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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 southwest 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.
Whether by one of the Swordlords themselves or by their servants, four explorers out of Restov have been commissioned to explore and pacify the region known as the Greenbelt, a wild swath of the Stolen Lands. A trapper, drawn by the stories her grandfather told of a better life. An elf, fleeing what she perceives as a dangerous revolution waiting to happen. The only daughter of a minor noble, exiled to avoid a disastrous scandal. And a half-blooded bastard, looking to make a name for himself away from his ‘royal’ family.
On the First of Pharast, as the sun reaches its high point, each of you can makes out an old fort, no more than a rough wooden palisade and a few platforms for fighting built around a handful of squat log buildings. Still, it’s the fourth day out of Restov, and it’s exactly where the Swordlords said it would be. Oleg’s Trading Post.
Chernilla was panting slightly due to the exertion of several days hard riding that she was not used to. Daen wasn't much use when it came to animal care, but he knew how to direct them. He overheard his father say to his brothers that directing a horse was like directing a wife. A firm hand was needed to make them behave. Of course, his father was an *#^$ that knew nothing of horses or ladies.
The freedom of the open plane as well as the company of strong and capable women had kept Daen in a good mood, which of course meant he frowned less often than usual. The air was still quite brisk, and the snow had melted in places due to some warm days, but it was still early in the year and it could still dump a fine blanket of powder if they did not keep the good will of whichever god was in charge of the weather here.
In any case, the sight of the fort brought an end to his introspection and gave opportunity for the swordsman to give voice. "If that's a fort, I can see while there's a problem with banditry around here. Is it so far from civilization that they couldn't dress stones? Give me five gold worth of oil and a handful of arrows and I could burn it down from here."
Ankova's feet ache from the days of forced marching, and the rest of her body is sore from sleeping on the cold, hard earth rather than a proper bed with feather pillows, so she's far more grateful to finally spy the fort. Letting out a long sigh, she exclaims, "Finally!" and then takes a seat on a rocky outcropping sticking up through the endless plains stretching north and south from the road. "I don't care what it's made of, so long as it's warm and dry and has beds. Besides, no sane person is going to set the place on fire, it's a trading post, not a garrison. Burn it down and there's nothing left to steal."
She unlaces one boot and yanks it off, shaking it vigorously until a pebble falls out, then slides it back on and readjusts all the straps on her armor and backpack, "If we're lucky, there will be a good chef there too."
From the outcropping, to the west, you can see a dark green line on the horizon; the Narlmarches, a sprawling forest filled, rumor has it, with creatures both foul and fey, and dotted with the ruins of unsuccessful colonization attempts. To the south-southwest and south, just at the edge of vision, the plains give way the Kamelands, rolling hills like waves on the sea, their grasses brown with the passing winter. According to the charters you each carry, you are to explore parts of both of these. Just after Oleg's, the South Rostland Road turns north, back toward Brevoy and civilization, while back to the east is Restov and home. A single white cloud drifts lazily across the sky over the Narlmarch, the cold breeze from the north bearing it away from Oleg's.
Laliytsa reins in her horse when she spies the old fort. She studies it with a critical eye; it looks similar to other trading posts she's visited. Her horse, Wild, shifts impatiently under her. She pats him on the neck to quiet him.
For the first time in four days she speaks without being asked a direct question. "Wouldn't count on sane bandits. People get...strange out here sometimes." She offers Ankova a small smile. "At least the job will be interesting"
Low to High
History: The Stolen Lands have had a history of being hard to tame. Brevoy and many of the River Kingdoms have had claims on it in the past.
Geography: The Shrike River isn't navigable because of a pair of 30-foot waterfalls, otherwise it would be very useful for trade. The Skunk River is named for its hot-springs and smelly algae, which give it, and the area around it, a distinctive scent.
Nobility: You remember that one of the others who was given a charter was Maegar Varn Aldori, a recently-raised Swordlord who still goes by, and responds to, his original surname. He's young and eager to impress, and he was given a charter for the Nomen Heights, to make peace with the centaurs there.
Local: The area is inhabited by a large number of fey, who are renowned tricksters and nature-lovers in addition to having an inhuman understanding of life and death. Cold Iron seems to hurt them more than good hard steel. The area further south is known for its troll population, and they sometimes travel further north to hunt. Finally, is there anything specific you'd like to know?
Daen was forced to admit, at least to himself that a hot meal and a reasonable bed were appealing. But he had resigned himself to much discomfort already. After all, they were being sent out here with little supplies to do a grand job. He turned to Laliytsa "For lack of a better term, I'll agree."
Looking back over at his fellow half-elf, one of few he'd ever met, a bit puzzled by her. For the most part, he'd seen her around occasionally when training. Her skill with hangover cures being much greater than her her skill with the sword, he'd never had occasion to cross swords with her. He had often thought over the past few days to spar with her, but never asked. Sparring with someone required a fair bit of trust. And that was something he felt he hadn't earned as of yet.
"Well, may I at least hope that our expedition isn't so interesting that we run into a troll? At least when you run a bandit through with a sword they have a tendency to die and stay dead. With trolls, they never seem to actually stay dead, and just keep springing back to life no matter how often you stab them or lop off body parts." She stretches her arms and tries to loosen up her muscles while continuing to do her best to keep up pace while on foot. As much as she seems woefully unprepared for this expedition, she is at least stubborn enough to remain committed to it, almost as if trying to spite someone else.
As you near the trading post, details become more clear. On each of the fighting platforms, 20 feet off the ground, sits an obviously-damaged catapult. The palisade is ten feet high, made from roughly-hewn logs that have been spiked together, and the buildings' roofs are made of wooden planks. On top of one of the smaller buildings, a man in hammers down a board. From a distance, he looks to be in his mid-thirties.
You ride and walk through a massive gate on rusty hinges, the bottom of its doors digging into the courtyard's dirt and its wood somewhat warped from time’s passing. Inside, a large stables sits along much of the western wall, and a relatively large home occupies the northeast corner. A fire crackles off to the east between two tables, and the smell of strongly-peppered stew wafts toward you. A woman, blonde hair half-hidden under a green bandanna and much younger than the man on the roof, alternates between looking up at him anxiously while offering advice and holding her hands out over the fire while singing a traditional Brevic song.
The woman notices you entering the courtyard and stops singing, the last few words dying on her lips. For a moment there's a look of panic on her face, but then it clears and she walks hurriedly toward you. "Oh, thank Old Deadeye! We've been waiting for someone to answer our pleas months now. The letter said you were coming, and you’d be able to help us, but when I saw you I thought you might be them for a moment. My name is Svetlana, Svetlana Leveton, and the man on the roof is Oleg.Can I take your horses to the stable? I’ve been practicing with Claptrap, rubbing him down and feeding him. Oleg says I’ve gotten pretty good at it. If you’re hungry, I've got an elk stew on the fire, fresh bread inside, and I even opened a bottle of wine for you. It's gamey, but good. The stew, I mean, not the wine."
"Pffft. That letter also said they were here to explore the wilderness. If the Swordlords want to explore, they're planning to expand, and that means less space here. I didn't leave Restov so I could be surrounded by manipulative, politicking people again!" Oleg works his way down a ladder and walks over, sweat soaking through his linen shirt even in the brisk weather. His face, framed by two well-maintained sideburns, looks glum. Svetlana shoots him a dirty look over her shoulder, and he flushes. His gruff tone of voice doesn't change much when he continues, but it does get quieter. "Not that we don't need your help, of course. Svetlana's right about that, at least. He walks behind her, wraps a beefy arm around her waist and pulls her close to him. In return, she grasps his hand, pressing it against her stomach.
You recall hearing stories, a few months back, about a trapper who got lost in the Narlmarches and stumbled on an ancient temple of Erastil somewhere in the woods. Rumor has it that he didn't get too close, but the architecture looked Taldan.
Thylacines, a marsupial carnivore the size of a dog, are well-known denizens of the region, and your grandfather told you stories about the wild boars living in the Narlmarches. He said the largest were more than a match for even a skilled hunter.
The look on her face could have meant two things. First, his face could have reminded her of someone who had wronged her in the past. That was certainly possible, and not the first time it's happened due to his heritage. The Surtovans were a proud lot, and not prone to apologies. What they were prone to was whatever they could get away with.
The other option was that they were expecting more foul company. That wine wasn't for them, but that didn't mean he was going to turn it down. "Your hospitality is appreciated." He said that flatly, as a matter of course, with little emotive sincerity. To be honest, he didn't expect much. Although they seemed to know more than they were letting on.
Getting off his horse, he took a glance on his road weary companions. If they were going to be doing more exploring, it would be best if they somehow procured at least one more horse, if not another pack animal. Someone who could properly take care of the horses would be nice. Laliytsa actually did quite well with her horse, but Daen and his did more putting up with one another than possessing actual comradarie.
He didn't know if he wanted to breach the subject or not, but they obviously expected something. "If your problem involves unlawful activity, we have leave to rectify your situation as part of our orders."
Ankova doesn't let her confusion show for more than a moment, trying to quickly take a grasp of the situation as she looks about and then gives an appraising look at the two proprietors of the trading post, "I must admit that I wasn't informed you would be needing any sort of assistance, but as my companion has said, we can help all the same. Since we're introducing ourselves, I am Ankova of House Schwarz, out of Restov. Why don't we all have a nice sit down around a table and you can explain the problem, and perhaps even your obvious reservations about our task here. I promise I won't even attempt to seduce your lovely wife." She smiles and winks at Oleg as she says the last bit, then loosens the straps on her backpack and sets it down.
She's not entirely sure just yet as to what's going on, but suspects that we're not exactly what the Levetons were expecting.
"You weren't informed? Weren't informed!" Oleg throws his hands up in disgust, pulls off his sweat-soaked shirt, and walks over to the stables. He dips his hands into a barrel half-filled with water, splashing himself with it. "Typical of the bastards. They says they'll send guards, but nothing. They say there're explorers coming, but they're clueless! Those Swordlords can all go to the hells, for all I care! What've they done for us since we moved here?"
While Oleg mutters grumpily about the Swordlords and Restov, Svetlana disappears into the couple's house. She returns in a moment with a mostly-full bottle of wine and a stack of bowls. Setting them down on the nearest table, she runs to Oleg and grabs his arm with both hands. "Please...please try to calm down. I know it's hard sometimes, with the way Restov acts, but you've got to try." He submits and lets himself be guided to the table while Svetlana continues to talk. "We really need your help, or someone's. The wildlands out there have always had bandits, but this band is different. They marched right into the fort. Demanded taxes for their leader, and the way the men looked at me! I haven't felt like that since..." She shivers and Oleg looks at her sharply "...well, in a long time. Please sit down, I can talk while you eat."
Maraia rides in with the others, thanking Svetlana for assisting with the stabling and her hospitality. The 'young' Elf maiden slips from ehr horse serenely and joins the others as they introduce themselves and concur that they had no statements the Trade Post was in any issue of danger.
At Oleg's outburst and the general description of the issue, Maraia approaches Svetlana and places a hand gently on her shoulder. "Rest easy. We were hired primarily for our job of exploration, but I assure you we were also given leave to deal with bandits and such that are plaguing the area." Producing the charter, she shows it to the woman. "As you can see, we are empowered as such. Though we were not informed specifically to deal with the bandits proper, we will, of course, carry out the orders."
Looking at the bowls she smiles warmly. "Rest your head easy, we will assist. Tell me, when do they come? Maybe we can prepare an ambush, or run them off at the very least."
Ankova looks sideways at Daen, Laliytsa and Maraia, just in case they had information that had been withheld from her, but doesn't sense any such withholding. "Look, I don't know anything about guards, and that's definitely not us, but maybe everything got lost in the shuffle? Restov has been rather quite busy lately with troop reassignments as they try to keep up a strong posture in case the Regent tries to do something about the political situation. I know that probably is no comfort to you out here on the frontier, and maybe you don't even care about the politics, but there's a good chance of war, so their priorities are... elsewhere. I do apologize for that."
She takes a seat at the table and has a sip of the wine before continuing, "Maraia has the right of it. We're obligated to assist you against bandits, and even if we're not the guards you requested, dead bandits cannot continue to harass you. I don't imagine you've been lucky enough to hear from those who do legitimate business here where these brigands are camped out, so we may need to stay put as guards in the interim, but then we're imposing upon you for food and shelter until they arrive. I don't mind paying good money for a stay at an inn, but the sooner we're on our way, the sooner this expedition will be complete and... ah... well." She gets a forlorn look in her eyes, gazing back the direction she came from, towards distant and unseen Restov.
Daen kept an impassive look upon his face during his companions' pleading and soothing words. If Oleg were the hot-headed sort, and it looked like he was, then such words should have good effect. Svetlana herself was probably getting used to such a position. Honestly, the man was lucky she was interested in sticking around.
One thing that did surprise him was Ankova's report concerning the political situation. He had not known the recent trouble was as steep as it seemed. Of course now that she said it, it all made more sense. The reason he'd been sent to train with the swordlords was because he was being a spy without his knowing. It seemed strange all of a sudden after his cold childhood that the family suddenly gave him such an opportunity. Now that the thought was in his head, he wondered if that is why he was put on this expedition, so they could keep tabs on things here and have legitimate reason to send emissaries to visit.
Of course, it was a bad time to bring such things up. He did his best to put the things out of his mind and pursue the object at hand. "And regardless of our duty, we'd also have several other reasons to destroy this ring of bandits. One, they would likely demand tribute from us as well, which would not be to our liking. Two, their demands are uncivilized and brutish, as they are not providing services equal to or in excess of their demands. And three, unseemly advances against married women make my blood boil."
At this last statement, Daen's impassive veneer cracked a bit to show his disgust of such men. "Such should be taught a lesson they should not forget, or serve as an example to others."
After the group had dismounted Laliytsa had gathered the reins of the other horses and lead them off to the stable without a word. While the group talks to Oleg and Svetlana she beds the horses down for the night. Like her grandfather told her; take care of your mount and they'll take care of you.
Laliytsa thinks as she works. Why weren't they told about the bandits in the area? If things were so bad at the trading post the Swordlords had to know about it, didn't they? They sent us to this trading post for a reason...is it so bad they thought we might balk at the job if we knew about the bandits? she thinks to herself.
She emerges from the stable in time to hear Daen's strong words. "I agree" she chimes in. With a small sigh she sits down at the table. "Make an example out of em and people'll think twice about being bandits." She gestures at the couple "What do you know about these bandits?"
Svetlana visibly relaxes, her shoulders softening as she hears you says you'll help. "Thank Cal-er, Ol' Deadeye!" She fills six bowls with steaming-hot stew and sets them out on the table. "Now, they've been coming for...three months now. The first time, in Kuthona of last year it was, it was on the first. There were-"
She's interrupted by the sound of a horse snorting and a strong, rich woman's voice, with a thick accent. "Olag, Svetalana! Et es good to see you again!" A tall, muscular woman with mousy-brown hair cut short leads in a grey mare with a stack of furs and hides on its back. "Es that stew I am smelling? I vell trade you deer pelt for bowl! Ha!" She strides up to Svetlana and wraps her in a huge bear-hug before sticking out a hand and shaking with Oleg. "Did guests come today, Svetalana? Or es et tomorrow?" She sits down in front of a bowl, leaning over to whisper in Daen's ear. "Has she said about her guests? You look soft to me. Her guests vell make you tough, like me, or they vell make you dead. Ha! Haha!"
"Gratia, these are explorers out of Restov. Ankova and the rest of you lot, this is Gratia Koenig. She's one of the hunters around the Stolen Lands. Maybe she can tell you more about what's out there than we can. There will be time to talk about the bandits later-OW!” Oleg leans forward to rub his shin as Svetlana shoots him a dirty look before starting to talk again.
”Yes, our guests. They usually show up on the first or second of each month, in the mornings. We prayed to Erastil that they’d be late this month, and it looks like they will be. What do you need to know?” Svetlana takes a sip of the wine, which is very dry, and looks at you expectantly. Gratia digs into her bowl of soup while Oleg unpacks her horse, inspecting the hides.
Maraia eyes the situation between the Levetons and this hunter woman.
Stepping closer once the huntress is within her sight, she smiles and gives a short bow. "Maraia Kaliur Revalizi Ponara Asa Li'ina at your service."
"Maraia Kalur Reva what? It does not matter, I think. The Stolen Lands vell decide if you are worthy of respect. I am Gratia Koenig, of Pitax, and I have survived for years." Gratia finds a glass of wine and drains it. "I know tales of what is out there. They could save life."
Ankova smiles at Svetlana's slip of the tongue, and muses that she must be a Calistrian who converted to her husband's faith, at least publicly. Turning her head to the source of the sudden disturbance, she is even more amused by Gratia's seemingly gregarious nature and forward attitude. Listening carefully to the exchange between Gratia and the Levetons, Ankova tries to place the odd accent while she fetches out her canteen to water down her wine a bit. As Maraia introduces herself, Ankova whispers to Daen, "If these... 'guests' come every month on the first or second, then they'll likely be here tomorrow morning. We shall have to rise nice and early to give them a proper welcome. I can mix up some Kindness if I have to, but cutting our wine with water might be best, hmm?"
She then turns her attention back to the rest of the table, especially Gratia, trying to recall what she knows of Pitax as she asks, "You hunt or trap in the Narlmarches?" She gestures at the large pile of furs Oleg is sorting through, "That looks like an impressive catch. Do you ever run into trouble with the fey? I've heard all sorts of rumors, but I can't tell if they're friend or foe or both at once."
Laliytsa perks up when Gratia enters. She looks over the pile of furs with a keen eye. "Nice haul" she says on the heel of Ankova's question. "Running lines solo takes skill. Does the wildlife give you any trouble?"
Looking at Gratia's haul, Maraia nods. "You may simply call me Maraia. As one who is prone to surviving on my own, perhaps we could discuss the wilds in more depths later. And I am interested in the Narlmarches as well. I know them by tale and the odd walk to them, but nothing else..."
Linguistics: The accent is strange, but some of the speech patterns are similar to those found among the Ioberian barbarian tribes.
Knowledge (geography): Pitax is a small kingdom in the north of the River Kingdoms. Its border with Mivon to the east and Numeria to the north have been in conflict for hundreds of years, and the city of Pitax sits on the Sellen River, allowing for some trade with the rest of the River Kingdoms.
Knowledge (nobility): The city of Pitax and the surrounding lands are both ruled by King Castruccio Irovetti, a warlord originally from Numeria. He's been displacing the former ruling-class there for several years, while at the same time bringing in mobs of artists and performers of every type. Also, I believe you get a specific question about Pitax's 'nobility'.
"Less the Narlmarches and more the Kamelands. Et es Easier to track elk there, and easier to avoid beasts and creatures. Ah, you ask about fey? Well, et es true that they are out there. Are they friend or foe? Hard to say. Very hard to say. I say wildlife more of a problem, most fey en north stop short of killing. Only bother you instead. Ha! Animals many more dangerous. Boars, wolves, bears. All vell kill you, et es better to avoid them. Worse are other people. Bandits, you vell hear about. But even they are not so bad. The crazy ones, they are worst. Watch for Breeg. He es trapper, and he traps everything. I lost horse to pitfall." Gratia scrapes a last couple spoonfuls of stew from the bowl, pours herself another glass of wine, and downs it. "I vell talk more later. Oleg! What es offer? I want to go to Restov, buy new bow. You vell offer enough?" She and Oleg stand and walk toward the house, leaving you with Svetlana.
"Now, how can I help you help us?" She gathers up the bowls and ceramic wineglasses, but makes no move to take them away. "Poor Oleg. He's so proud of his independence, and I know he would have done something, fought back somehow, but he's scared of what would happen to me. I want to help in whatever way I can. For his sake."
Maraia looks to Svetlana and shakes her head. "The best thing you can do for us, Lady Svetlana, is lay low when these bandits do show up. We will attack the bandits and deal with them as needed. Now, they should arrive tomorrow, yes? And in what direction do they come? About how long do they remain here?"
Ankova nods at Maraia's sentiment, following it up quickly by asking, "Can you barricade the door to the main house? Dispatching these ruffians avails us little if they manage to slit your throat in the chaos of battle. At least I don't expect us to have trouble on that front though, Daen here is exceptionally skilled with a blade. I have seen him duel and he is well on his way to becoming a Swordlord, even if he does have Issian blood in his veins." She grins over at Daen and quips, "Maybe if the bandits are lucky enough to scar you once or twice before you send them off to Pharasma, we can replace the lost blood with good Rostlandic wine and make a proper southerner of you?"
She winks playfully and then turns her attention back to Svetlana, "I suspect that gate of yours doesn't work, and they might get suspicious if they notice the earth has all been dug up to let the doors swing freely, so that means they might flee and warn their friends, and possibly come back in greater numbers. You don't want that, we don't want that, so any suggestions would be grand. Do they ride horses? If we can get them to dismount and then deny them their horses, riding down any escapees should be trivial."
"Yes, Maraia. At least, that's what they've done in the past. In Kuthona, they came on the first, in Abadius, the second, and last month, the first again. They came from the south. The first time it was twelve, led by a woman with a pair of axes and a man who kept an arrow knocked the whole time. She did the talking, and she terrified us both. She said she'd burn the Post down, kill Oleg, and take me to their camp." Svetlana stops for a moment, looking down and wringing her apron between her hands. "We prayed they wouldn't come back, but that next month, a half-dozen of them rode in through the snow. The one with the bow led them, and they didn't stay long. Last month, it was only him and four others. I think they're getting complacent, and why shouldn't they be? I can't fight them, and if Oleg tries, they'll do terrible things to me."
She bursts into tears, burying her face in her arms with her head on the table. "Don't j-j-joke about them c-cutting up your friend! They'll d-do it. O-Oleg might be able to t-t-tell you about them better than I can. Mu-mu-maybe he can show you around the tr-trading p-post, too."
Oleg and Gratia walk out of the house, a small sack exchanging hands. The two start moving armloads of furs and hides from Gratia's horse into Oleg's empty storage area. (A4 on the map)
Maraia sits and places a hand gently on Svetlana's shoulder. "Shh... It's fine now. No one is going to hurt you." She rubs the poor woman's shoulders and looks to the others.
"I'll stay here, you all find out anything you can from Oleg, please."
"I'm sure my family wouldn't mind having a bit less Issian blood in me as well." Daen quipped this before seeing Svetlana cry, trying to remove some of the tension with some dark humor, as well as take advantage of the verbal sparring of his comrade. Although, having seen enough tears to last a lifetime, he graciously bowed out when Maraia asked them to do so.
Outside, Daen jumped in and began helping moving furs, following along what Oleg and the funny trader lady. Although well versed in the wilds, she had no idea what kind of hardening he'd received in his lifetime. He had a resolute will that was surprising to many, and his work ethic was nothing to sniff at. So it did not take long for them to finish the work.
"It seems you've been making repairs about here" the swordsman said to Oleg. "If you can tell me what you've been doing, we can prepare for when your guests come tomorrow."
Laliytsa had chuckled at Ankova's joke, but seeing Svetlana's distress wiped the smile off her face. Giving the woman a concerned look she pushes herself to her feet and walks away from the table.
She eyes Daen as he helps Oleg and Gratia. Nobility could always talk smoother than ten of her. Between him and Ankova they'd get what they needed out of Oleg. Rather than be in the way she decides to look around the post, starting with the outside. Those catapults might serve as good cover for her. She walks out past the gate and starts looking around.
A number of things all seem to click at once in Ankova's head as her attempt at levity backfires. A different god, such fragile sensibilities, it's clear Svetlana is not from the frontier, probably grew up somewhere nice and safe without ever a bit of unwarranted violence. She bows to Svetlana deeply and says, "My apologies, I didn't intend to upset you so. I shall go speak with your husband instead." and then follows Daen over towards Oleg.
Her own work ethic is far less than Daen's, and she doesn't lend a hand, instead offering a second apology to Oleg, stating, "In attempting to interject some levity I have upset your wife, and I wish to apologize to you as well as her. I shall endeavor to compensate on the morrow."
After a few moments, Svetlana turns and wraps her arms around Maraia, crying into her shoulder. "I'm...I'm so sorry. It's been so difficult out here this last winter. I thought I'd toughened up enough since Restov, but Oleg hasn't been himself, with the bandits. Even when he's not worrying about them, there's less hunters in the area to trade with, and the Rostland Road isn't well-traveled. And then..." She touches her stomach and raises an eyebrow meaningfully. "I haven't told him yet because I'm scared of how he'll react, with how worried he's been about the bandits, but it won't be secret much longer."
As she leaves the fort through the gate, Laliytsa can see that each of the catapult platforms commands a good view of the surrounding plains. The grass outside of Oleg's is hip-high in places, providing a potential hiding-place as well. A walk around the fort reveals little of note. The South Rostland Road runs around the east, south, and west sides, but is little more than a track.
Together with Daen, Oleg and Gratia finish offloading the furs. "I hope you are keeping them this time, Oleg! I have miles to go ef I hope to reach Restov by the Fourth, and cannot stay the night. Farewell, good hunting!" Gratia mounts up and rides off to the east, back the way you came.
Oleg looks at Ankova for a moment and turns his head away. . "It's been tough for her, you know. Out here's a lot different than Restov, and what she has to do to survive out here's different than what she did before. Not tougher, but different. Besides, I haven't been able to treat her right, last few months."
"Now, Daen, was it? You were asking about improvements? I been meaning to work on the big doors. They came off their hinges early in winter and dug in tight. I asked for the tools I'd need, but your Swordlords couldn't even get that right! I've fixed the fighting-platform running behind the wall, though, and the guest-house roof shouldn't leak anymore." He hunkers down in the dirt. "If I'm right about tomorrow, it'll be Happs and a few of his friends. Happs is a piece of work. Leers at my 'lana, shoots arrows into my stable's wall, the works, but he's not that smart. I may be able to lure him inside the gates for you. If it's Kressle, I'm not sure what we can do. She'll come with more men, she's smarter than Happs, and she's mean as the Thylacines out there. She just about took off my hand with her axes, and she stole 'lana's wedding ring. We'd best hope it's Happs, eh?"
Ankova nods as Oleg confirms her suspicions about Svetlana, but says nothing. From his comments earlier, it is clear that Oleg has a problem with the very sort of civilization Svetlana is used to, making them an odd match, but she had no right to speak on such matters. "Probably for the best if we're not outnumbered, though an unexpected ambush should tilt things markedly in our favor. Are you sure Svetlana would approve of you luring them in though? Perhaps if we just left the door wide open with a view of these pelts, their greed will accomplish the same goal? They must know she's terrified of them, would it surprise them too much to find that you were hiding until they leave?"
Looking about the fort, she ponders out loud, "You must have lots of rusty old nails and other bits of metal lying about after repairing so much of the fort, right? Maybe we could improvise some caltrops, restrict their movement a bit, maybe keep them from running and warning this Kressle person if she doesn't show?"
As Svetlana's hand goes to her stomach, Maraia takes a moment to catch up on what she must be implying. Going a tad wide-eyed, her turquoise-colored eyes looks down at her tummy then up at her. Looking over at Oleg, she smiles and then pats Svetlana's shoulder.
"Once the bandits are dealt with, perhaps that would be a good time to inform him. How far along are you?"
Having looked over the outside, Laliytsa starts walking back to the gate. She waves at Gratia as the two pass each other. Stopping to watch the experienced hunter go her face pulls into a frown. She'd been hoping Gratia would stay and help with the bandits.
Laliytsa begins to pace as she thinks. Not enough time to dig pit traps. Grass tall enough to hide an ambush, but that worked for both sides. And they needed to catch all the bandits or they'd run off and warn the rest.
Still deep in thought, she turns on her heel and starts walking along the inner wall. She looks over the trading post, trying find good hiding spots for ambushers.
"Svetlana will understand. I've gone too long without raising so much as a hand, and I will do something to get rid of 'em now I've got the chance. I may not be a Swordlord or one of those northern nobles, but I can help defend my home! " Oleg looks at his hands. "I'm not much for fighting, but there's plenty of scrap from my rebuilding. We keep it out back, up against the wall by the midden pits. If you show me what you want, I can make 'em." He leads Daen and Ankova back to the middens (A5), where a sizable pile of half-rotten boards and logs, rusty bits of metal, and even a lengthy bit of chain si. There's also an odor of composting plants, though in the late winter cold, it's faint.
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"I'm not sure. I've only suspected for about a month. Where I worked at in Restov before I married Oleg, there were a lot of pregnancies, so I'd guess...eight, maybe ten weeks? Not long enough to start showing, at least. And you're right. When you beat these thugs tomorrow, I'll tell him the good news." Svetlana smiles through her tears, brushes a few strands of hair out of her face, and goes into the house, carrying off an armload of ceramic bowls and glasses.
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Walking back through the gates, Laliytsa looks at her options for an ambush. The best hiding place looks to be inside the barn, although the narrow alleyway between the bunkhouse (A2) and the fortress wall could provide concealment from an unwary enemy. The wagon’s wheel-rims are buried in mud, but it could be moved with a little work. It’s quite heavy, though, so it could take some time to get moving.
Maraia smiles warmly and gives her shoulder a soft squeeze. She must have been Calistrian. Hopefully it is Oleg's child.
"And we will beat them, Svetlana, I promise."
"You will help us. I've no presumptions of glory." Daen fingered the chain, testing it for length. "Just this would deter an unskilled rider if brought to the proper height. If we can get them all in the gate, we could hide this well enough to at least slow down escape."
Stepping outside the middens, Daen took a look at the wall and kept talking, half to himself and half to Oleg and Ankova if they follow. "There are a couple of points where your walls have enough good wood for a person to sit up there with a crossbow. Your wife can handle that along with one or two of our own for support. Are there stairs or ladders for the wall? Ladders can be pulled up for extra defense, which would be nice for our support. We'll also want people up there for scouting when they are coming and to hit any who flee so they won't warn their fellows."
He walked toward the gate with the chain, trying to judge the proper height and seeing if there are reasonable places to anchor and hide the chain from view so they can trap them in. "Some horses might even duck under the chain and sweep off the rider, which would also work in our favor. In any case, we should round up our troops and discuss our plan. The better prepared we are for their arrival, the greater chance we'll have for a swift and proper victory."
Maraia stands up, patting Svetlana on the shoulder. "I'm going to tend to my horse. Please, if you feel the need to talk, come by and talk."
Heading to the stables, Maraia approaches her horse Shatria (Sun Dancer) and begins to pat her down, bringing forth the dandy brush.
"Dyna ni, merch. Neis ac yn hawdd."
Laliytsa rejoins the group by the gate. "Couple places here we could use for an ambush. Way I figure it, we need to get em inside and close em in some how, make sure nobody gets away."She taps fingers against her chest as she thinks. "Traps maybe, but it'd be easiest if we could get the gates closed. Um, I can keep watch from up top, use m'bow to pick off runners."
Turning her gaze to Oleg she looks the man up and down. " And, uh, pardon me for sayin so, but you and Svetlana don't seem like fighter types. And soon as we take out the bandits here the rest of the pack is gonna come sniffing around lookin for em." She continues to stare at Oleg, brow furrowing as she thinks. "Is there someplace safe the two of you can hole up while we fight?"
"No...No, you're right." Oleg's face flushes in embarrassment. "I'll help much as I can tonight, but it'd be best if Svetlana and I stayed out of the way tomorrow. I can lure them through the gate, but when you start fighting 'em, I'm going to duck into the stables if I can. If one of you has a crossbow they can lend me, that'll be of use. As for 'lana, I'll barricade her into the house come morning. "
Oleg turns his gaze toward Daen. "Aye, ladders. Got two, but they're fixed to the walls. As for scouting, they're not big on field-craft; not like Gratia is, anyways. You'll hear 'em coming, and see 'em if you have a body on the wall looking south. You're welcome to try moving the gates, but I haven't had any luck at it." Daen's chain goes from one end of the gate to the other, with just enough left over to hang on a couple of rusty foot-long spikes found in the scrap pile.
"If you need any help out here, I'll be about."
"Laliytsa, the best option is to backtrack their trail and hit the others at their camp in surprise. Can you follow their trail back to their camp? If we break their backs immediately, they'll not be so likely to hit this place again. Ideally, the guards they requested will be along as well, but if we cut off the head, the trading post can do business as usual."
Daen turned to Oleg and scoffed a little. "Really? You're all talk? I'm a bit disappointed. Moreso that you don't trade weapons here, because we might be in more need of some, but also when I think of that last trader that came in thought I was soft, I wonder what she thinks of you." At least, that's what he thought of saying.
Perhaps he could be put to some other kind of use. He shook the contempt out of his head and focused on being more practical. "Being able to use the gates would be best. Perhaps we could see if we could at least jury-rig something up here to trap them and then hit them from several sides. If there were some heavy bags, like grain, it would definitely deter anyone going up those ladders, but they'd only be useful if we had someone up there. Training with the swordlords left me weak at range, so I'll stay down here, but it would be definitely useful to have someone hitting them from above as well."
Laliytsa sees Daen scoff. Her eyes narrow and she frowns. She likes Oleg; anybody that can make a living out here is worthy of her respect.
Clearing her throat she beings to talk slowly. "Don't apologize Oleg. Knowin' your limits and sticking to 'em, that's good. People who don't know how to fight but push themselves into battle, they get other people killed tryin' to cover em. You're offerin' to lure em in even though that puts you in the line of fire, an' I can respect that."
She turns her gaze to Daen. "We're gettin' ahead of ourselves with this. But. Yes, I can track 'em. Probably. I'm a good tracker, or I wouldn't be here. But. I'd want everyone to agree on that plan before we do it, an' I do mean everyone." She gestures at Oleg. When she starts talking again she holds up a finger for every point she makes. "I ain't made of magic. I could lose the trail. Bandits might be smart enough not to leave clear tracks. Could rain and wash tracks away. We could head out there an' run into boars, thylacines, fey shootin' magic out their ass I don't know and then we're makin' enough rukus that bandits are ambushin' us instead. Or maybe the bandits aren't all in one group and while we're fightin' one bunch another bunch comes here an'.... Her voice trails off and she looks lost for a second. She takes a deep breath to steady herself.
"I damn sure hate a situation where the consequences of my failure fall on someone else's head, not mine. If everybody wants us to march right out after takin' care of the first group I'll be fine with it. But I am gonna say there's merits to stayin' here. More time to heal wounds, set traps, set up the battlefield to our advantage. I'd rather they're dealin' with our fortifications than us tryin' to ambush 'em in theirs."
"Let's worry about dealing with however many guests show up tomorrow and then we can worry about how to deal with the others later. Maybe one will surrender and give up the others for leniency, and we won't even need to follow their tracks. Maybe they'll all show up and there won't be any need to find the others. Who knows." Ankova shrugs and then considers the towers, "I don't think there's much advantage to anyone except Laliytsa taking a position up there. She's got a bow and I assume she's skilled with it, but I've only got my sword and a dagger, I think Daen only has a dagger, and Maraia... well, her eyesight wouldn't be very helpful, though maybe she should still keep to one of the towers anyway?"
She gathers up a few nails, bending them against each other two at a time until they form tetrahedron shapes, one end always sticking up. "Not quite as good as proper ones, but if we make enough and scatter them in places we don't want them going, that should slow them down, give Laliytsa a chance to line up a good shot or two. Just be careful we don't walk over them, because half a nail through your foot won't be pleasant."