Alister winces at the pain in his side. He gingerly touches his ribs. They were at least bruised if not broken. He looks up as Loy Rezbin enters with some of the other defenders. The Medyved bastard puts on a smile and greets the Mayor of Tatzlford. "Loy, I'm glad we were able to push them back. And these men were key? Thank you, gentlemen. Your bravery and skill are admirable. I'm Alister Medyved." He goes to shake each of their hands, and you note that he introduced himself without any title at all.
He gestures to the others. "Come, meet my friends. This is my brother, Aristu. The mighty and devout Mikhail. My master of coin, Piotr. And the master of the wilds, Kernithar."
He takes in Fizz, Evindyl, and finally Sir Estiban. His gaze lingers on the man and his armor and sigils. "Well, you've proven yourselves quite useful. Perhaps you'll be our guests for a bit?"
"Loy, I know the town has been ravaged, but perhaps we can find something to celebrate our victory with? The people need something to lift their spirits and help them celebrate. I can have Eristhea send supplies if needed, but it'll be a several days."
"A celebration would be good for spirits. But there will be much work to repair and tally what was lost." Mikhail says with a frown at the devastation he saw while returning to town.
GM FIAT:
COMBAT OVER
The team overwhelms the enemy commander, Ameon Trask, and his two giant troll bodyguards. The defenders of Tatzlford route the last of the attackers from Drelev. They flee back into the forest or the swamp and are effectively done as a fighting force.
Among the defenders who most distinguished themselves were the cavalier Sir Esteban, the monk Evindyl and the mysterious halfling oracle Fizz Moonberry. These worthies are now gathered at Mayor Rezbin's house along with Baron Alister and his companions, Aristu, Mikhail, Piotr and Kernithar.
"And so, Your Grace," says Loy Rezbin to Alister, "These men were the reason we did not lose more men today. I commend them to your notice."
"I would ask only one thing; I would ask that all who make the great sacrifice be forever commended to the service of your lands. It is right to hold up as an example those who are genuine to your cause. My honour is greater to have stood with them. My flights are in their memory today."
With that said, Evindyl smiles"Well met my lords, and good happenstance it would seem. We are glad to be here. The town is surely still in need, of a party and of assistance."
"Loy, I know the town has been ravaged, but perhaps we can find something to celebrate our victory with? The people need something to lift their spirits and help them celebrate. I can have Eristhea send supplies if needed, but it'll be a several days."
"I have great store of mead and honey-cakes, Your Grace, more that I have actual provender. It is an odd thing that, thanks to the traitor Tenzekil, Tatzlford is more ready for a feast than a famine or a siege. I think a celebration could be arranged on short notice."
"But I must ask. Will you avenge our losses on the Barony of Drelev and this bandit baron?"
Alister takes a deep breath and nods grimly. "Rest assured, Drelev will answer for this." He looks at the others, including the new defenders. "I want to consult with the others on how to approach this, however. If we simply strike back, it may spell the end for all of us. But it's not the first time, we've dealt with a threat to the Sword Marches. We will get to the bottom of this and make Drelev answer for using trolls against us."
Looking around at the others before speaking up, scratching his chin as he speaks, "Seems like much of the threat is past then, eh? Time to rebuild your kingdom, sir?" Pacing the room, counting off steps on his fingers, "I guess we can start with funerals for any fallen, and disposing of any troll bodies before they start to stink. . . Goodness knows a troll already smells bad, can't imagine a dead troll stinking up the place,"
Looking around at the others before speaking up, scratching his chin as he speaks, "Seems like much of the threat is past then, eh? Time to rebuild your kingdom, sir?" Pacing the room, counting off steps on his fingers, "I guess we can start with funerals for any fallen, and disposing of any troll bodies before they start to stink. . . Goodness knows a troll already smells bad, can't imagine a dead troll stinking up the place,"
"YES - and let each of us preside in our way. The fallen matter."
"This threat has been beaten back, but I doubt it has ended. And others are in need of aid. I think we need to at least scout out what is happening and ensure the remnants of that army does not turn to banditry in these areas." Mikhail says.
"Of course, I can aid with funerals and the burial of the dead." Sir Esteban said. "Afterward, I can help with scouting as well."
"Yes, tonight we rest, honor our dead, celebrate the living, and take stock of what remains. We can address the problem of Drelev in the next few days."
Alister and the Rezbins preside over a feast of celebration. It is a relatively somber affair, given the many dead of Tatzlford, but the people are proud of their victory and pleased with the heroic efforts of their Baron and his court.
"In the morning we should head out and ensure that the army truly leaves. It might be worth ensuring that the loss of their leader doesn't lead to a vacuum that brings another army to our doorsteps." Mikhail says.
In the evening after most of the somber festivities have died down, Alister assembles a council. "Let's do a thorough search of the commander's camp and belongings. We also need to know what other incursions or encounters people may have had nearby. Kern, you're the fastest. Can you lead a team of runners to check on nearby settlements? Particularly Khavatorov and the Vale. I'll contact Them tonight and see if there's any other word from Drelev."
He looks at the others. "I see a few options open to us. Right now, we have very little information. We could try to track the trolls back to where they came to see what we can find there. We could head south to meet with the fey and see what they know. Or we could simply head into Drelev in force and demand answers."
"Thoughts?"
Nodding, "Making sure the rest of the settlements are safe is smart. Considering the damage these trolls did though, might be worth stopping them before they can regroup or prepare another attack,"
Pounding his fist into his hand, "I'd say these Trolls are the biggest threat, finding out where they came from seems the best plan, last thing we need to so go to Drelev only for another troll army to come sweep us from behind,"
"I agree with you Fizz, we need to make sure there isn't another attack."
"Lets head off then." Malgrim says as he is ready to go.
The trolls don't really have a track, as they came from within the huge swamp known as the Hooktongue Slough. It lies between Tatzlford and Drelev. Are you headed in there?
"We need a plan, before we rush headlong into that swamp," states Piotr.
"Still, we should ensure that no forces remain between here and Hooktongue Slough. And, as we proceed, choose a place where we have an advantage should more trolls come from the Slough."
Sir Esteban looked confused.
"I am new come to these lands. Where is this Slough? Can it take a heavy horse?" He asked aloud.
Nodding along with the discussion, "A swamp makes sense for trolls, I imagine you have maps of the area? I've a pretty good head for directions but maps always help too. Desna bless me, I've never been lost, only places I've never been before!"
Looking at the maps of the area with the group, "Looks like the town we are in, Tatzlford is the closest town this side of the Slough. Can always try and set up a nice base camp just on the outskirts of the forest where they connect to the Swamp,"
"Animals survive in the slough, so a horse should be able to survive. But one misstep might get you and your mount into serious trouble." Mikhail says.
"A camp on the swamp's outskirts is a good idea." he nods to Fizz, then turns to Sir Esteban. "I wouldn't take a horse into the Slough if I didn't have to. If we must enter the swamp, it's probably best to leave your steed behind at the camp."
New troops will take a week or so to arrive.
If you're headed to Drelev it's either through the slough or around it to the north by way of Khavatorov.
"We should plan to follow the army as far as we can track them. Through the Slough if necessary. Having them gather together in the swamp to strike out at us would be poor for the people in this area." Mikhail says and continues, "They probably took the straight path towards home, but maybe they opted to go around. We won't know till we set out."
Piotr listens for a moment, before summoning Corb.
"My friend, please follow the trail of those trolls. Go no more than an hour away ... that will be enough to tell whether they are actually headed into the swamp, or preparing an ambush for a pursuing force," he asks his familiar.
"And the usual prohibitions apply ... you know what not to eat. And, don't be tempted to fly low enough that a goblin with a bow or a giant with a rock can knock you from the sky."
After giving the raven a treat, Jerry watches as his familiar takes to the sky. When Corb is speck in the sky, Jerry turns to his companions.
"No point charging into an ambush. We should learn what we can about this force of potential enemies."
Corb returns with news that the trolls have scattered into the Hooktongue Slough. You know that their chaotic nature means that trolls rarely band together unless a powerful leader drives them to do so. With the general dead, the trolls have ceased to be a coherent force.
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Speaking up, "Well if the trolls are true and really disbanded, I guess we can leave them be, I'm not sure hunting down and killing every last troll is the best course of action right now,"
"Then perhaps we should consider a more specific visit to Drelev to get to the truth of the matter. No reason to go through the Slough; that will just slow us down. We can go around it and to Fort Drelev itself."
"That," Aristu points at his brother, "Sounds considerably less horrid than slogging through the Slough." He pauses to consider, then continues along a different track, "Exactly how much force are you thinking of bringing?"
Piotr speaks with his familiar, "Thank you, friend."
He distracts the raven - or, tries to distract Corb - while he reaches into a pocket for a piece of jerky. Piotr attempts to produce it with a flourish before holding it out for Corb.
Once the raven has gulped down the treat, Piotr asks another question.
"What of the smaller people? Humans, like myself. Are they still together as a group?"
Corb swallows the proffered jerky greedily and preens a feather for a bit before fixing his master with a beady eye.
"There were scattered pockets of them trying to make their way through the swamp or south along the forest's edge. No large groups."
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Looking to the others, cheerfully, "Looks like we have a journey ahead of us, if we are trying to move quickly, I might have to ride along with someone on a horse. I'm not much of a horse rider but, I have ways of reducing my weight considerably, so you won't even notice me if I ride along with someone!"
"You can ride with me if you do not feel comfortable upon your own mount. But we should leave as soon as we can mount up." Mikhail says.
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"I suppose we must," grumbles Piotr. "I feel like a loose bundle of rags after riding as fast as we must."
After a pause, he continues,"Although a bundle of rags wouldn't be sore. Corb, you have a good memory - add create flying device to my list of projects!"
"Finally!" squawks Corb. "Fly! Fly!"
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Three days later, Baron Medvyed and his retinue (new guys - that's you) ride into Khavatorov on the western edge of the Sword Marches (see maps!) and are welcomed by nervous farmers and traders of the border village. The inn there ("The White Stag") is small and humble and the innkeeper is overwhelmed by your sudden presence.
"M...my lord....my lords... Sirs. Welcome. Welcome to the White Stag. Sit anywhere. Oh! I didn't mean to... I mean, sit, if you want to sit. Or...can I get you drinks?"
As the man is slowly melting into a puddle of nervous sweat, a man in dusty riding leathers approaches. "Baron Alister? Lord, I am Alguin, a post-rider for Lady Jamandi Aldori. I have a message for you."
He offers a rolled-up scroll to Alister.
Lord Alister Medvyed from the Lady Jamandi Aldori, Greeting.
My lord it is my solemn duty to declare to you that the people of Rostland have declared their independence from the odious rule of Noleski Surtova, who calls himself the Regent of Brevoy. The House of the Conqueror is no more and Rostland will no longer be ruled by the Issians of New Stetven.
In the name of Rostland and the Sword Lords, I call on you to declare your allegiance to Rostland and send envoys to the City of Restov in token of this bond between our people.
Jamandi, by the grace of the gods Sword Lord of Restov and Queen of Rostland.
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Overjoyed to see an Inn, Fizz hops down off of Mikhail's horse, patting the beast on the rump. Happy to be offered drinks by the gracious but stammering innkeeper, "Ah a drink would be nice, sir! The throat sure does get parched after a long ride,"
Fizz goes about casting Prestidigitation to clean himself off from the riding dust, and any of his belongings that might be dirty. Pulling his Staff of Healing out of his Haversack, he twirls it before thumping it into the floor, resting it beside him, "How're you fine folk doing? Everyone healthy any ailments bothering some of the locals? If you know of anyone sick, send 'em our way, we can probably provide some healing if anyone needs any. Granted we have the time"
Sir Esteban enjoyed his ride through the countryside in the retinue of Baron Medvyed. He tried to pay attention to the terrain of these new wild lands.
Dismounting, he cased his knight's pennon, stabled Avalanche his trusty mount and went inside.
When offered, he smiled and nodded.
"Yes of course! I'll take a pint of whatever you have. Do you have anything to eat as well?" He asked, reassuring the nervous man.
At the announcement of the post rider, Esteban wondered if he had heard the name 'Jamandi Aldori' before.
Alister takes the scroll, reads it, and then hands it to his brother and the others. He turns back to the rider. "Were you there for this proclamation? Do you know how the people of Restov are reacting? Also, do you know if the Lady Jamandi dispatched riders to other areas?"
He turns to the others. "This is serious if it's true. We may have open civil war in Brevoy."
"A war that will lead to a great deal of strife and breaking of the social order. Whatever course you choose will be difficult." Mikhail says with a frown as he considers the news.
Saddened by the contents of the letter, frowning before handing it off "Hopefully, if you do declare your support, it might be enough to to scare the Surtovan's off from waging Civil War with this Almandi friend of yours. I doubt they'd want to wage a civil war when their enemy has the support of an ally nation,"
"Or we risk bringing open war to the Sword Marches. Invasion by Brevoy will be very different than a horde of trolls. We've been focused on the dangers of the frontier, mostly to the west and south. I don't think we're prepared for an attack from the North."
He sighs. "And if we don't declare, trying to remain neutral, what then? Leave Lady Jamandi to suffer her fate alone?"
"It also seems like she wishes to control the Sword Marches. She is looking for fealty, not friendship." Mikhail says.
Nodding with Mikhail's assumption, "I thought the same from reading it as well, Mikhail. I'm not sure what your relationship is to this Lady Jamandi, Alister, but to me it sounds like she is manipulating you into this war. Maybe remain neutral and send envoys to both parties and suggest something other than war?"
It was the Sword Lords of Restov who first gave your group the charter to explore and settle the Greenbelt. You may recall that there were four charters, one to you in the Greenbelt, one to Maegar Varn in the Dunsward, one to Baron Hannis Drelev, whose territory was to include both the Hooktongue Slough and the Little Sellen river, and the fourth charter to the famous Iron Tigers adventuring group in the far west along the Numerian border.
Varnhold is now part of your realm and the Dunsward has been divided between you and the Nomen centaurs. Hannis Drelev appears to have declared war on you and you've -never- had word from the Iron Tigers.
Lady Jamandi is an influential leader among the Sword Lords, who are the traditional nobility of Rostland, subdued (along with the nobility of Issia) when Choral the Conqueror overran both nations with his dragons more than a century ago. Now that Choral and his entire house have disappeared, the enmity between Issia and Rostland has finally spilled into war.
Lady Jamandi is young as Sword Lords go, but clearly she is well-respected enough to have been declared Queen of Rostland by the other Sword Lords. You've only met her once, way back when the Charter was given to you.
It's up to you to determine whether you own the Sword Lords any allegiance or fealty.