-Slightly before-
James stands at the window, staring out in only his slacks. "Are you coming back to bed?" comes a voice from over his shoulder in the small apprentice's chamber. The lush room is spartan, but somehow still luxurious, particularly the bed, upon which rests his favorite current conquest and the owner of the sweet voice. Pale skin and blonde hair tangle with the sheets as she lays back, looking up at him. "I bet you could manage another round before you head off to work." She smiles naughtily as she makes a 'come hither' gesture with one finger.
James sighs. "Claire..." He trails off, for once at a loss for words. "Claire.... I'm leaving." Her shocked stare pains him, he hates this part, with each one of his lovers he dreads it. The shock gives way to questioning looks. "Why?" she says, obviously saddened, though this doesn't seem to be as bad as the usual look.
"Because I can't stay." James begins pulling on his shirt. "My past will find me here if I stay, and well... look at this. Look at me. Am I to spend the rest of my life dealing with people like... Theodrik?" He looks disgusted, shaking his head and pulling his shirt down fully, pulling his coat on over the top and beginning to buckle on his gear. "I won't do it. I have more to do. I won't sit around under sick bastards like Ursian. Calistria may be the goddess of revenge, but that doesn't mean one's revenge must be overly cruel or unrighteous."
Claire dresses swiftly. "Thank you for the pleasure you have given me ." She says ritualistically. "You are the best I've ever had, James Herecea. I wish you would stay, but I knew this couldn't last forever." her eyes are brimming as she prepares to leave his room. "I hope you find what you're looking for, James." She kisses him deeply, then turns and leaves the room, heading for her own.
James sighs. "Goodbye Claire." He says simply, and finishes hefting his backpack. He looks around the cluttered room with a faint nostalgia. "If I ever return, it will be too soon." He smiles and leaves, telling no one of his plans.
-Present-
James snaps out of his remembrance, waiting in the Mayor's lobby, he looks around at the other hopefuls, face bright and open, but scheming within. These men won't get to leave here. They belong in this little city. I don't. He fingers the holy symbol of Calistrea at his neck. Milady, do this for me and I will show you more devotion than you will believe.
Stanis Perception
Stanis Sense Motive
Stanis
You had no reason to question the Banker's assignment. You completed your task to the letter, and delivered the portfolio to the Lord Mayor. He called upon his aide, Theodrick and then politely asked you to wait without for a time, informing you that he expected the first of the applicants to arrive directly. You are waiting for no longer than a quarter of an hour when what the Lord Mayor says comes to pass. You hear an altercation within, and a few moments later, his aide, a young man with a soft face rushes out, almost at the point of tears.
The Lord Mayor calls out: "Helene!" and a portly matron sitting without, reading a number of documents splayed on her desk looks up from her work. After a moment, the Lord Mayor comes to the door directly and gives you a nod. "Do come in, Master Quill," he invites. "And you, Helene after you show the gentlemen to the office. This will require the signature of two witnesses," the Lord Mayor's tone seems to imply that he is somewhat aggravated, but with what, you cannot tell.
As instructed, you and Helene spend the better part of the morning witnessing a number of individuals take the oath of their office and receive their charters to explore. You recognize a number of them, petty lordings and nobility of little note or accomplishment, and reason that you have little to fear from their interference as their charters call for settlement in areas far removed from your own. Bound as they are by their oaths, they should pose no threat to your ambitions.
Towards the afternoon, you are excused for a time, to acquire your lunch, and you check over your gear once more. When you return, you find three young men waiting without the Lord Mayor's office. One large man wears a set of medium armor, and a vaguely similar looking boy wears leather, and finally a lithe half elven man brazenly sports a holy symbol to Calistria, the savored sting. You recognize that Ladislaus has yet to report for duty, and enter the Lord Mayor's office to resume yours.
All
Helene Perception
Helene greets Stanislaw at the door. "Ah, we had begun to think that you would not be returning," she jests lightly, laughs nervously and rises.
James, you recognize that the overweight matron that peers out and over all of you at this moment is not Theodrick, and it strikes you as odd that the woman he described as being the Lord Mayor's office secretary is greeting you, rather than his personal assistant.
"Oh my, what a... varied group," she says with a sense of wonder, her eyes appearing to glance over each of you without seeming to comprehend any fine details. "I had thought that there would be more applicants than this, considering the number of notices that I copied," she continues, and then favors you with a broad smile. "Please, do come in, the Lord Mayor is currently attending business, but he will be returning shortly."
Making their way past the guards had been a tense moment for Tam, once he even thought a guard might have recognized Mordecai. But as he entered the office and saw all the others, backpacks and gear matching their own Tam eased up his tension and looked about the room searching for anyone he would recognize. His eyes finally settle on a brightly colored man bearing some sort of religious trinket on his chest. He vaguely recognized it as a symbol of Calistria and spots the man's weapons with some interest. A coiled whip, more interestingly were the slight bulges along the mans wrist. Tam smiles recognizing the ploy as hiding something worth hiding
.
Interesting, this might actually be fun. Though I'm curious on this Calistria thing, wonder what that means, thought they were all whores a such.
"Well brother what do you think?" Tam whispers to his brother slightly nodding his head towards the halfelf.
LOoking about the room, now past the immediate danger of a guard recognizing him as being capable of the previous murder, Mordecai looks down at his brother, cocks an ear at him then glances up towards the half-elf his brother mentioned.
Mordecai arches an eyebrow and cocks his head slightly, weighing and measuring the man's physical stature, his clothes and the whip coiled at his side. He certainly wasn't a warrior, or at least not any kind Mordecai had ever seen before, and he had met many variations of warriors among his mercenary companions years ago. His body is lean with agile muscle beneath his black and yellow clothes, which manages to not appear garish. He looks the man up and down a few times and realizes that while he did not appear dangerous, getting on the half-elf's bad side could have severe repercussions. Especially since he apparently worshiped the Goddess of Lust and Revenge.
Glancing back down at his brother, he lowers his voice to a rough whisper. "I can't make an estimate of his fighting skills...but as a point of precaution Tam? Don't ask him to gamble. It might not go well if you cheat him. Just my two cents."
Mordecai then straightens back up, since whispering in his brother's ear or letting Tam whisper in his, he had to stoop quite a bit. He adjusts the bastard sword's hilt slung over his shoulder then drops his heavy pack to the floor with a small clatter then he takes a seat so he can have his back to a wall and facing the room and its occupants.
Tam shrugs at his brothers comment about gambling, and instead glances up at the arrival of yet another person, this one looking, well, studious.
Knowledge Local:
Tam flinched inwardly as he recognizes him or at least partially. He matched the description he had overheard from some thieves he had....overheard while gambling. This man matched the description of an up incoming lawyer from the higher districts. Nothing to special but he would have to keep a low profile around him. Tam didn't think a civil servant would take too kindly to someone like himself, or Tam blanches and pulls his scarf up about his mouth, his brother. This one would need watching.
Tam turns his head then to regard the stout woman as she address them all and as they make their way to inside Tam pulls on his brothers arm to whisper a quick warning to him.
"The fellow with the crossbow, matches the description of a civil servant I have heard about, we will need to careful around him. We will need a lie to explain ourselves if he recognizes our family resemblance."
Stanis studies each in turn, his able eyes darting all over them, mentally noting details. "Warrior types all, looking at their builds. Strong, seemingly confident. Though, only one wielding a hefty blade. Disconcerting... does this mean they are casters? Sneaks? Something else entire-" a chill down his back and a churning of his gut silences his internal monologue when he sees the triple daggers of Calistria adorn the elf-blooded man "Oh hells..."
The wizard wipes his brow and looks away as he takes a deep breath to steady himself, making the thrush chirp up with a worried tone "Master! Are you alright?" it flutters around and into his field of vision as Stanis takes a second before nodding "...yes. I am. Just... acid reflux from the lunch." the wizard tries to dismiss.
He looks to the three more hardy men and gives a curt bow "Greetings. My name is Stanislaw Branthorn, also known as Stanis the Quill. Apprentice of Arcanamirium Master Vladimir Vandersant, which means I am a pretty good wizard" he chuckles nervously, not seeming overly impressive "I understand I am to be working with you as the cartographer."
Mordecai blinks at Stanis' flowing speech and he takes a moment to decipher what the man means beneath the silver-tongued phrases. Eventually, he shakes his head and then bows it politely to Stanis, aware of his brother's words warning him to keep a low profile about this apparent 'wizard'. Mordecai has never seen real magic before and so is hesitant on that regard as well, but common courtesy demands a sufficient introduction to answer that of the mage's.
"Well met Ser Branthorn. I am Mordecai."He then motions with a jerk of his head towards his smaller, now cloaked brother. "This is Tam,"
"Ser? As in title? Politeness? They do seem to share similar traits, but should I ask? Also, why no last names? Just informality? ARE they outlaws? No, that is stupid, they would not be eligible for this charter if they were... damnation, now he is looking at me. Where are you Ladislaus? Mayube I should try to lighten the mood?" Stanis mind raced at all points, until he finally managed a weak nod "Oh, Ser Branthorn is my fath-... wait. We have no knights in my family tree. Guess what I am trying to say is... well... I am no Ser, but if you are just being polite, then sorry for the rudeness. Ahaha..."
"Great. Now I must look like a total fool." he sighs and looks to the half-elf, willing himself to speak as he could not help but imagine all manner of inappropriate things when he thought of what the symbol implied "Mas serenas, tel'quessir." he greets in somewhat stale elven.
"Elven: May I ask your name?" he says, seemingly hoping to impress and prove his knowledge, and thus distract from his unease.
Bluff:
Tam smiles a bit behind his scarf and folds his arms across himself as he follows the group into the mayors office. He is curious about the rest of the group but all things would become clear he hopes once they get the details of this said charter. Course we can always slip away once the adventure starts but this might be a great opportunity to make some money, maybe find a place I belong.
He glances at his brother and all of the sudden the shadow appears coiled about him as in the dream and and he remembers it's words. Visibly shaken Tam leans against the nearby wall and tries to remain calm and composed, grateful of his pulled up hood and scarf.
Mordecai glances back at the other two as he walks into the mayor's office, a thick black eyebrow raised at the strange alien tongue flowing from the wizard's mouth. Knowing only the Common tongue, the ex-mercenary had no clue what in the world Stanis had said, but then again he hadn't been addressing him, Mordecai assumed, so it must not have been his business. He shrugs and looks forwards again, unslinging his broad-bladed sword from his shoulder and instead carrying it in one of his large gauntleted hands. He keeps it at ease, and when he has gone inside he finds a wall to lean his broad back against with his sheathed sword held point down against the wooden floor, both hands on the pommel stone.
He takes a quick peek about the room and see's nothing of particular importance to a warrior, a heavy oaken desk, piled papers upon it, the usual apparatus of an acting head official. He keeps his eyes from the mayor himself, trying his best to appear insignificant if not small. With his height and build, he would not appear so unless side by side to an ogre.
James follows Stannis into the chamber. An accountant... wonderful. He thinks sarcastically with a smirk, which fades as he reveals his magical talents. He is however, unsurprised by the elven phrase. "I am James Herecea." the inquisitor replies in the common tongue, "And I would prefer you not think my ancestry automatically indicates I know the tongue of my mother people." He smiles a bit, taking the sting from the words slightly. "I learned a small bit of Elven while working in the temple and everyone seems to think I just know it in this fool town."
The Agent sizes up the others as well. My that's a big boy. Bet he's no slouch with that blade either. He shifts his gaze, Slim, less built, but... I'd guess the shrewder. His eyes never stop moving. Look the same... brothers? cousins? Certainly family. He bows toward the brothers. "Are you to be my companions to the Stolen Lands as well? A temple agent alone is not generally the best welcomed man, and some people seem to think Calistrea's worshipers are numbered only in prostitutes. Not to say our holy prostitutes aren't both plentiful and amazing, after all, I served as one for a few years. A fun time, if I do say so." He smiles and extends his hand. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance Mordecai, Tam."
Mordecai wrinkles his nose at James and shakes his head. "An honor to make your acquaintance Serrah."
Inwardly he represses the urge to gag. He could have gone his entire life without imagining a male prostitute. He shakes his head, praying to Ragathiel that this adventure would throw no more disturbing matters his way, knowing however that the prayer was in vain. There were worse things in the world physically than what James claimed to have done in his past...Morally however, Mordecai had to say it was the worst possible idea he could fathom.
Stanis fidgets awkwardly, not quite knowing how to deal with the idea of a man serving as a sacred prostitute, his head flooded with all manners of reasoning, desperately trying to NOT look at him to confirm theories.
Failing to notice that Mordecai reacts similarly, he takes a deep steadying breath. "Relax, Stanis. Relax. Don't make a scene, they seem to be OK with it, and you KNOW better than to judge others based on first impressions." he internally commands himself, and returns the half-elf's smile as well he can. "Ah, yes, I believe we are to be traveling together in service of the crown. And please forgive my assumption, I will admit that I am prone to act on logical conclusions, and a half-elf serving an elven goddess... well, it just made sense to me that you would speak the language." he throws his hands up "Not that there is anything WRONG with not doing so. I mean, I am varisian on my grandmother's side, but I do not speak the tongue." he blurts, seeming on rocky ground when it comes to emotions, and accepting what to him seems illogical.
He looks to Tam and Mordecai, for a measure on how fast his ship seems to be sinking.
Ladislaus moved quickly--but not too much. His robes flowed behind him in a suitably stately fashion as he approached the office. Knocking exactly twice, quickly and precisely, Ladislaus opened the door and bowed slightly to his superior--Legate Pruma Eskalz. Straightening from his bow, he kept his face carefully neutral as he extended the file for acceptance. "Legate, here are the case files you requested. Everything is labelled using the new system, and all files relating to the Kar-Rovargia," he spat this last word out with obvious anger,"claims have been compiled and summarized for your use." As the legate accepted the file, Ladislaus shifted to a formal stance, hands clasped behind his back.
"Ah, very good, Ladislaus," Pruma responded with thinly-veiled contempt. "Yes, I thought that case would be of particular interest to you--bastards can't get above their station, after all--even if they are supposedly of the old line." Smiling slightly as Ladislaus gave a slight twitch, Pruma waved him away. "Yes, most fitting for your final assignment here. I'm sure that I'm not keeping you any longer than you would have idled here anyways, but you may go, Ladislaus. Go and enjoy your time in the hinterlands."
Clenshing his jaw at Pruma's dismissal, Ladislaus gave another bow and turned sharply, resisting the urge to hurry as he left the Legate's presence. Finally, out of this hellish place. What was Karleman thinking when he sent me here? He sighed at the thought, knowing full well that it had been for his benefit. After all, there is good experience to be had here, and how could he know that I would end up under an unprofessional toad like Pruma? Attempting to calm himself, Ladislaus entered his small office, looking around one last time before collecting the last of his things. Considering the small marble statue of Abadar that his mother had bequeathed to him, he sighed, gently polishing the statue before placing it in his pack. If only... bah, but those are the words that people use if they need assistance of some sort! Onward and outward--and away from this place! It will be good to get some air, and if anywhere needs the order of Abadar, it is the wilds.
Bowing mockingly to the sigil of House Surtova behind his desk--a tangible symbol of the highest laws in the land--Ladislaus turned to go, finally ready to approach the Lord Mayor's. I am glad that the higher priests saw fit to accept my request for transference--even though there were a few other applicants. Probably just wanted to be rid of me, though. I don't know what they fear from me, however. After all, 'I have not the right.'" Allowing himself a bitter laugh that startled a nearby clerk, Ladislaus shouldered his pack, still adjusting to its weight in addition to that of his armor, and left the legal offices for the last time. On to the wilds, then. Lamashtu take Pruma and his howling pack of lackeys.
Ladislaus Perception
Ladislaus
As you walk to the Lord Mayor's, you feel as though every step is taking you further and further from Restov, and despite the weight of your armor and the responsibilities you have come to bear, almost... uninhibited.
A priest of Abadar, you preparations have been exact, almost to the point of exhaustion on all manner of details furnished by the one companion you are aware of, the magistrate Stanislaw Branthorn. A fellow member of the faithful, studious and efficient, he been able to answer your questions fully. The Stolen Lands are far more than just wilds to capture the imagination of mercenaries seeking to carve their name into the scattered annuls of the histories of the River Kingdoms, but a lands rife with many dangers. The advertisement posted by the Lord Mayor's office mentions only the bandits, a problem well publicized as bandits have been blamed for several raids upon merchants upon the South Rostland road, but the dangers inherent are far greater. Monsters roam in the wilds, unchecked by the encroachment of civilization, and fey creatures infest the wood.
You, Ladislaus in particular recognize the dangers that are left unstated. The Stolen Lands lies between the political scramble that is Brevoy, it's balance of power still reeling in the wake of the relatively recent disappearance of each of the members of the ruling House Rogarvia. The vacuum has allowed House Surtova of Issia, which has denied any responsibility for you, to assume power over the entire nation. You have considered the possibility many times since learning of the charter that the Swordlords of Rostland have agreed to House Surtova's demands to send adventurers south not simply to protect themselves, but also to potentially gain allies should House Surtova attempt to seize any demonstrable amount of power. From every angle, this charter appears a political quagmire.
Fully prepared, with the strength of your convictions to succeed where others have failed previously. Your grip on the door of the Lord Mayor's office is firm and you almost fail to recognize that you have stepped in front of the Lord Mayor himself, apparently returning from without.
"Ah, good afternoon, Banker," he greets with a bemused tone. "Glad that you have decided to join us," he jests lightly, and passes through the door that you are holding open. "Do not dally long, Banker, I am as eager as you to conclude this business."
All
You have all made tentative introductions and are waiting for a period of approximately ten minutes when the door opens and permits a stately man wearing a shinning breast plate with the the symbol of the Aldori fighting school worked upon it, and a dueling sword at his hip enters the room. He is shorter than you might have expected, implied by his grand title, only a few inches taller than the young Tam, but surrounds himself with a cool air of authority as he assumes the rather large leather-bound and only chair in the office. He is followed shortly thereafter by a man wearing armor over sedate robes bearing a holy symbol of a golden key clearly identifying him as a priest of Abadar.
Lord Mayor Sellemius spares each of you a glance, appearing to see all and nothing, one practiced of ignoring persons beneath him, and then gestures of Stanislaw with an impatient wave of his hand.
"Magistrate, and you Banker," he adds, fixing his gaze on Ladislaus. "Perhaps it may seem to each of you improper to do things as such, but I grow weary of this exercise. You are to witness your own signatures to these charters. I am quite certain that House Surtova will not mind the gaffe in this case," Sellemius adds, his words cutting at the last like a knife.
The Lord Mayor opens a small drawer in his office and procures a number of papers and fans them out over the surface of his desk.
"You should know before you depart that there have been multiple requests filed by one Oleg Leveton for assistance with a number of bandits that have threatened his trade post. This office has been charged with procuring a number of guards to assist him, but it has been difficult to find volunteers," his smile is more akin to a sneer. "Well, what are you gentlemen waiting for?"
Each of you are now free to take, read and sign the charter. It reads the following:
"Be it so known that the bearer of this charter has been charged by the Swordlords of Restov, acting upon the greater good and authority vested within them by the office of the Regent of the Dragonscale Throne, has granted the right of exploration and travel within the wilderness region known as the Greenbelt. Exploration should be limited to an area no further than thirty-six miles east and west and sixty miles south of Oleg’s Trading Post. The carrier of this charter should also strive against banditry and other unlawful behavior to be encountered. The punishment for unrepentant banditry remains, as always, execution by sword or rope. So witnessed on this 24th day of Calistril, under watchful eye of the Lordship of Restov and authority granted by Lord Noleski Surtova, current Regent of the Dragonscale Throne."
Mordecai greets the new arrival, a cleric of Abadar, then turns his attention fully onto the Mayor. Despite his hesitancy around authority figures at the moment, he can't help but be impressed by this man. He had assumed the mayor of Restov was a portly, balding man, the stereotypical appearane of village officials he had met during his days abroad.
He listens raptly to the Mayor read off the charter, his eyes starting to glaze over as he imagines the Greenbelt. An untamed, wild land full of strange creatures, dangerous monsters and untold challenges. Just the sort of adventure and redemption that could earn him his good name back. He can't help but grip the hilt of his sword in anticipation, but when the topic reaches the matter of banditry, he narrows his eyes in anger.
'Bandits...' he snarls to himself quietly. 'Foul, murdering, raping marauders with no care as to the chaos and turmoil their foul deeds wrought on the world. I will personally see to the execution by sword of any bandit that does not repent his evil ways...' Mordecai had fought bandits before as a Mercenary, and knew from experience that unless these ruffians were put down, the Stolen Lands might never be reclaimed in the name of Restov and the Dragonscale Throne.
He glances at his companions, wondering slightly if they are up to the task however. A Cleric, a Wizard, that James fellow, his brother and deadly knife-fighter Tam, and his swordsmanship. He clenches his fist on the handle of his sword. Ragtag team they might be, but they were no different than his companions among Eidan's men. If they guarded his back, he would guard theirs.
"Oh thank the laws!" Stanis sighs in relief as Ladislaus comes in and the topic changes. He gives his church superior a polite greeting and turns to the business at hand, always giving priority to legal matters over pleasantries.
As the mayor mentions breaking protocol to expedite issues, Stanis visibly cringes, but when the reason comes up, he stands tall. "Lord Mayor," he speaks up, his reservation seemingly dispelled "I would normally not condone a violation of law, but since expedience is of the essence for the survival of lawful citizens of Brevoy, I will invoke brevic law of emergency proceedings §§ 14a through 14c, second line, stating that in cases of emergency, where lives or commerce is threatened, which I assume is the case, considering that Oleg's tradepost is located on the South Rostland Road, a legal official-" Stanis indicates his badge of office, which he starts to remove "can approve and sign documents to achieve a quicker resolve. Until the case has been scrutinized by a committee of five judges or public officials and be found both needed and lawful, said legal official is immediately stripped of his rank and standing, pending investigation." he ends, dropping the badge on the desk, and starts signing charters as witness, despite being part of the chartered group.
"A cheap price to pay if I am able to save lives." he grumbles as his pen flies from document to document. Though he knew that he would likely feel less enthusiastic about giving up his office if one of the many corrupt legal officials got to sit on the committee when he comes back. "IF I come back..." he swallows hard.
James almost laughs at the dark looks he gets from his last comment. Prudes.
James watches the Banker arrive with trepidation. Ugh... is this Tam the only one with any flexibility in this group? He watches another Key wearer sign the document as he comments "Forgive me Stannis, people assuming is a personal annoyance of mine, but don't let it trouble you. If we are to travel together I suppose conversing in our tongue could be useful." The Calistrean listens carefully to the mayor and then stands in shock at Stannis. Did he just... resign? I thought all the Keybearers only cared about station. His jaw practically drops, as this gesture, while a tad melodramatic, goes against everything he knew of Abadar's followers. James mentally raised his estimation of the little scribe a few notches. "Indeed, good to see that even Abadarans know when it is time to act. As the mayor asked, what are we waiting for? Shall we be travelling overland or by ferry?" He begins planning, ignoring that the mayor is still in the room. His pen flashes quickly over the paper and leaves a large and overly ornamental signature.
When it comes his turn to sign the paper, instead of simply signing his entire name onto the sheet of paper, Mordecai chooses to sign only his first name and add in the open-ended surname "the Mercenary". He grimaces at the plainness of it but knows that signing on his father's name of Hawke would likely help link any investigator to his family.
He then stands back, nodding to the others in his new adventuring company, eager to leave Restov and get back out on the open road. 'Just like you said years ago Eidan...Once you've experienced the freedom of the Mercenary's life, you won't ever feel at home or at peace in a city. I will return someday however, with my honor restored and my head held high.'
The thought brings a smile to his face which he quickly hides by glancing at the Mayor when he hears James' question concerning transportation.
Stanis does some motions as he calculates things in his head, and mumbles something to himself, which gradually gets more audible "...and the Shrike river runs along the South Rostland Road for 43 miles... past Nivakta's Crossing and all the way to Fort Serenko," Stanis unfurls a blank parchment, speaks a couple of familiar arcane words, which makes a splash of colors spread out on the map; a three dimensional swirl of black miniature walls rising to indicate Restov, a blue line indicating the shrike, running next to a brown, indicating the South Rostland Road, past a smaller town springing up beside it, until the road shears northwest when they get to a fort, towards Oleg's Trading Post, and the river cleaves south "take a ferry to this fort, one can make it to Oleg's in three days of forced marches, if the weather holds." he nods in conclusion and turns to James
"Grand total of four days if we go by ferry, as the Shrike moves swiftly. If we get horses, we should be able to make it in three. Should. I am not familiar with riding though, so... maybe not." he sheepishly shrug as he flaps the parchment, making colored motes float off into the air and shrink to nothing.
Tam listens intently to Stannislaw's words and thinks on it, he would prefer the river ferry, horses, and he, well something about him made horses not like him very well. Tam smiles and walks up to sign his own name, almost mimicking the flowing script of James signature and writes simply "Tam".
"Perhaps we should sooner rather than later. Sometimes it is good to start a journey on an early note. What do you all say?"
"Careful Tam, as it says in The Book of Joy: 'To move forward unprepared is foolish, and he who does not take his time in lust ruins the fun all too early, and he who does not take his time in life finds himself dead.'" James smiles devilishly. "However, I agree that I'd be on my way sooner rather than later, will horses be provided for us?" He asks the mayor.
Mayor Sellemius's eyes narrow at James's mention of the Book of Joy. "Aye, vermin, the finest horses you and your companions might afford yourselves. You might avail yourself of the city's stables. Assuming that your profession affords you such luxury."
"If each of you has signed, I would that you take your discussion outside. I've important business to attend. There is a murderer loose in my streets, I'm losing two magistrates, and I've need to replace a disreputable assistant," he says pointedly, rises and gestures to the door.
"Helene, if you may show these gentlemen out, and inform the Council that I await their leisure."
At the mayor's words, Mordecai glances down at his brother, giving him a secretive, meaningful look to stay quiet before bowing his head to the mayor and walking out of the office, trying not to look suspiciously hurried, after turning to look at everyone else and saying, "I will meet you all outside"
He breathes easier once outside and squeezes the hilt of his sword a couple times to relieve the tension that had built up at the mayor's agitation. Silently, he considers the irony of the man's anxiousness.
'By Ragathiel's sword, you'd think NO ONE in Restov gets murdered.' he thought, the unspoken irony as acid in the back of his throat.
Tam's eyes widen slightly at the mayor's words, though surprised he was more heartily amused. As he catches his brothers look he suppresses a laugh by coughing noisily into his scarf turning his body slightly to mask the shivers of laughter going down his small body. I wonder if the man's head would pop if he knew the murderer was standing couple of feet in front of him
As he turns to follow his brother he cannot help but part with a few words. " Don't worry m'lord Mayor, I am certain the murdering scumbag will be apprehended very soon." He then follows quickly on his brothers heels suppressing another series of giggles with a bout of coughing.
"Indeed..." Stanis says softly, giving a frown of disapproval as he leaves. He looks to his new band of companions when outside, pauses to pick his words, and starts elaborating his dismay "The murderer must be one of the apprentices of a sword-lord, or maybe even an offended sword-lord personally. And considering the quote-unquote 'victim' in this case being a known rapist, that hardly seems implausible." Stanis turns and regards the town hall with a sigh "Otherwise, I doubt the mayor would care that low-lives are at each others' throats. Sword lord scions taking the law into their own hands is hardly rare, and considering that they are the ruling council, one can argue that they are in their RIGHT. But vigilante activity is a blight on any attempt to insert legitimate order and law."
James shrugs as he leaves. "The victim was a known rapist. His death only cleans our streets. I say let the duelists have their fun. I'd have done the same to the sort who would spurn Calistria's gifts in such a way. Righteous vengeance for his own victims." The half-elf seems entirely unaffected by the thought of the man dying. "Or perhaps someone was a savior, and killed the man as he was trying to perpetrate the crime. I call that heroism, not murder." The agent kissed the Calistrean symbol at his neck and then let it fall. "I understand the need for laws, but sometimes they just get in the way." James remembers a similar night in which his whip tasted the blood of a man who was attempting to force himself on a girl after having too much drink. Thank Calistrea the church protects their own and his crime was never reported, the body only found when it washed into the bay miles away.
Mordecai makes a point of checking on his sword hilt while Stanis speaks, checking for frayed leather wrappings on the long wooden shaft. He glances up at James' words, swelling a little inside and inwardly admitting that the half-elf was not as bad as he had thought. Overall, at least in this aspect, the Calistrean and he were a lot alike.
He again straps the sword to his back and retrieves his rucksack, glancing over their party again, gauging their strengths and weaknesses in combat with a professional eye. The wizard no doubt had magic, as well as a crossbow he had left outside the office, and the half-elf had his bladed whip, a weapon Mordecai personally would rather avoid getting hit by. As for the cleric, he had no idea what weapons he used as of yet but, by weighing him up and down respectively, he concluded he could probably hold his own in a fight. As for Tam, he had more knives hidden away than Mordecai had ever seen on a person, and only someone who knew how to use each and everyone to deadly, or even non-deadly, effect would carry such an assortment.
He smiles a little to himself again, then turns the grim conversation from the 'mysterious Aldori lord murderer'.
"So have any of you been as far south as...say Rostland? I've been there a few times during my mercenary days. Beautiful open country down there."
Stanislaw’s precise methods and abilities to prepare for several independent variables lends itself to his curiously correct assertion that there is in fact a ferry bound for Fort Sarenko leaving this very evening, and that as each of you are fully prepared, you have adequate time to board. You five intrepid explorers, brave adventurers bound for the infamous Stolen Lands feel no sense of fear in the poorest and roughest districts of this city to which none of you hold allegiance any longer, and you discover your manner of conveyance, a swarmy tug of a boat that appears to have seen better days. It’s hull and deck are pitted and shabbily patched, giving the air of temporary fixes, like the proprietor’s clothing. His face is tan and weathered, and his appearance lends the air of one inured to harsh physical labor, even if he is slightly elder. The scene about his tug is swarming with activity as porters lift and carry items into his hold. The captain identifies himself as Dimitri, and he studies you each with a discerning stare, his eyes narrowing slightly upon Stanis, but only briefly. He offers you the following, that if you five are to attach yourselves to his outfit so far as you intend to travel with him, you may do so for free. It was not a few weeks back that his outfit was attacked by bandits and he lost his investment, hence the damage. Finding the terms reasonable, you agree.
The trip down the Shrike River is unremarkable, much to your disappointment. Captain Dimitri remains wary, however, pacing the deck and staring out among the wilds to the south. In the evenings, when you speak to him, he tells you that the lands here have never been right and despite his intimacy with the area, they seem to have changed recently. You ascribe his attitude towards nervousness, each of you is excited and anxious to begin your new lives, and discover new frontiers. The ferry stops once in a small town called Nivakta’s crossing. Compared to the might of Restov, this settlement is nigh a speck on the raider. Captain Dimitri’s crew are the only that depart on this stop, just long enough to load goods on a cart you suppose is bound for the town proper, and then continue on your journey.
Your aquatic adventures end at an establishment known as Fort Sarenko. It is evening when you arrive, but you find the outpost in a flurry of activity. The troop stationed there, wearing Rostland livery do not stop long to answer questions, driven as they are by their sergeant, but you learn that they have recently been recalled to Restov. The officer left in charge is a petty ensign and has no knowledge of the reasons why, as his direct superior rode directly to the city upon learning of the decision several days ago. A bright one among you might ask this young lad why his officer was traveling east when this Oleg’s is to the West, and hadn’t the Lord Mayor mentioned that his trade post was in need of security. The ensign, Geofry Hendricks shakes his blond head and apologizes, but he has no answer. He offers you a place to stay for the evening, but asks that you keep to your lodgings, as the guard has been diminished given the circumstances, and they don’t wish to be responsible for any of you being attacked in the night, given as each of you carries charter assigned to you by the seated Regent of the Dragonscale Throne.
In the morning you wake, and James and Stanislaw find some common ground as none of you osave perhaps Mordecai are particularly enthusiastic about marching down this stretch of road known as the South Rostland road for several days more to your destination. The first day you see none by grassy plains about you, only occasionally broken by the odd clump of desiccated and filthy snow beside the road that refuses to melt despite the glare of the sun in the day. In the evenings, you hunt for food and find that game is accessible, as the little creatures that roam about in the plains are their most fertile in the spring time, and easily distracted. James, you feel a little pang of guilt when you eat in the evening, knowing that the little hare that gave its life to feed you was only looking to fulfill it’s purpose in life, to breed, but the flesh sates your hunger no less.
Near the close of your second day on the road, you meet with a caravan headed east, to trade with Restov. These are not your standard traveling merchants, among their number are women and children, and most of them seem to be performers. You break camp with them, thankful for the break in the monotony of your journey, and they gladly share their alcohol stores, bread and fine dining with you. You learn that these travelers are Varisians. the traveling folk, with their colorful clothing and wagons. They spin tales for you, sing and dance and speak at length of Desna and Her dreams. It is wholly pleasant, and when you part in the morning you bid them a good journey, and disclose the current condition of Fort Sarenko. They thank you for the information and wish you well in your endeavors, as well.
On the third day of your journey, you are feeling worn and tired when your destination finally appears to you.
The trade post is nowhere near as impressive as Fort Sarenko. The first detail that comes to mind that brings this observation into sharp relief is the lack of water. Oleg’s, named for its proprietor, you have learned, is situated in a large field of grass much like the road that you have been traveling on, no running or even visible potable water for miles. The trade post itself is surrounded by a wooden palisade about ten feet high. At each corner there are watchtowers standing 20 feet from the ground. A crush of weeds tangles with the rotted wood of the palisades. It appears likely that Oleg had not thought to scale back the growth of vegetation before the snows, and that which remained was crushed and died there in the winter. There is only one entrance to the trade post, a thirty-foot wide gate hung with what appears to be a roughly hewn tree trunk. As you pause beneath it, wondering what manner of mammoth lord might have plucked the heavy parcel from the ground and set it atop the palisades so easily, you hear the sound of hammering from within the trade post itself.
When you enter, you see a cart placed lazily in front of the gate which is covered over with snow that has only just begun to melt, and your nostrils are assaulted by the smell of damp hay and horse shat and flesh coming from what smells to be the stables. A handsome young woman in modest attire tends a pot dangling from a tripod over an open flame between two tables. She looks up when you arrive, clutches her cooking implements in fear at first, then relaxes with a sigh that is audible from where you are. You notice at this time that the hammering that was occurring stops, and the woman after tidying up a bit, straightening her crisp white apron, approaches your group with a smile.
”At last, you’ve come!” she says excitedly. She turns and yells towards a small shed beside the storehouse, beside the main lodging house. ”Dear! The men we were promised have arrived!” she calls, ”and none too soon!” she smiles at you broadly.
”Oleg, that’s my husband,” she explains, ”he’ll pretend not to be pleased that you’ve come, but we’ve need of your help. His arms are strong, but his head is better suited for figures than tactics, but oh! My manners! It’s been so long since we’ve had travelers last! I am Svetlana, Svetlana Leveton.”
The trek across the waters was less than appreciated by Mordecai it seems but after a while his uneasiness of not being able to feel the earth beneath his boots subsides and he begins to enjoy the calm sounds of water. He helps however he can, leaving his armor in his personal space but keeping his sword with him at all times.
During the entire trip, Mordecai seems virtually bursting with joy and enthusiasm being out on the open road again. His normally quiet and grim facade breaks as soon as the first night settles on the group, and he can be heard humming or singing quietly of some old mercenary marching tune, his sword and pack over one broad shoulder.
Upon reaching the trading post, Mordecai smiles at its quaintness and approaches near the head of the group, passing through the huge gateway and appreciating the sense of safety it conveyed, despite its slightly shabby and uncared for appearance. When greeted by Svetlana, he bows his head courteously, keeping his eyes civil and his tone respectful of the woman who was brave enough to dwell so far removed from the 'safety' of the more civilized world.
"A good day to you madam, and well met. We came as soon as we heard of the Sword Lord's commission. I am Mordecai, a pleasure to meet you." He then patiently waits for the owner of the keep to join them, not being able to see the man, as well as for his companions to introduce themselves as well.
Tam was deeply grateful to be out on the ferry instead of on a rickety horse. You could never trust the things, one minute as sweet as a newborn puppy as they search you for apples the next gallivanting off and almost breaking your neck as they charge off into the forest. Tam shivers slightly and turns back to look out into the passing landscape. It was...Different he thought, certainly more open than the city but he was unsure on how he would do in this environment. His brother on the other hand seemed to be excelling now that they were away from the city. His other companions he would have to wait and see. Fiddling with one of his knives he decides to go see if some of these sailors wished to dice with him, maybe even play match the knife throw. He grins to himself, maybe adventuring wasn't so bad.
And then the walking came, he swore he would kill his brother. Sun up to sundown, walking, and more walking. His feet were so sore and had blisters on top of blisters. He would take any chance to slow down and take breaks causing his brother endless frustration, which almost made up for the sore feet in all the fun he had doing it. So maybe adventuring was alot of walking he could deal with that right? Well perhaps he should invest in a horse to do the walking for him.
When they finally arrived at their destination Tam almost groans with happiness. He mutters "Finally, thought we would never get here." However when they meet the lovely Svetlana he perks up at the sight of her but upon hearing her words and the fact she was married he was back to being himself. Come to think of it Tam actually missed woman. In the city there was never an abscence of pretty girls one could look at and admire, though talking to them was another matter. I wonder if there is any other woman out here? he thinks to himself before passing a curious gaze over the others in the group wondering their thoughts and how they fared.
The journey has quite visibly taken the wizard out of his comfort zone at first. The river trek being particularly frightening on him, as he confesses he does not know how to swim. But where his courage nigh falter, his determination covers up, and when they all get to the fort, he seems to calm down, until the word comes that the soldiers are being recalled én masse, which seems to shake the wizard, as the fort is overlooking a rather vital trade road, and abandoning such a post is a grave indicator of how bad the tension between north and south must be getting.
However, this seems to bolster Stanis' determination, as the importance of the group's mission became that much more evident, something he shares with the party to bolster their spirits, while keeping quiet about the nagging suspicion that they are being thrown in as expendable bait to test the waters between the real investments that is hiring Maegar Varn's Varnling Host, and the master aldori duelist Hannis Drelev, who are to dig in on the flanks of the Stolen Lands.
Throughout the hike, the wizard seems surprisingly hardy in the face of weariness, displaying a healthy attitude towards hard work, and does not complain a single time about the effort required. At points where the road snakes so the overview is poor, he sends out the gold and red thrush to scout ahead, in order to avoid falling pray to an ambush by the bandits of the region.
The varisians have him somewhat on edge and watching his moneybelt when the two groups meet, but soon giving in to the atmosphere when they prove themselves trustworthy, and spending time gathering information about the road ahead, so his party would be prepared.
When they arrive at the trading post, Stanis' tension seems to ease as he gives a sigh of relief that they were not too late in regards to helping these beleaguered folk, though not being too pleased with the obvious deficiencies of the place, immediately starting to think of ways the trading post could be improved, realizing that they might be forced to stay here for a long while.
Stanis hangs back as the young woman greets the party, understanding that a small, unarmored man with a thrush perched on his shoulder and tubes holding parchment along his hip might not inspire as much hope as armored men with hefty weapons. Wizards are not common to Brevoy, so he could only imagine how alien they must be out here. "What is wrong master? Is it not common etiquette to at least introduce oneself?" Notarius chirps in protests, always eager to remind Stanis of proper diplomatic protocol.
James comes wearily into the trading post, feet aching and body tired. The Inquisitor had been silent on the boat trip and even more so on the road. He missed home, should he be honest, as this hard life agreed with him less than he had expected. Still, he never complained outside of mentally and moved along with the rest. The half-elf finally perked up a bit upon meeting and enjoying a night with the Varisians, finding himself in the back of two different wagons before the night was done. Though I regret it now. Should have known I should abstain when I'm working this hard in the daytime as well. As he walked through the door and met the lovely Svetlana he smiled charmingly and offered his hand. "James Herecea milady. Agent of The Savored Sting."] James made the short sign of Calistrea as he spoke with his other hand and peered about for the eponymous Oleg. [b]"Could your husband use some help with whatever he is mending? My feet are killing me to no end but my arms are fine to work as well as I can, though I have no training in such things."{/b] As he speaks James distractedly dusts himself and his clothes clean of the dark brown dust of the road.
"Greetings, Mordecai, Master," Svetlana says the last softer, with her eyes momentarily going to the bright thrush on Stanislaw's shoulder. "James, that will not be necessary. My husband, is-"
"Here," a gruff male voice interrupts. You look and see that the man fits his voice, large, weathered and sweating from his exertion. "Your husband is here, Wife," he says, emphasizing the last when his eyes fall on James's holy symbol, strides up to her purposefully and places a determined hand around her waist, pulling her into him and away from you. Upon closer inspection, you recognize that Oleg is considerably older than his wife, at least a decade, if not more.
"You be what the Lords of Restov have so generously sent?" he fairly sneers. "The burly lad, I see," he gives an approving nod to Mordecai, "But two skinny boys, a priest and a skirt raiser? What manner of aide can you lend against bandits? Stealing their women? I wish you joy of it, though, that one would give your little toys there a run for their money," he chuckles and it is not at all a pleasant sound.
Svetlana appears to balk under her husband's seemingly overprotective behavior, and perhaps, the smell of his exertion, but she makes no motion to deter him. "It is true that the they may appear weak, but unless I am mistaken, the Master with the bird on his shoulder is a magician, and true priests are far more than orators at a pulpit," Svetlana gives Stanislaw and Ladislaus an approving nod. "I do not feel as though these men have any ill intent, and if we afford them the same respect they have lent us they might even assist us," Svetlana negotiates sagely, her voice calm throughout.
"A magician?" Oleg repeats, and then shakes his head. He sighs loudly, and his hand presses his wife's hip purposefully before he leans forward and places a chaste kiss on her cheek. "You always were full of pretty dreams, my love."
Mordecai returns the man's nod and then glances over his companions again. Oleg might have been gruff but Mordecai knows that he is only made so by desperation. Things must truly be bad out here for him to almost turn away possible aid. Yes, his brother was nothing much in the ways of brawn to look at, and even Tam was bigger than Stanislaw. However, Mordecai knew from experiance not to underestimate any sort of fighter in any given situation. People like Tam always had a trick up their sleeves to deal with opposition, and he shuddered to think what the Wizard was capable to summoning to battle from his no doubt powerful array of sorcery. And again, that bladed whip of James' looked a lot more lethal than many would credit.
He smiles a little at the sweetness of Oleg to his wife before he extends a gauntleted hand to shake Oleg's. "Mordecai at your service, Master Oleg. We am here to render our services however we can to aid you."
"Why good morning Master Leveton. It's wonderful to meet you and your wife. Don't feel threatened by my presence, for it says in the Book of Joy 'to take pleasure from another's love is allowed, but attempt to find peace with all in the situation. Never take a cheater to your bed.'" James makes the lie smoothly. It was part of his own code and not one of the churches, but he followed it nonetheless. I suppose that's why I am Herecea. "As for my skills, while I am a formidable conqueror of hearts and beds, I also am fair skilled at combat with the Lady in Yellow to aid my arm."
Stanislaw raises an eyebrow at the dismissal of his ability, and promptly weaves a small glob of acid into being, which flies from his fingertip as he points it towards something expendable. "Sadly the only spell with any flash I have prepared and willing to waste. I refuse to expend a magical scroll merely to impress, as they are rather expensive to create. Which I am sure a seasoned merchant as yourself can understand."
"My more potent spells involve putting people to sleep, illusions to deceive, or stun and blind." He looks around to the party, nodding a Mordecai "I have spells to make people as tall and strong as a hill giant, protect them against mind-control as well as ward myself and others from harm." Stanislaw then motions to the thrush who chirps and fluffs up with pride "Greetings, good sir Leveton, I am Notarius. I serve Master Branthorn as his eyes in the sky, and am a formidable spy, able to spot a bandit from miles away."
Stanislaw finally smiles with some confidence, the pride derived from his education and scholarly skills shining through "Beyond these abilities, I am a fairly good shot with the crossbow, fluent in seven languages, a sage in all fields of magic, geography and the natural world, political and legal matters, as well as a skilled calligraphist, scribe and cartographer. Hopefully, I will be able to contribute in some manner."
"Ha!" Oleg snorts derisively at James, and seems prepared to spit more vitriol when Stanislaw speaks. His manner appears to change as he listens to the argument falling from the wizards lips. "And if your spells fail to put them to sleep, most assuredly your speech might," he jests with a grin. "As my wife were the one whose better judgment called you here, I will allow her to dictate this once," he warns, and gives you all a stern look before nodding. "There's work to be done yet. Bandits or no, that leak has got to be fixed..." he mutters and strides back towards the building behind you, disappears behind it for a moment, then reappears on the roof and continues beating on the roof with his hammer.
Svetlana looks after her husband's exit with concern. "He is a good man," she assures you softly. "Won't you please come and sit? I've made stew, and there's bread, and oh! wine as well. You must be weary from your travels, and hungry besides. I will return in just a moment, please make yourselves comfortable!"
You feel obliged to indulge Svetlana's request, and gather at the table. She returns in a few moments with a tray laden with bowls, cups, a basket of bread and a bottle of wine. She hands the bottle and the opener to James, perhaps to show that there are no hard feelings, then quickly darts away with the bowls on the tray, and returns with your food promptly. The stew is mostly hearty root vegetables and there is very little meat, but it is filling, and most importantly, warm and spiced, likely the best meal any of you have had since leaving Restov.
After you have eaten, Svetlana explains the situation with the bandits. They first appeared three months ago, threatened to burn down the post and her own safety for their own amusement if they did not part with their stock and coin. Svetlana is visibly troubled recounting this. Since, she tells you, they have returned twice more, within an hour of sunrise on the first day of the month.
"You could not have arrived on a more prodigious date," she says, "My husband, though fierce, has not the means of protecting us," she says, and then arrests herself. "The bandits will surely be here tomorrow. Will you help?"
Mordedcai straightens up at her words, the empty bowl of soup clattering away at his abrupt movement before one strong hand re steadies it. "Tom morrow? They arrive tomorrow? Well then we have no time to waste! We will meet these marauders on the morrow blade to blade! If you will excuse us for a moment, Lady Svetlana, we need a moment to plan on how best to give these bandits what they deserve."
He bows his head to her then turns his full attention on his companions, lowering his voice, his eyes hard on each of them. "Now then...how best to meet these rogues? Tam? James? I say we wait in ambush for them to arrive, and then attempt to close shut the doors behind them, trapping them within the fort so none of them can escape."
Stanis lifts a hand to calm Mordecai "Lets get all the facts first." he requests, and sends Notarius out and up to get a good overview, then proceeds to draw up a rough sketch of the outpost based on the bird's estimates before turning to Svetlana "Mrs Leveton, might I inquire as to how many bandits you assume there will be, what arms and armor they use, if they are mounted or not, are there any spellcasters, and any other information that might be useful for us?"
Svetlana appears for a moment overcome by Mordecai's enthusiasm, but bends her head to Stanislaw's sedate approach.
"Aye, Master Branthorn. When they first arrived there were a dozen bandits, 10 of little consequence lead by a man carrying a bow and a woman with two hatchets. The woman spoke most, she... had a foul sense of humor," Svetlana shivers as if chilled. "She seemed to enjoy telling me what her men would do to me if she simply allowed them to be as beastial as they ought," she sighs, and shakes her head.
"But, she was also the keenest of them. The man in the cloak were more simple in his cruelty. She," Svetlana's expression becomes resolute, and she looks to her hands, which are devoid of any ornamentation. "She took my wedding ring, and nearly Oleg's hand with her axe when he objected. She tossed it to her men and said that it was equal payment for not shortening his reach.
"She has been absent the last two times they've come, leaving only the archer with a smaller division of men. The last time there were only four, lightly armored, with crude weapons. Not," Svetlana looks to Mordecai and Ladislaus, "They do not appear as heavy as you, or as well equipped, but I cannot say for certain how many there will be."
: For reference in preparation for the fight, this is what Oleg's place looks like. I will keep it up, hopefully, for as long as you need it, and then delete the map so as not to violate any copyright issues I don't know of. Oleg's Trade Post.
Mordecai growls at the barbaric cruelty of these bandits, gripping the table in one heavy hand until it creaks and his knuckles pop. He then lets go and stands, motioning to the group to follow. "Come on, let's take a walk about the courtyard. We'll need to set up choke points on where we can hem them in, where certain non-melee members can stand without threat of being charged and where each of us should take up position for the ambush. If you will excuse us, good lady" He grabs up his sword from where he set it and begins walking to the door.
Tam shuffles over to the cart peering at it with interest. I could fit in there easily enough, pile on some snow and wait, would be cold though but when the battle starts a quick hop throw a knife and least one bandit down hopefully, and myabe there will only be a couple this time. Course i'll have to jump down quick or ill be a prime target standing there.
Then as he looks around he see's james whip and it brings in mind a question.
"James? How long can you use that whip? What i mean is what is your range with it?"
That B+!#$... James thinks angrily. "Don't worry Mrs. Leveton, I swear by the Savored Sting I will return this symbol of you and your husbands bond to you." He walks with Mordecai, scanning the courtyard. "Perhaps it would be better to allow some of the bandits to get away, after all, an enemy who is demoralized can be and extremely useful tool." James watches Tam looking at the cart. "Perhaps you could hide inside?" He questions, stumbling over Tam's own question. "Sorry, I can attack around fifteen feet with my whip, but it is difficult to attack if I'm unready for it. Perhaps I could attack from the walls, keeping them from fleeing with my whip and striking with my crossbow?" James shakes his small crossbow from his sleeve and then pulls it back into the red interior.
Tam notes the crossbow with interest and looks at James intently before going back to the question at hand. "Perhaps. However if we shut the doors they couldn't escape at all something you musclebound warriors could accomplish easily." Tam snickers slightly as he looks at the obvious difference between James and his brother but turns serious once more.
"Actually what I had in mind was let my brother take the fore front of fighting but then you stand behind him using that whip to harass and cover his flank."
"You are very kind, James," Svetlana replies sweetly. "It is a simple band, set with a single pearl, not of much monetary value, but... as you say, it is the symbol of our bond."
Your Observations
The AP does not list a specific height for the walking areas of the palisades, but does say that the walls themselves are 10 feet high. I assume that the walking area would be at most 7 feet from the ground, to provide cover. I will rule that you can reach with your whip from there, and get the +1 for higher ground, provided that the bandits are on foot.
Sealing the gate after the bandits arrive is a good idea in theory, but the doors are each 15 feet wide and are quite heavy, and would require an entire round each to shut. That is a round that they have to react and shoot you while you are undefended closing these things.
Mordecai scowls a little at James and shakes his head. "Allowing the bandits to live and escape would only bring them back again in force. THe best strategy is to slay all of them that we can, leaving one alive, and then move as quickly as possible to their base of operations."
He scratches his stubble and eyes his sword then nods a little. "Having you hide in the wagon is a sound idea Tam. The front of combat is where I would do the most good."
He glances then at Stanis. "You, Stanis, should take up a position where you can employ both your crossbow and magic without being in danger of close combat. Also, if you have any spells to weaken our opponents or perhaps strengthen one of us, it would swing the battle more in our favor. I know nothing of magic, so I leave the idea up to you."
He draws his sword then and twirls it about his hand for a couple times, pondering on where he could hide himself until the moment was right for him to move out and attack the bandits with his blade. Possessing no ranged weapons, the only good he could do was up close fighting, something he excelled in.
He nods to his companions, expressing his quandary on where to position himself.
Stanis looks at his map of the outpost and gives Mordecai an acknowledging nod when he finishes "I will prepare a spell that might put several of them to sleep, first and foremost. Tactically so we might interrogate them and learn what we can about the bandit infrastructure in the region, and legally because the charter calls for sword and rope to end the life of unrepentant banditry. And I do not feel comfortable with the wholesale slaughter of fellow human beings when it can be avoided..." Stanislaw pauses to allow the notion to sink in "Should they resist the sleep spell, then we should not take any chances; I will use a spell of enlargement from a scroll, that will make you larger and stronger. I do have another nonlethal spell, but it entails a good bit of risk, as the range is rather short. And if they are able to resist one spell, they are likely able to resist another."
He looks to the map and points to the barn "I planned to set the barn door slightly ajar, to mimic an arrow-slit, to provide me with cover against their ranged weaponry, as well as impede anyone charging." he looks to Mordecai again "However." he says with a grave tone "IF we intend to charge on into the wilds immediately after, I will have to reconsider the spells I use, as I am not keen on going into the wilds only armed with parlor tricks, having spent my more powerful spells."
Mordecai gives the wizard an approving nod, struck by the idea of being the size of a giant. More than normal in any case. "Your ideas are all sound Stanis. Putting the bandits to sleep would be the best idea, but if they resist I will have no choice but to put down any who do not surrender."
He scratches at his stubble and then eyes his companions again. "The stables may be your best bet, just make sure you don't fire until I have drawn their attention. If your spells don't work we'll have a real fight on our hands. Tam, Ladislaus, I'll need you to cover my back." Secretly, Mordecai hopes the spell won't work, it has been almost a full year since he had felt the true rush and exhiliration of combat. He shakes his head, Gorum's battle-lust fading from his head quickly. He needed to keep his mind clear. He turns to eye the Inquisitor.
"James, your idea to cover us from the walkway above is also a good strategy, your whip and crossbow will prove effect in keeping the rogues occupied enough that they will be trapped within." Then his face darkens and he eyes the Leveton residence. "My only concern is...how will we keep Master Oleg and his wife from harm? Maybe...when the battle starts Oleg and Svetlana could bar their door until we give them the all clear? The last thing I want is to drag these innocents into this confrontation anymore than they already have been"
"From her earlier accounts, I do believe that their presence will be anticipated, if not expected," Ladislaus chimes in. "This does not mean necessarily that they must be present physically, however," he continues and looks pointedly at Stanislaw. "Were you not responsible for the image of our Lord's Key on Taxfest Last, Banker?"