Hmmm. We will need someone who understands giant to decipher the map. This treasure will be most welcome.
Finnegan doesn't understand anything on the map, but he understands wealth. "Well, well. Where did the trolls accumulate this from?"
Alexander shrugs, We've received complaints. Perhaps random travelers. He looks over the maps, Eduard? Can you understand it? Or have a spell handy?
Eduard takes a moment to look through his spellbook, I'll take care of it.
Eduard will spend a standard action and a point of arcane reservoir to replace Color Spray with Comprehend Languages and then cast Comprehend Languages.
It appears that these trolls have been attacking with great coordination. But they are avoiding the Fey lands specifically.
No doubt they don't have proper cold iron stores to fight them. With their king dead, I suppose they will disperse into smaller bands
Well shall we head back home to think more on how to deal with any roaming troll bands? Perhaps this place can be gifted to one of our allies that likes caves and ruined castles.
Alexander, Agreed. Let's head back. We can have some soldiers finish cleaning this place up for use.
"Might it be that these trolls were somehow allied with fey, and leaving their allies unmolested? Granted it would seem a most unusual move for such...creatures."
Having eradicated the threat of the Trolls, your group rides back to town to deliver the good news to your subjects.
As the buildings of Voronakholm come into view, so does the din of loud and angry voices along with the clattering of metal weapons and armor. Moving forward reveals a small contingent of armed men gathered outside the limits of the city numbering around thirty. It's a rough and ragtag-looking bunch, with mismatched armor and weapons which give off a mercenary vibe. They seem to be growing bored and irritated, many of the men shooting scowls towards the city while others hone their weapons or sit and stare off into the distance disinterestedly.
At the front of the rough-looking group, pointing at and arguing with soldiers within the city, is a large broad-shouldered man wearing a suit of undecorated but well-kept full plate. He has close-cropped brown hair and hard brown eyes, and frown lines that look like they've been chiseled out of stone. Faint scars cross over his exposed skin, most notably a large one crossing above his left eye. A large curved sword sits on his back, and his belt bristles with various other malicious-looking weapons.
"I told you, I don't give a damn!" The man yells at the soldiers in Voronakholm. "I am willing to keep my men outside of your city, but I will not have them make this entire trek again across your gods-forsaken wilderness just because it's inconvenient that your leaders are gone! We aren't going anywhere!" He says with a hard look, daring the soldiers to come out and try to make them leave.
The tall man rides up on his horse, eyeing the situation warily. And, if we're being honest, a bit wearily. He waves a hand lazily, brushing off the dust of the road from his vest with casual magic. Finally, after watching the display for only a moment, the man nods curtly and guides his mount forward. What's the meaning of this? What's the problem here, he calls out. It is not a shout, but the deep sound of the man's voice carries. He is obviously used to calling out orders in the chaos of battle. Entirely too calm, one of the man's hands rests idly with a thumb tucked into his swordbelt.
Seems too nice a day for all this yelling. His smirk is arrogant and confident, but not unfriendly.
A slight woman rides with the group, she is armed and armored but certainly seems unremarkable considering her companions. Looking at the noisy group before the gate, she sighs. Looks like we'll have one more problem to solve before we can have a hot bath.
The Tiefling man - who looks like nothing so much as a devil - sighs and pulls a bowstaff out and strings it, testing the bowstring and studying the armed man arguing with their guards. He also picks out one who looks like a second in command, just in case.
”Hopefully we can solve this quickly. I’d really like to put my feet up with an ale.”
As the group rides up the armored men rouse to attention, turning to face them with a cascade of clattering metal and more than a few scowls. The large man who was shouting at the city guard turns, frowning. His eyes scan over the group for a moment, then he raises a gauntlet with a closed fist; some sort of signal to his men. That's a hell of a commanding voice. "I'm looking for the leader of this new nation that's been carved out in the Stolen Lands." He stands still, weapons undrawn.
Alexander chuckles and and tilts his head to take a closer look at this leader of soldiers, Well, sir. You have found them. He looks over toward the town guards for a moment and gives a reassuring nod, as if to say, 'we've got this', and turns his gaze back to the commander. What is it you want from us? Again, the tone is friendly an confident.
Marcus watches the man closely as takes command of the situation. They're either very powerful, very stupid, or very confident. He glances at the others waiting for the speaking man to handle the situation. I don't think they're stupid.
"Work." He says simply. "Little while back word came to us that you were looking for strong fighters to make a contingent of men called 'The Raven's Guard'. At the time I turned it down, thought coming out was too much of a gamble. But you're establishing a new kingdom now, and a new kingdom needs armed men to keep the peace." He gestures at the mercenaries behind him. "We're all sick of inconsistent work. Thought we may settle down and look for something more long-term. So I'd like to strike a contract."
Trailing behind he other lords (and lady), Othniel makes some small effort to look a nonchalant fellow traveler, circling away from the other nobles.
Work? Alexander shrugs, We're always looking for more soldiers. The smile does not leave the man's face, but his yes become hard. However, joining the Raven's Guard is no easy task. I suppose we shall see if you and your...strong fighters...are up to the task.
He nods over their head at the gate guards. Let them in! Send a runner to the castle. Have some of the Guard meet us there, he turns back to the commander, and we can discuss this contract.
The tall man dismounts and approaches with a hand outstretched. I am Alexander Orlovsky, Lord of Stanimir. Welcome to Varonakholm, Sir...
Andrea's eyes narrow, trying to ascertain the truth of the man's words.
Work? Alexander shrugs, We're always looking for more soldiers.
At this statement a lot of the men nod in agreement, a few showing their teeth with happy grins.
The large armored man grunts with a nod. "Put 'em through what you see fit. If they aren't fit to serve I'll kick 'em out myself."
The tall man dismounts and approaches with a hand outstretched. I am Alexander Orlovsky, Lord of Stanimir. Welcome to Varonakholm, Sir...
"Marcus. The Dog." He clasps Alexander's hand with his own, giving a strong handshake. "You'll find no man more true to his word. Never broken a contract. Under any circumstance." He looks at the city, watching the soldiers move to get the preparations made. "Alright, let's go talk over the details. My men will wait here if you want, but it's been a hell of a trek across this gods-forsaken wilderness and I'm sure they're eager to spend their coin on drinks and hot food."
As Andrea assesses the man she doesn't seem to find any hints of dishonesty. If anything the man seems incredibly blunt and to the point.
Seeing the situation peacefully resolved Finnegan stretches and un-strings his bow. Guiding his horse forward, he dismounts and extends a hand. "Finnegan Rook. Pleasure."
Marcus clasps Finnegan's hand, giving it a strong shake. Behind him the armed men start shifting, the more aggressive ones putting their weapons away and the more placid ones standing and stretching in anticipation of moving.
Andrea. Counselor to Alexander Orlovsky. I will get to work on a contract right away.
Alexander looks around at the man's soldier and chuckles, Nonsense. Come, we've just returned ourselves and need to eat. We'll speak over food. Your warriors can eat with the soldiers. He waves towards the guards to open the gates.
The men give grunts of approval and nods, a few more grins splitting across their faces. Marcus exhales sharply with a nod; likely the closest the man ever gets to smiling. With a sharp gesture from Marcus the men begin falling into line. He turns to face them. "Listen up! You are guests, act accordingly! You can drink, you can eat, you can gamble, but keep your fists to yourself and your pants up!" The men give a chorus of chuckles and nods. "Alright, if I hear otherwise you'll answer to me." With another gesture they are dismissed and begin moving into the city. Marcus nods to Alexander, gesturing to lead on.
Othniel rides up, nonchalantly integrating himself with the group now that he knows the newcomer is no threat. Coming alongside him, he nods. "Othniel. I see to the enforcement of Lord Orlovsky's laws. It is good that your men are a disciplined lot."
Marcus nods to Othniel as they walk into the city. Lord Orlovsky. I wonder, in another life... "Good, laws are the only thing that keep the animals at bay. Outside and within city walls. That's why I'm here. Laws need strong and disciplined men to enforce them." Marcus glances at his men. "Not all men are inclined to discipline. You have to show them it is a worthwhile goal. Punish those who deviate, but reward those who toe the line. It's important to have both. Essential."
When Andrea gets back to her offices, she begins drafting a contract for Marcus and his followers and sends a copy to Alexander and the others to examine and make suggestions.
Alexander looks around at the gathered Lords. We have tamed most of these lands and fought off this troll threat. Perhaps it is time to see to the people. Lord Garess has graciously accepted the appointment of Mayor and we need a new General for our army. The tall man looks toward Marcus. You have integrated your men into the army well and have proven to be an exceptional judge of talent and skill. Sir Marcus, will you lead the army of Stanimir?
There is also the matter of the treasure we returned with, as usual. Lord Oleg, clear out what is not needed and distribute it. He pauses, Wait, before that, Sir Marcus, feel free to look through what we've found and take what you wish.
The man frowns as he finishes, There is also the matter of the cult. Councilor, have you learned anything more about the woman who escaped?
Marcus nods, although his perpetual frown makes it look like he could have just as easily been given a job to clean latrines as promoted to the highest position in the military; just another job to get done.
But when Alexander opens the groups coffers to him he does raise his brows in surprise. Generous...I have heard they can be harsh rulers, but apparently they reward those who do well for them. A very good trait. "Your generosity is appreciated. I'll try to be conservative...might need help identifying some of the magic equipment."
"Cult? You have a cult?" His frown lines deepen. "What is the nature of this cult?"
~~~~~~~~Marcus's Promotion to General~~~~~~~~
Marcus makes a point to gather as much of the army as possible for a public announcement. There still needs to be men posted at guard posts and other necessary jobs, but otherwise he resolutely insists everybody else gather, late in the evening near the mess hall. Once it seems like most of the men are there Marcus clears his throat, stepping up onto a table and then projects out in a commanding voice. "Attention!" He waits for the noise to settle down. "Some of you may have heard there's a change in leadership! Well you heard right, Lord Garess is now mayor Garess and I'm in charge! Name's Marcus the Dog, you can call me Sir! Some of you already know how I run things, but most of you don't. We'll get everything whipped into shape in the next couple of weeks. But let me be perfectly clear: You will get what you give! If you give me s!!%, you'll get it back! If you work your dicks into the dirt, you'll be rewarded! You get me!" He shouts. After a response he nods with a grunt. "Alright than! If this transition goes smoothly, there will be a feast with more beer than you can drink!" He lets the noise swell a moment then quells it. "If this goes smoothly, you'll get what you give! Back to your business!" Marcus steps down from the table, then grabs some food and sits down with his new men to eat.
Andrea works with her spymaster to moniter any midwives and possible connections to the cult.
It seems we have things well in hand right now. The trolls and cult disposed of and the kindgom is expanding quite well.
This is all going to explode in our faces isn't it?
Alexander chuckles, Now, why would you go and say something like that?
"Just tell me where the explosion is coming from and I'll beat it back down." Marcus says with a hint of amusement.
You may very well get your chance. This quiet time is a good chance to strengthen ourselves. SO what else is on the agenda?
Your settlements have weathered the winter months without incident and have begin the spring planting and harvests, though the farmers complain of some kind of pests making forays into their fields.
Trade within your settlements has been going well and tradesmen have made both your settlements regular stops along their routes. You and your people have access to most comforts and items that can be found in the larger cities of Brevoy with the added benefit of currently boasting a lower crime rate.
On this current day, you are all gathered in your council chamber (including NPC council members) and are going over the petitions and notes of current events.
There are a few trade requests from various merchants and tradesmen in Brevoy. One merchant has a request for lumber, one craftsman inquiring about any valuable metals that have been mined and one inquiring about furs and pelts.
There is a petition from someone claiming to be a priestess of Naderi wanting to build a small temple to her goddess along the Shrike River.
Both the Mites and Kobolds have petitions to expand the underground portion of their territories.
A young human man is in the waiting room outside the council chamber, the petition brought from him is a request for assistance in the name of Jamandi Aldori.
Alexander sighs and sits in a simple wooden throne. Send them in, he says, as he waves his hand. One at a time though...let's not start any wars here. The tall man chuckles, Maybe the Mites and Kobolds at the same time. That could at least make the day interesting.
Marcus grunts, shifting through military paperwork; he had been spending his recent time trying to get some semblance of organization trackable through writing. The nation was quickly growing too large to be reliant on only interpersonal relationships.
He nods to sending in everybody one by one. In all likelihood these were economic decisions that he probably wouldn't weigh in on, but it's important nonetheless to learn more about the state of the nation.
Andrea jots down her note son the endless meetings of the day and shifts in her seat. She was in dire need of a walk and was considering retiring for a few hours when she heard the name Naderi mentained.
Well this is interesting, perhaps I can connect with her and help bring her closer to the fold. Andrea shuffles the schedule around to she can get into the chamber earlier.
Seeing as how the Mites and Kobolds have the same petitions, it does save a little time to see them both at the same time.
Both do recite the same request, stating they need to dig more burrows to accommodate new additions to their populations, more exploratory tunnels to search for food and other items of interest. Both races state strong preferences for expanding outward in any direction except downwards. One of the few things they can agree upon is that neither of them wish to expand downwards. Apparently both have concerns about disturbing anything that might reside in the depths of the earth.
Marcus eyes the mites and kobolds with his flat, dead stare. Weird allies to have. Or subordinates, I suppose. "Where are their tunnels currently located? Should there be concern about undermining buildings or natural resources?" He asks the rest of those at the table.
Finnegan was starting to get bored. The past six months had been good, no question, but he wanted to roam a bit. He'd hoped that the complaints coming in of some kind of pest getting in the fields would get him out of the capital, but it looked like that wasn't going to happen now. The trade requests would bring in more money, at least, and having the mites and kobolds show up at the same time was always worth a laugh.
Consulting the maps at Marcus' question, he says, "The Sootscale Caverns are along the Shrike River, and the Mite Caves are a few miles north of them. There shouldn't be any concerns about undermining buildings, althought Nettle's Crossing is directly to the Sootscale clan's east." Looking up, he says, "Regardless, I don't think the Mites should expand South, nor should the Sootscales expand North, else they might run into each other."
Alexander nods as Finnegan speaks, Agreed, Mr. Rook. He waves to the two groups, Send us your proposed digging plans and we will approve them. There are farms in those hills, and you will be considerate of those people, he says as a statement rather than a request.
There is quite a bit of grumbling, each in their own language, about having to be considerate of people and each other instead of simply killing people to take what they need, but each of their representatives agrees to comply with your request(statement).
Next up comes those asking for trade agreements. All three seem fairly standard and straight-forward. Though I am sure some haggling will be done regarding the price arrangements.
After them is the young lady claiming to be a cleric of Naderi wishing to build a small temple and or shrine along the banks of the Shrike River to honor her goddess. Ideally she would like it somewhere within a days walk of a settlement and in an area that has been cleared of hazards.
I believe we should make this priestess welcome and accommodate her. It is so nice to have one devoted to love have a shrine here and I am sure we can make it safe for her.
Alexander chuckles, We seek to create a community where you feel safe worshiping whichever god you please. You are welcome to build your temple. With a smile, he continues, I'm told there are quite a few romantic operas based upon the teachings of your church. Perhaps we will see more of them in the local theater?
"What does this Aldori want? The swordlords are too pompous to ask for help lightly." Othniel says to the others when they get a moment free of petitioners.