you off. They offer praise and prayers for the party, but the loudest among them instead heap curses and invectives upon Hatha. Most of the crowd is composed of the newcomers who arrived by riverboat, as the longer-term residents are more invested in starting their daily labors instead.
Viscount Aristide makes a pronouncement to the crowd, officiating Hatha's punishment and reaffirming your own role as the duly appointed protectors of Haven.
"Miss Kalig!" the farmer calls. "One of our oxen is calving, but there's a problem. The calf isn't coming out. Can you help?"
Kalig gives a nod, understanding this is an urgent thing. "Lead the way... and remind me of your name."
"This was a long way to travel just for an execution," Hatha says, nervously scanning the tall line of looming pines ahead. "I suppose this means you've a mind to exile me? I'll miss getting to hear the latest rumors about Miss Silverstone and Miss Ravenlock's assistant."
She says this with a smile somewhere between mischievous and wistful. She tries to sound defiant, but it's clear she will sorely miss the comfort that Haven provides out here, beyond the edge of Avistan.
Mister Calderwood leads you to his farmstead, just past the wall built by Fendir's tribe. The only two buildings that define the site are a cabin and barn. Lines of large fieldstones mark the pasture, but it would be overly generous to call them a wall. In lieu of a wall, Calderwood's many children are vigilantly keeping the oxen in check.
He leads you into the long, low barn. The air is thick with the smell of hay and the tang of blood. A cow lies in the corner, lowing sadly. You can identify tell-tale signs of a difficult birth.
"Very perceptive. You can preach your revolution and justify your murders to the trees. Do not return to Haven."
If none of the others have anything to add, Dorick makes to release her.
"Do I get a knife or any sort of tool to survive out here?" she asks flatly as her hands are unbound. "You need not fear my hand bearing it against you. I'm not crazy enough to try such a foolish thing. I'm not crazy at all."
She pauses to look each of you in the eye, gauging your response to her assertion.
"Say and think what you will of me. It won't change what's coming. More of our kin are coming, fleeing the march of Taldor's tyranny. They carry the spirit of Galt, keeping it alive. Will you greet them with spears and swords?"
| 1 person marked this as a favorite. |
But should we fear you bearing against another of our friends? And, while I wont say you are, I will say that anyone, whoever they be, are so willing to take life so wantonly in the name of some vague ideal is devilishly close to tyranny themselves.
After saying that, she reaches into her pouch and grabs 2 more good berries and hands them to her. These will keep you fed for two days, after that, you are on your own... She then tentatively answers her question. For your... kin... as in all ways of life, we will do what we must. I hope that we do not need to, but.... She looks around to the other two kind of sheepishly, not used to speaking so bluntly. but... we will defend our own, and ourselves. If you care about stopping needless bloodshed... please. Tell us what you can.
Dorick snorts at Hatha's assertion and is about to speak his mind. But then Mia asks her question and the cavalier realises there may be a chance of a reply, if he stills his own tongue.
If we had the magic to tear the madness from your skull, I would trust you with a knife. Not one moment before. Even now, you delude yourself that the Red Revolution is not a gaggle of blood-crazed murderers and iconoclasts. Perhaps you will speak out of hope of scant mercy.
"I'll see what I can do."
Kalig kneels down by the struggling cow, muttering "Easy there, girl, easy," in calm tones. Whispering a brief orison to grant her a bit of luck () she lays her hands on the cow's pregnant belly to assess the situation and position of the calf.
The simple gift of the berries works as well as any impassioned plea or forceful intimidation, encouraging Hatha to speak more freely.
"We follow the greatest of Galt's champions: Citizen Borjan," she announces with almost worshipful zeal. "After he reorganized the Stavintower militia and executed all the bandits and thieves plaguing the town, he moved on to restore Edme to greatness. He brought food to end the famine, then he tore down the Jubannich Library, which had harbored a cult that was using children to perform blood rites."
She pauses to spit upon the ground, cursing the villains she speaks of, as well as to keep herself somewhat composed.
It was all he could do most of the trip to keep his rapier in its sheath and when Hatha spoke of it being a long trip for an execution he almost said something then...but he bit his tongue still. His scowl was obvious, though he managed to bite it back as well when miss Mia showed the murderer far more kindness than she deserved with the berries.
As the woman went on to extoll the virtues of one of Galt's champions his grip tightened even more on his rapier and the color drained from his face even as he grimaced. He didnt remember a whole lot about his father, he just recalled he always had a smile on his face for Francoix and stories about other towns and places. He remembered the nightmares that had finally faded maybe a decade ago when his father was drug off and murdered for no other reason than being owed money by one of the early revoltions leaders.
He remembered more accurately his mother falling as they ran two crossbow bolts sticking from her back when the caravan was being raided by members of the watch. She was a good woman, and did what she could to take care of him. He took a deep breath and reached up wiping at his eyes.
He caught Sir Dorick's eye and he immediately turned away and mounted his horse, kicking it away from Hatha. If he stayed any longer in her proximity bad things would happen. for Noemie's sake he had to clear the area and his head.
Dorick nods at Francoix, then turns to Hatha, his own anger welling too much for him to continue stilling his tongue.
"How many bandits and brigands now ravage the once-proud land of Galt, with the 'rule' of your dozen governments? Not to mention the innocents slaughtered on the whims of you and your ilk? If the likes of Citizen Borjan had stuck to slaying bandits, Galt would still be a place worth living in and not seeing its cities fall into ruin. Goodbye, Hatha. May I never meet you or your colleagues again."
He then turns himself and Caragus around, and makes to leave.
Kalig asks the farmer to get some clean rags. Then she sets to trying to turn the calf around.
Once the calf is out ( she will cast stabilize on both creatures if need be.
Hatha demonstrates at least a modicum of good sense when she makes no move to follow the party. Instead, she takes her first hesitant steps towards the forest. Nevertheless, she cannot resist calling out some parting words.
"Haven will be a fresh start for us all! A clean slate, free from the mistakes of the past! Citizen Borjan will build something magnificent!"
As you travel opposite paths, a hill rises between the party and Hatha, and you can see her no longer.
The domesticated animal offers no resistance despite the discomfort (to say the very least) she must feel. Perhaps she instinctively trusts your touch. It is messy, unpleasant work, but you turn the calf and slide it head-first down the birth canal.
As soon as you clean the viscera from the newborn, it offers a wheezing cry as it takes its first gasps for air.
The calf is healthy, but the mother is another story. However, your talent for healing - greatly bolstered by your accompanying magic - guides her away from the Boneyard. Soon enough, she is weakly nuzzling and cleaning her calf.
Calderwood doffs his straw hat and wipes a bead of sweat from his forehead, a heavy sigh of relief falling from his lips.
"Thank you, thank you kindly, Miss Kalig," he offers his profuse thanks. "I think we woulda lost mother and calf without you. And I don't know how my own family woulda fared without either."
The party returns to Haven well before sundown, with several hours of daylight left to them. Freed from the burden of Hatha, there is a clear sense of relief among the settlers of Haven. Unfortunately, they do not bear the burden of knowledge. They do not know that more people like Hatha are presently marching east across the Whistling Plains.
On the return journey
"I allowed that witch to get under my skin.", Dorick bluntly announces.
He sighs.
"Now we have to look forward to more scum like her arriving. Damn them!"
Kalig cleans off her hands with some rags thoroughly. "I'm glad you asked me for help, Calderwood. Let me know how they are doing tomorrow."
Kalig walks through the town, exhausted, sweating, and covered in another creature's blood.
I do not think scum is the proper term sir Dorick. I fear they are just misguided. But that makes them just as dangerous, if not more so. because unlike scum, they truly believe in their purpose. Though, there may yet be a diplomatic solution. Mia is more or less lost in thought during the return journey.
He was silent until they were a good long way from Hagtha, then once he could no longer back he began to sob, quietly at first. But then pretty freely. Aware the others were probably looking at him askance he took a deep breath, then another. A third.
"I have a name now for the man responsible for my mothers death."
He began stiffling back another sob.
"My father was killed early in the madness, and my mother, desperate to keep me safe, took shelter with a man who owned a trading caravan. Caravan is a nice word for it, they traveled from town to town, selling goods by day, robbing them at night and leaving before any were the wiser.
She had kept most of those activities from me, it was a shock when my mother and a few others were killed while fleeing from a robbery gone bad. I was young then, the moralities of the situation too much for my mind to grasp. My father had been a good man, my mother turned to the theft in desperation. She didnt deserve her fate."
He opened his mouth to say something more than just snapped it shut starring angrily ahead.
Dorick does his level best to keep his tone civil when he replies to Mia.
"I did not misspeak, Mia. These 'Grey Gardeners' maddened themselves into butchery and then eagerness to blame everyone but themselves for the state of Galt. They took a nation and filled it with ruins and rivers of blood. I was exiled there in all but name to assist Galtan nobility. It was a death sentence without having to shed my blood there and then, and all in court knew it. Had I not encountered Aristide, I would surely have been cut down by *her* ilk, praising themselves for their fine work all the while."
**********
Dorick is taken aback by Francoix's words.
"Francoix, that...must have been awful. I have no words."
The calving is not the last favor Kalig is approached with that day, though it is thankfully the only difficult task. The other requests are largely other farmers asking for blessings upon their land, as well as newcomers asking for advice on the best crops to plant in this unfamiliar soil.
Once the party is reunited in Haven, it comes as no surprise when you are summoned before Viscount Aristide again.
"I would much rather discuss all the good that we have accomplished," he laments. "The first fields are plowed and sown. Most of our people have houses that will see them through the rough seasons. We've even made cordial contact with the Keleshites and locathah. I truly wish we did not have to meet as though assembling a war council."
He bids Gustav fetch him a drink of water. The viscount irrigates his throat before continuing with the dire business.
"During her questioning, Hatha revealed she had sent a message back with the dwarves. At the time, this was hardly unusual. A few settlers sent letters to family back home. We can assume that, rather than family, hers was a letter destined for her fellow anarchists. There is no telling how quickly they may organize, but it would take at least three weeks - and likely closer to four - for them to make the crossing and arrive here.
"Did Hatha speak anything else that might offer a clue regarding her compatriots?"
"She did. Their leader is one Citizen Borjan.", Dorick adds with a dour note in his voice.
"I almost wish you had named any other man," the viscount groans, planting his chin in his hand like a stake in the ground.
"Few men better embody the danger and hypocrisy of the Red Revolution than the Bloody Baron.
"He is terribly skilled at manipulating the mob. He earns their loyalty by fostering their fear and anger. He distracts from his own vices and crimes by casting accusations at others. He simultaneously disavows his noble roots while relishing how they still call him baron."
Aristide pauses his explanation to sigh heavily.
"Borjan is a dangerous man. I cannot overstate that. As long as he stands among them, it may be impossible to reason with the wave of Galtan expatriates coming our way."
"He may be dangerous. Gods know the Grey Gardeners are not to be underestimated. But he is still a man and he can still fall. He will not have the advantage of home turf this time - or his usual multitude of sycopants."
He had been silent of course, two things battling through his mind the whole trip back. He had thhought he had made peace with the idea of the man being there now in front of lord Aristide he wasnt so sure.
"Then perhaps it stands we dont reason. We meet them in the field before they get to the walls. We explain that if they wish to settle here, well then, they better understand this isnt Galt. If they refuse we drive them away, preferably north. Let the horsemen deal with them.
I...Have a history with this Borjan as well my lord, not personally per say, but."
He swallowed and tugged at his collar and frowned a moment.
"He and his mobs strung up my mother, we were hungry and she did what she had too to keep me fed. I was just a lad then, didnt even have a name to the leader but I do know. I won't cause no trouble, but I can't say I will keep my calm if he barges in here and starts trying to bully folk with his mobs."
He finished not even realizing how tight his fist was clenched on the hilt of his rapier.
"Can we ask the centaurs to keep an eye out for them? Serve as advance scouts? The rebels are unlikely to try to ally with them."
"I approve of both ideas, truth be told. Convince the centaurs to warn us, then we hunt down the mob of killers. I would not trust them to settle here. They would surely lie as Hatha did."
The viscount sighs heavily.
"Despite my infirmity, I have never felt like half a man. That changes here, now that I feel so impotent to stop such reckless hate and fear. I'd trade everything left to my name to welcome our former countrymen as long-lost friends rather than invaders. I've learned that life is scarcely so kind, however.
"Our centaur neighbors, regardless of tribe, would be good allies. Another one of the Bloody Baron's delightful traits is his abhorrence for non-humans. From the tales I've heard of his exploits, he was always keen to direct his followers' bloodlust against elves and so-called 'half-bloods'."
He pauses to cast an apologetic look towards Kalig, wordlessly begging her pardon.
"If he were to plant his bitter roots in our land here, he would soon turn his followers upon the slaughter of the centaurs and locathah. He slakes their bloodlust, and it overcomes their reason more potently than pesh or opium. Thus he keeps them in his almost magical thrall."
Aristide buries his face in his hand, frustrated by the looming situation.
Back in Galt, it was widely rumored that this demagogue has a deep distrust and even hatred for the Gray Gardeners. Despite his claims to be a man of the people, Borjan plays a dangerous game: living like a noble while disguising that's what he's doing. The Gray Gardeners, of course, would never tolerate such a thing.
Thus, the carefully whispered rumors back in Galt claim that whenever Borjan builds up his base of supporters, he quietly ferrets out the identities of local Gardeners and has them eliminated, lest they threaten his own power and life. Therefore, it seems unlikely that there would be many - if any - surviving Gray Gardeners left among the group he leads. His followers will likely be just ordinary albeit misguided Galtans.
Dorick stands, sympathetic to his lord's frustration.
"We should speak with the centaurs without delay. Even the tribes that are less friendly to us should be warned about this looming menace."
"Aristide, something has occurred to me that is important. I had the misfortune of upsetting a Gray Gardener before my decision to join your venture, as I believe you are aware. I've been trying to remember where I heard of the name 'Borjan' and I remember now--the Gardeners were using his name as a curse--both as someone to be avoided as hunting them, and as an example of someone pretending to be what they are not. As you mentioned he enjoyed being called 'baron' even while raising rabble against the nobility. The more... principled, if you can call it that, Gardeners would consider that hypocritical and he avoids or fights their company. Therefore, whoever he marches with is probably mostly ordinary Galtans. Misguided ones, and still dangerous--but we will not be necessarily facing a trained inquisition."
She frowns. "This isn't to say we shouldn't be careful, quite the contrary. But if we charge in ready to fight Gray Gardeners and instead slaughter deluded farmers... well, that changes things. I'll be honest... my first gut was to just see what is coming for us dead and us free from the revolution once and for all. But if we are not careful, we'll continue to leave embers that will later spark another flame. Maybe some of his number could be turned against him... but anyone who is brought here needs to accept not just the centaurs, leshies, and locathah, but the orcs and hobgoblins as well. At the same time, if worse comes to worst, we may be able to ask our allies for aid--I would not ask the leshies and locatha to fight, but they may be able to provide materials or guidance that would be entirely unexpected to a group of fools driven by the notion of human purity."
Kalig's illumination brightens the viscount's face by a shade.
"Of course!" he gasps in awe. "How else could that cad have survived those hidden hunters for so long? He was turning their own bloody game against them. This provides a glimmer of hope, but the situation remains treacherous nonetheless.
"You are correct. As new neighbors, asking the locathath to fight would be outright folly - even more so the leshys, given how...poorly figured they are for war. While the centaur tribes could likely be recruited as mercenary allies, we would need to countenance what could be spared as payment.
"If we could make this a battle of words and rescue our former countrymen from Borjan's vile rhetoric, that would spare so much bloodshed. It would also be the end of his malignant career of demagoguery."
"If we could save them with words...that would be a fine slap to the face of that scoundrel. Although I must admit to some amusement at the thought of him turning Gardener against Gardener."
"We have but four weeks at most to prepare," the viscount declares, "and prepare we must."
In turn, Aristide addresses each of you and humbly makes a request, calling upon your talents to ready Haven for what may come.
"Sir Dorick, I am pleased by your efforts to assemble and train a militia to protect us from threats. Do not run them too ragged, but it may be wise to redouble your efforts at drilling them. We must make sure they are ready to defend what we have built, should the worst come to pass."
"Mia and Kalig, our best hopes at taming and living in harmony with this new land have always been in your hands. I am loathe to turn your gifts to war, but would it be within your power to create natural defenses, such as earthen berms or briars to restrict hostile advance? We may also want to visit our leshy friends to see if they could help improve our first harvest. If we coax these newcomers away from Borjan's influence, we will suddenly have yet more mouths to feed."
"Francoix, I must ask of you perhaps the most regrettable of favors. You are the most genial person in all of Haven, and you've built up a connection with almost everyone in our community. Please keep your eyes and ears open for any other lurking serpents like Hatha. There is too much at stake to not be cautious."
Kalig nods. "Of course. I can use my excavation spell to dig some pits--and there is a similar spell for creating something like a berm. I couldn't cast that many in a day, but it can help expedite establishing defenses, which Fendir may have insights on how to do as well. I will talk to him." She pauses, thinking. "And yes, I can also talk to the leshys about what might be done to encourage growth. Beyond feeding anyone, if they see our farms are thriving while they have marched for weeks eating rations--and from all you have said about Borjan I doubt he is making an effort to provide the finest of food--they may turn tail without much effort at all if they see we thrive and treat everyone well when they don't try to kill us." She spreads her hands. "The entanglement spell that Mia and I can cast is one that will only last a few minutes--it can be used during the fight but can't be used for preparation. I know of a druidic spell that does encourage plant growth in a variety of ways that could be used to enhance the crops and encourage the local bushes to become dangerously overgrown... but first of all it is outside my capability. I can work on trying to practice it but I can't produce it right now. Mia and I seem to have roughly the same capability in terms of spells we can cast, although of course she can make all those handy potions, which could keep our troops hardy and hale. You do not want to drink anything I make you, unless it's a glass of whiskey. Anyway, again, I'll see what the leshys may suggest."
"I will endeavour to have my charges ready.", replies Dorick, with a sharp salute.
The mood in Haven is far from uniform. Some of your settlers face the day with bravado, confident that they will triumph over the coming invaders. Others are quite nervous, almost terrified of the prospect of looming battle. Such fear is heightened by the notion that they might soon find themselves again under the bloody thumb of mob rule.
Thus, you come to suspect that your preparations will serve the dual purpose of readying Haven against the coming conflict and steeling the will of those who look to you for protection and guidance.
More recruits than ever before report for training with Sir Dorick, including most of Fendir's adult kin and every adult orc-kin from Harkan's band.
When Kalig makes the short hike to the verdant ziggurat, she finds the leshies lined up at the gate, like students patiently waiting for their teacher.
At some point during their preparations Kalig says to Francoix, "A lot of people are nervous. Don't underestimate the role you may have in helping reassure folks. You've endured the worst of Galt and survived. Your inn is a place of solace for the community. Let these be strengths for not just yourself but everyone."
When Kalig approaches the leshies, she gives them a smile, and sits down upon the steps of the zigurrat to speak with them.
Kalig explains what she needs carefully, pausing to answer any questions.
"My friends, some people are on their way who may hurt us. They would arrive within one cycle of the moon. They are led by a man who thirsts for blood for all who would defy him--and he believe all live to defy him." She pauses. "Similar to Il Shuma--though he is human, not plant--he was a protector of his land but time and blood has twisted his mind into something dark, who would hurt all. The people he has brought with them are confused, whipped into rage by him... they can be dangerous to us."
"One of the things we need to do to prepare is be sure we have enough food, both to feed us well, and also to tempt away the people this bad man has fooled. The wheat, the long yellow grasses the people tend in the plains, we rely upon the wheat seeds to eat, and need as much of them at full seed as possible within the month. Other fruits and seeds, too, that we tend to, we need to be sure we have enough of. Would you know of ways to help coax them to grow, and keep the plants safe from birds, rats, and ergot?"
"I know we have to be careful... I recognize I am asking you to help push the work of the seasons along and that is tricky. But any advise you offer I would appreciate. We would of course be sure to protect you from the people who come, and if there is anything else you need, you need only ask."
Dorick throws himself whole-heartedly into his duty of training, drilling, and encouraging his recruits. He demonstrates strokes of sword, spear, and shield. He runs all through exercises to strenghen bodies and speaks of courage in defense of one's home.
Dorick does his best, and he prays in quiet moments that it will be enough.
_HRF.jpg)
