You have all been presented with (or "inherited") a offical charter to go south and establish a strong trading post to the south. This is no surprise as you feel the swordlords have had enough of the bandit attacks from the south which makes trade with the River Kingdoms let along any other nation near the rivers anything but easy.
You have been supplied with a incomplete map of what has been revealed in the stolent lands so far. This map only has the road and the outpost you are heading to explored. The unexplored areas are for you all to map out and complete in your own time.
You all met up at a common agreed upon meeting point just outside the stolen lands before following the road down to the trading post owned by a man you only know as Oleg Leveton with his wife Svetlana which you have been informed in your interview when given the chart. Currently you are riding towards the outpost you can just barely make out in the distance.
This is the crest of a knight who surved under the Rogarvia family. Though the family dissappeared their working staff involving maids, guards and knights didn't. This was some time ago and the armour most likely belongs to a man of advanced years.
Tholamin looks around at his companions noting the majority of human heritages. He then notes the terrain surrounding them looking for the outpost they are traveling to as he strokes the chest plumage of his hawk familiar. He turns to the party members and addresses them in a low polite tone.
"I am unfamiliar with this plane, however, I would like to introduce myself to you all and get to know everyone. My name is Tholamin of the human house Medvyed."
Ganit studies his associate. An elf. In his lifetime he's only worked with a handful. Most of them both skittish and carelss, nothing like the forests ghosts and magicians the legends told of. Nevertheless he's learned his lesson on misjudging an opponent.
To Tholamin: "Well 'Tholamin of the human house Medvyed' the best thing to keep in mind about these stolen lands is that its a nightmare. If you plan to make it through this place in one peice than don't for a second drop your guard. Why do you think the swordlords started hiring outside help?"
Ganit reverts his attention back to the oncoming outpost. For years he's been content with living on the borderlands. Now he can't help but find himself, like countless others, chartered into an undeniable and presumably gruesome end.
"The Fey merely told me of the charter and the humans intent. I am merely here to encourage better relations between the Fey and the humans. Still though..."
Tholamin frowns considering the grizzled man and then turns his gaze back to the landscape searching out with his magic for hints of the Fey said to roam these lands.
To Ganit: "Thank you though for the advice."
"Hello, Hello! My name's Cambyl, nice to meet you all." He appraises the grim man for a moment. "A nightmare, you say? Well then, we shall have some fun! I've been looking for a good bit of action for a while."
Zayne blinks at the enthusiastic nature of the man in front of him and glances back at Drakor with a quizzical glance. He isn't used to men so easy and carefree about such grim topics. The huge cloaked figure gives a grunt and turns his reptilian eyes back towards the road in front of them. Zayne shrugs at his companion and turns back toward the group, deciding to say nothing less he look the fool. He does decide to take the grim man's words as advice, he no doubt knew the area better than most of the party.
To Cambyl: "Fun. Fun?"
"You really have no idea what you signed up for" he says half to the party and half to himself.
He takes a look at the people he has just recently met. Not one of them resembles anything like the pioneers or soldiers he'd typically be selling his services to. These people didn't come here settle down or start a war. No, like him they're each here for something entirely different but those reasons were beyond him.
To Tholamin: "Best start by asking those little beasts to stop torturing us with their deceptive black magic’s."
Again, causing strife between allies. He almost regrets the words as they come out but seeing as they did now he's stuck with them.
"... and what did YOU sign up for?" The question was directed to Ganit, with a glowering look.
Lukan had been keeping an almost rhythmic pace as the group continued down the road. His time as a soldier had ingrained many things into his very bone - marching was one of those things.
Turning to the rest of the group with a gruff voice, "My name is Lukan Swane. Don't listen to this man. High spirits are a commodity around here. Enjoy them."
Lukan does not smile or end his comment with any gesture whatsoever. He is very direct and his words almost seem shallow, without attachment. His eyes seemed to be trained down the road at some distant landmark, but there is nothing there.
As you get closer you notice this trading post appears to be more like a minature fort with the battlements and the palisade walls that appear heavily fortified.
You notice a man on a roof of a large building in there, hammering away at the roof, stopping and looking off into the distance in your direction before reatreating back into the building and out of view.
Tholamin frowns and says
"The fey you speak of are tricksters by nature. Black magic is not involved. However, I suspect we shall run into both sorts on this journey."
He then contemplates his companions feeling out their magical skills with some he finds a significant nimbus of power, others he finds with no magical skill or ability whatsoever but perhaps they could grow into it. He wondered however about the silent figure accompanied by the strange cloaked figure that radiated a feeling of another plane.
Zayne glances up where the man on the roof had been, ignoring the other's comments. He gestures up to the fort, glancing back at Drakor but speaking loudly enough for the others to hear.
"Seems we may not be welcome here," he notes, a slight tinge of worry in his voice.
To Thomlamin: Ganit softens his eyes and simply looks away.
"I'm here to find out why every man, woman and child I've seen go into these woods ends up dead or missing" he snaps back at Lukan. His back straightens and tightens his grip on the worn leather reigns of his old mare. "Don't tell me you feel that stealing a 'stolen land' from a bunch of thieves was such profound logic to you that you felt like giving up your life so some spoon fed magistrate can collect taxes on those foolish enough to settle down here."
To all: "I am Ganit D'Artain, and I will do my best to keep these woods from consuming those whom I've decided to travel with."
Ganit barely hears Zayne's comment during his rant. He decides it'd just be better to stop talking till we reach the gate, lest he further ruin the rapport he's building with his companions.
Turns from his stare towards Ganit, "Stealing a stolen land? You make no sense. We are reclaiming these lands. It is an issue of honor."
He then turns towards Zayne, "I'm sure it was just Oleg, otherwise I'd imagine we'd be feeling the sting of arrows by now..."
Lukan looks over the group once more, recalling the battles he fought. He sighs at the sight, "Well Ganit. They are lucky they have us." Lukan points to the scar on face and a slight, crooked smirk perks his lips to the side. He then adjusts his scarf, sign of the 9th regiment of Rostland. Rumor has it all of the ninth was lost in battle a few years earlier, teaching the swordlords that the stolen lands were too expensive to be held by their armies.
Zayne winces. "Arrows would hurt," he comments to no one in particular, then at a growl from behind him he turns and gives Drakor an annoyed look. The big cloaked figure seems restless, yellow eyes scanning the area around them in search of a fight. The cloaked figure growls something in Draconic to Zayne.
"Drakor wants to fight something."
"Well not here, all right?" Zayne responds in Common. He then turns to look at the person nearest him. "Honestly I can't take him ANYWHERE!"
"I'm sure we'll be fine. We haven't gotten too deep into the nightmare yet, friends."
He comes up alongside Ganit. "Fear not, friend, I meant nothing by my statement. I know how to handle myself." He smiles, and addresses the whole group, "Whatever we signed up for, we're starting an adventure! I see no reason not to be excited!"
'An issue of honor' Ganit repeats in his head. Judging by Lukan's stance and tone, he figures the hot-headed young warrior is just as stubborn as he is. There was no reason to press to the argument any further.
Zayne’s cacophonic ramblings are lost as Cambyl quickly takes Ganit’s attention.
“An adventure you say? I suppose that’s one way of putting it” he chuckles to the excitable half elf standing below him.
Tholamin mutters
"As long as we don't try and murder each other we should all be fine."
He glances at the humans adn frowns hoping that not all humans would be so self assured as these examples else he believed the Fey had sent him on an impossible task."
Zayne quiets down. Obviously people had more on their minds than he did, but then again they didn't have to focus all their attention on restraining a battle-hungry outsider. They could manage the time to converse with other people. In an attempt to try and include himself more, he first considers talking to the elven man, but quickly discounts the idea due to the fear of discrimination, and instead walks closer to the military-looking man wearing the scarf, 'Lukan'.
"So what brought you out here?" he asks conversationally, subconsciously trying to make his curly brown hair hide the pointed ears so he would appear more human. Behind him, Drakor keeps close out of instinct.
"Besides the whole honor of reclaiming the area," he added quickly, wincing at how stupid he must have sounded a moment ago.
Bronwyn mutters to himself There's gonna be feys? Oh boy.
"Greetings, fellow travellers! I know the road is long and the weather is miserable, but 'tis a good time as any to meet good folk! I'm called Sir Bronwyn Raslov, but if we intend to be friends, I'll ask that you call Bron. This ill-tempered dullard of a horse is Bandit. You seem decent and respectable fellows, honest and hard-working people, I'm sure these Stolen Lands hold no challenge for the likes of Ganit and Lukan!"
Sir Bronwyn is a slender man astride a white stallion wearing a shirt of chainmail and carrying sword and shield. He smiles as he approaches everyone and offers his hand for anyone next to him.
Tholamin just groans inwardly as yet another dare to do human joined them. He knew this was going to be a very long journey. "Oh well" he thought. "At least when it comes down to it we have some competent enough looking fighters to hold the line as he came to grips with the magic he was now gifted with. But he might as well be civil as he was taught in his adopted fathers court as well as the Fey courts.
"Greetings Bronwyn Raslov." He replied to the man softly.
"Well met, Bron! You can call me Cam or Cambyl as you wish, I'll answer to hey, you sometimes too." He takes Bron's hand in greeting.
"Interesting, I had not even thought to name my horse, I suppose he'll have to earn one."
‘Tholamin seems to be the only one here who seems to have grasped the severity of the task at hand’ Ganit thinks to himself, misinterpreting his disenchanted expression. Nevertheless he can’t help but be drawn by Bronwyn’s magnetism.
“Flattery, boy, will grant you everything” Ganit explains as he slowly extends his hand grasp Bronwyn’s. Though before letting go of his companion he continues; “But let’s not forget, Bron, the reason we’re here is because these stolen lands proved too challenging for the swordlords themselves. And that isn’t exactly something to be taken lightly.”
"You should do it; this animal will take you to battle and maybe take you back from it. He will bleed and die by your side. If that's not a brother-at-arms, I sure don't know the meaning of the word!"
Sir Bronwyn shakes Ganit's hand, saying:
"My father used to say that flattery is an empty bottle you offer someone. It's their responsability to fill it in with their strong spirits and offer you back a sip."
Sir Bronwyn approaches Zayne, gets down from his horse and offers up his hand.
"Well met, lad! Mind telling us your name?"
If Zayne responds, Bron shakes his hand and offers:
"I see you're a bit tired, my friend. Hop on Bandit, he'll will complain a little but he will take you. I'm well-rested, having ridden most of our journey."
After helping Zayne up the horse, he turns to Tholamin and asks:
"So, Tholamin, you were saying about these fairie creatures living in the woods? I've always thought they were only huntsmans' tales, people who saw an elf or two and though he'd seen a dryad or nymph."
Ganit chuckles at thought of the proverb. He then proceeds to watch as Bronwyn makes his rounds. Enthusiastic kid, strange disposition considering most nobles he’s made acquaintance with were anything but philanthropic. No doubt admirable, but peculiar.
Tholamin blinks surprised at the human and then allows a slow smile to spread across his face. He decides he might be able to like this one.
"On the contrary Bron, Fey are everywhere, one must merely know where to look. However, their lands and connections to our world are slowly dwindling due to human expansion and that is why I am here on behalf of the Faerie courts."
Tholamin sighs and thinks back to his time in the Fey realm or to others the first plane.
"To lose the Fey would be like....well losing your armor or horse Bron. they are apart of our world and we them."
Sir Bronwyn proceeds talking to the travelers while walking on foot and holding the reins of Bandit.
"So they are everywhere?" He says scratching his chin, deep in thought for a second. "I don't think I've ever seen one of them, but perhaps I saw but didn't quite notice... I've seen some peculiar combinations of luck and chance result in most unusual events. Could a faerie's hand be at work there? I mean, I haven't heard about fey living in cities before, but I wouldn't doubt it. The world is big and full of things strange and wondrous, and some can be both at the same time!".
While he's speaking, he searches in his saddlepack for a waterskin and then drinks from it.
As you get closer the large wooden door which serves as an entrance to the outpost is open with the man from earlier standing there with a releaved look on his face.
“Welcome, you must be the reserves from Brevoy here to take care of the bandit problem. My name is Oleg and welcome to my home. Please, come and sit down so I can fill you all in on the bandit problem.” as he says this he makes sure the large wooden door is open wide enough to allow you all through.
Inside you see a stables nearby to tie up your horses and dismount. There is a room filled woth hammocks for sleeping, a store room and a tavern of sorts where Oleg entered with bills posted on the board just on the outside of the building. Inside is a attractive you blond haired woman you assume to be Svetlana who is currently working at the stove, but gives you all a welcoming smile as you arrive and Oleg points to the largest table for you all to sit at.
“First thing you should all know is that these bandits are not random groups of thugs, but one big organised band of thugs who all serve under a man with the head of an Elk they call the 'staglord' and he has amassed a large enough group of bandits to become a threat to any who think of this as a mere bandit problem. The bastards even came here one day and stole some of our goods for payment to this Staglord threatening to burn the place down and...take me wife for the men to have for entertainment.” he gives a sickened look as he says this last part. “They even took her wedding ring and continue to arrive here demanding payment. I was afraid you were them coming a day early to collect.” he sighs as he appears stressed from this traumatic experience.
Ganit takes the seat sitting across from Oleg and listens intently as Oleg explains his troubles. When Oleg finishes, Ganit removes his tricorn hat and passes his hand through his hair. He places the hat on the table and starts, “United front. That rules out the possibility of turning the groups against each other but at least they’ve given us a schedule. Tell me Oleg, have you ever seen the stag lord?”
As Ganit finishes his sentence he begins to take note of the layout of outpost. With the right placement of traps and allies we could easily ambush these bastards when they come to collect.
Lukan looks to Zayne with a quick glance. "If honor isn't enough, then perhaps glory would suffice. Without these things we are nothing more than the animals that chew the grass." His glance quickly turns to the knight reaching his hand out towards Zayne. Hes eyes but briefly meet the knights before he turns from him and regains his focus back on the fort.
As the group approached the fort Lukan seemed to become more distant as the knight asserted his presence amongst the group. Lukan had learned early in his life that nobility and those of worth were not to be triffled with or even associated with. It just caused him trouble and heartache. Especially when he revealed his lineage.
The greeting was what Lukan expected, until Oleg revealed the presence of another bandit lord. Shivers shot down his spine and goosebumps stood up on his arms. 'One thing at a time,' he thought to himself as he took a seat next to Ganit, across from Oleg.
"I'd be more interested in how many bandits come here? How well are they armed? Who leads this local group? Are they mounted? Are they well organized?" Lukan's questions almost seem demanding and impatient as he oversteped his social graces, interjecting before Ganit's question could be answered.
"That is horrible! They actually took your wife's ring? We shall certainly fix this," he says confidently.
In response to Lukan's statement:
"Agreed sir. Truer words have never been spoken." With that, Bron offers his hand to Lukan (they haven't been introduced at this point). "It fares well for our journey that we have an honorable man such as yourself. Your skill with that sword is but a minor convenience." He closes the sentence with an open smile on his face, assuring the light jest is just that, not an insult.
On the tavern:
Bron introduces himself to Oleg, then takes a quick look at the posted bills. A part of him itches with curiosity to look at those, but instead he waits as the sudden influx of quests takes Oleg's attention. He says to the others:
"These are villains, not just bandits, my friends. A bandit may take your gold, but a villain takes your dignity. These are indeed lawless lands, for one to get away so easily with that. I can see that not one person here is capable of turning their back to this. We shall return your ring and restore your honor, good Oleg, but for that we'll need to know about our opposition. Lukan and Ganit here are master strategists, heed their questions attentively and we're sure to find victory."
Still confused on when he was put onto the pleasant man's white horse and when he had gotten off, Zayne sits off by himself in a corner. There was next to nothing he could add to the conversation that hadn't been said already so he stays quiet and nods a lot when one of the others addresses the proprietor about a group effort.
'Well at least none of them are spitting at me' he noted quietly and glances over at Drakor, his cloaked companion standing in a corner facing everyone, a low and steady rumble coming from his massive shape as he scanned the room and the people in it with his reptilian eyes.
Overall, he thought his companion was behaving exceptionally well, given how long it had been since he had gotten a good fight.
"What I would like to know is if they have any magical capability among these bandits"
He will await a reply and after tholamin looks around the trading post and processes the rest of his companions questions to the human Oleg and then makes his way to the gate looking out into the dark forests in the distance.
** spoiler omitted **
Cambyl comes up to Oleg and gives him a hearty pat on the back and a smile. "My good friend, we're going to sort out this mess with bandits and eventually the deer head guy I'm sure, but could I trouble you for a brew for myself and my friends here? We've been on the road today and I for one am parched." He whispers, "And I think we could stand to relax a little if we're going into battle tomorrow." He winks conspiratorially.
At the mention of battle from Cambyl, Drakor's eyes light up and he growls something at Cambyl.
"Drakor is ready to break Master's enemies! Where shall Drakor strike on tommorrow?"
If Cambyl cannot understand Drakor's snarling accent, Zayne hesitantly translates for the other half-elf.
Cambyl, on hearing the translation, boldly walks up to and examines the Eidolon.
"Good sir... I'm sure we will all break our enemies together! We shall strike them when they come here!" He then addresses Zayne, "I like your friend, here. I think he and I will get along fine." He smiles.
Zayne gives a chuckle. "I am sure you will, as long as you don't get between him and the enemy. He has a love for battle that I could never understand."
Drakor looks down at the half-elf, then leans down to look him straight in the eyes and gives a small snort, a small amount of steam erupting out of the cloak's hood.
"Drakor will crush enemies, just point Drakor to them."
he then stands back up straight gives the half-elf a reluctant nod, as if confused by polite gestures, then resumes his stance in the corner
Oleg shakes his head when questioned about if he ever saw him.
"I have only heard of him. His powerful leutenants wear silver amulets of the Staglord, which are mentioned on one of the bills on the board." he points to the board "However I have met two of his most trusted. A filthy man named Happs who dishes out empty threats, but the woman Kressel is a deadly woman with a pair of handaxes in her hands. She took the ring and threatened what would happen to Svetlana if i didn't pay up."
He pauses to answer the questions.
"For the past few months Happs has been arriving with less men. After the time he and kressel arrived he came with only eight men and last time only six. He feels confident and before you ask I have no idea where their camp is. None of them appear to have magical abilities. They all seem to rely on thuggery and backstabbinng."
Can you post up the map of olegs and answer and questions until tomorrow if it's not too much. Low batter and no charger, plus no internet at nan's.
Tholamin walks towards Oleg.
"Sir, we shall need lodging for this night, and when did you say that the bandits will be arriving for I will need some time to prepare my spells."
To Tholomin: "Hopefully your fey brethren have shown you how to warp their minds or trick them into giving up on being career criminals. I'd rather see the least amount of bloodshed as possible. Between the tavern, the stables and the fodder it wouldn't take much to burn this place to the ground."
Ganit stands up and places a piece of gold on the counter at the bar. He then proceeds to pour a shot of dwarven whiskey into the cleanest looking glass he sees.
A flash of dark rage crosses Tholamin's face, the first hint of emotion that the party has seen since meeting him, as he whirls on Ganit speaking vehemently and in a cold low voice.
"If you had any idea about what the Fey are human you would know that causing wanton destruction goes against the very meaning of Fey life. We are creatures that watched the world being born and nurtured it to the state of being to what you see human. And if any race is to cause bloodshed it is your own. It is not the Fey who hold innocents to ransom for their own lives and rape and pillage others of their kind. It is you human that cause these things."
With that said a portion of calm comes back to Tholamin and walks hurriedly out of the tavern to seek peace outside.
"Ah yes, this is why we could use a few brews. I will go see if I can find him."
He heads outside to look for Tholamin.
Lukan raises an eyebrow at the dialogue between Tholamin and Ganit. The rest of the group seems satisfied with their answers and turn from Oleg, but Lukan remains seated across from him, questioning him further, but speaks loud enough so that the other members in the group can overhear him,
"Are they mounted? And if they are, it would be best to have them dismount before we engage them. I fear that if any of them return, they will tell the others of our presence and our deed. Retribution would be harsh and swift, and I cannot promise we would always be here to protect you. If they vanish without a trace, then you can blame the wilds, dear Oleg."
Ganit hides a smile behind his glass as he takes an extra long pull of whiskey. He lets the amber liquid settle on and soak into his tongue as Tholamin continues his outburst. Leveraging the tip of his tongue upwards he funnels the fluid down his throat, the sweet sugary burn trails deep into his stomach. By the time he could no longer feel the liquid traveling through his body Tholamin, who had not yet broken his glare at him, had finished and began making his way to the door.
Satisfied with what had been said (not to mention the drink) Ganit optically escorted his companion out the door. Being more interested by the answers to Lukan's questions, Ganit makes his way back to the table and reclaims his chair, this time removing his coat and draping it across the back.
After Lukan's queries have been answered Ganit asks: "Tell me Oleg, what do you sell here in the way of poison?"
I would recommend not mentioning the board quests again yet. It makes absolutely no sense to have a board with a bounty on silver amulets when the bandits are still extorting from Oleg lol.
"Sir, we shall need lodging for this night, and when did you say that the bandits will be arriving for I will need some time to prepare my spells."
Oleg frowns, deep stress lines visible on his forehead. Scratching his thinning hair, he answers your queries, saying nothing as Ganit helps himself to drink and noting the gold piece on the counter.
I can provide you lodgings brave soldiers. Happs is expecting the next 'tribute' tomorrow. Truth be told, I thought about fighting them, but Svetlana begged me not to.
I'd be more interested in how many bandits come here? How well are they armed? Who leads this local group? Are they mounted? Are they well organized?
Oleg strives to provide you as many details as possible, accepting your brusk questioning without commenting on it. It is clear that the situation has left the Leveton's devastated.
He has come with four men on his last few trips, swaggering into the trading post and enjoying taunting and threatening me. They each have a longbow and short sword, while Happs is a bit better armed; his bow looks more impressive and he wears a longsword on his hip. His leather armour has studs of metal set into it. They ride into the trading post, usually an hour or so after sunrise- theres a horse for each of them and one they use to carry the majority of my trade goods; so six horses in total. They dismount when they arrive and load the horses in about twenty minutes. Kressle used to come with more men but they have gotten somewhat complacent in the past few weeks; if you ambush them I imagine they'll be slow to react. I can't speak for their organisation, i'm no military man. If you let them dismount then slam the gates shut they'll be hard pressed to get out- seems a simple but effective strategy to me.
"Tell me Oleg, what do you sell here in the way of poison?"
P... Poison? Oleg sputters, sounding a little shocked. Squinting and examining you a little more closely, Oleg narrows his eyes and demands-
Your not the military force of soldiers the Swordlord's were promising to send are you. Oh, curse it, were you even aware of the bandit problem? Were my letters received? Whats your role here? I have no poison to sell, i've mostly trade goods and furs with a spattering of weapons, armour and a couple of potions. Regardless, you seen committed to helping, so... thanks. I'll show you around.
Oleg proceeds to give you a full tour of his trading post. Oleg’s trading post is surrounded by a wooden palisade that stands 10 feet high. At each corner of the palisade are 20-foot square watchtowers, each armed with a run-down catapult left over from the site’s original use as a border fort. These catapults are in no condition to be fired, and repairing them would take many weeks of work—they’ll be no use against the soon-to-arrive bandits as a result. There’s one entrance through the palisade— a 30-foot-wide wooden gate. After showing you the perimeter Oleg gives you a full tour of all the buildings within his trading post, even the internal rooms in case you surmise some strategy for using them. While he gives you the tour, Svetlana smiles at you and tells you she will be making you a stew for supper.
Olegs Trading Post (click here)
A1. Market Yard: This open area is where trade takes place. The two tables near the fire pit are used to display wares and serve food to visitors, while bulky trade goods are offloaded into the storage pen.
A2. Guesthouse: Oleg rents out the beds in this guesthouse to anyone who wishes to stay the night at a rate of 5 sp a bed per night. A rustic breakfast and filling dinner is included in that price.
A3. Stable: Oleg keeps his jittery horse Claptrap here. He rents out the other stalls to visitors’ steeds at a rate of 2 sp per stall per night—that price includes a day’s worth of water and feed and a complimentary rub down for the horse.
A4. Storage Pen: This fenced area has a wooden roof to keep off most of the rain and snow—trade goods like furs and other goods are stored here until enough build up to warrant a trip to the city of Restov to sell them off. The pen is currently empty, as Oleg’s been forced to turn over his stock to the bandits.
A5. Middens: Three 3-foot-deep composting pits and middens.
A6. Main Hall: This squat but solid wooden building is Oleg and Svetlana’s home and the storeroom for the trading post. The double doors leading out into the market yard can be barred but not locked.
A7. Dining Room: This is a comfortable room with a few chairs and a table—the Levetons use this room primarily as a dining room.
A8. Office: This room is where Oleg keeps his ledgers and meets with important visitors—in theory. As of yet, no one of importance has bothered visiting the trading post.
A9. Stockroom: This room is used to store the trading post’s stock. Oleg is happy to show you his wares- the stock currently consists of a suit of leather armor, a heavy wooden shield, two hand axes, five javelins, a longbow, two dozen arrows, a scythe, two spears, two potions of cure light wounds, a potion of shield of faith +2, two vials of antitoxin, six torches, two weeks of trail rations, a number of animal furs and a chest containing Oleg's revenue.
A10. Storeroom: This room contains two barrels of drinking water, a half-full barrel of lantern oil, three common lamps, a dozen candles, a week’s worth of firewood, a hooded lantern, 70 feet of hemp rope, a tent, and enough food (mostly cheese, hard bread, and dried venison) to last for 2 weeks.
A11. Bedroom: This modest bedroom is where the Levetons sleep.
Tholamin will find a quiet place and desperately try and meditate. Humans, Tholamin was finding were very rude and could make him angry using mere words. He would have to work on his anger and learn to control himself better. He began conjuring small globes of light to weave themselves in complex sylvan symbols.
"Ganit, you look handy with that bow, care to find a sniping spot for you and maybe our arcanists? Anyplace out of melee reach and with some good cover will do. Also, there may be hunters and trappers out here somewhere, they'll probably have some kind of hunting poison."
"Pardon my friends, noble Oleg, I fear the long road has worn them out of their tempers. Tomorrow we shall have a good strategy discussion to decide how to best deal with this situation. Then we'll start to properly fortificate defensible positions and prepare for the oncoming battle. I don't think it will take over a week or two. When are they coming again to retrieve their 'payments'?"
Finishing that sentence, Sir Bronwyn calmly drinks his whiskey.