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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 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.
Each of you have held a copy of this charter for many days. For reasons each player has, they are heading to Oleg's trading post.
The day you all arrive is a fair day, cool sun in the early spring, as you can hear the sounds of the forest. Off in the distance, you can see a small plume of smoke, coming from what would probably be a firepit or fireplace, and you can see coming up a sizable wooden palisade, surrounding what is on the horizon the reputed Oleg's trading post.
You notice that it is a rather small thing for a post, cresting the hill and coming down it has only a handful of buildings, but even at this distance, it looks like home. As you come within a mile of the place, a fresh and tasty aroma can be smelled. The smell of a soup or stew of some kind cooking in the distance.
Cuddles comes over the hill with a sheen of good, hard earned sweat on his brow. A kindly old man walks beside him and an old cart full of trade goods squeaks behind. The two walk in silence. There was nothing left to say. All possible avenues of conversation had been exhausted pretty quickly. Cuddles was not the world's greatest conversationalist. Turns out, neither was the old man. So the two walked, perfectly content to spend the miles in peace.
A mile out, the smell of hot food makes Cuddles' stomach growl. CUDDLES HURRY NOW, OK? the giant orc asks. He is a green-skinned monster standing at well over seven feet and weighing over 330 pounds. His clothes are poor and travel worn. On his right wrist a colorful cloth is carefully tied. He has a large burlap sack over his shoulder that has had a pair of straps fastened to it that looks like it serves as his backpack. Leather straps from the cart's hitching hang over his shoulder.
C'MON HORSIE! He calls, and starts to trot, pulling close to a thousand pounds behind him. His muscles bulge with effort at every obstacle, but Cuddles just smiles. This is the one thing in life he was good at. Well, that and hugs. Physical labor always made him happy, no matter what it was.
The man hurries to keep up. He leads his horse who trots along behind his master with bandages wrapped around it's nose where bandits had injured it while trying to make off with everything. Cuddles had come to the rescue and scared the bandits off. Nearly gave the old man a heart attack. Thankfully, he was no threat to Cuddles bulk, so Cuddles had time to talk to the man and convince him to back down. The horse was skittish in the bridle from the pain of its injuries, so Cuddles offered to pull the cart. And he did, to the shock of everyone they have encountered so far.
He pulls into the trading post with a veritable chorus of odd looks and whispers. He sets his load down and accepts the payment agreed, a large leg of lamb. Cuddles' crooked grin never leaves his face as he accepts the payment and wanders the Trading post, looking for Lucy, or his next adventure, whichever came first.
It had been a few hours since Leandric had parted with the caravan as they veered off further west while he had to continue south. They had tried to discourage him as someone looking as he did and going on foot was sure to draw attention. He simply smiled, thanked them for their concern but assured them there would be problems and that he'd be fine.
His words had been partially true. There had been a single bandit trying to attack him at some point but a simply cantrip had been enough to get him rid of him long enough for Leandric's summoned mount to get far away from the thug. It was good that the man had been alone though, more could have proved an issue.
With the palisades in sight Leandric and his mount parted way as the horse trailed away into mist after one last scratch behind the ears. With that out of the way he simply walked towards the outpost, curious whether or not a place like this would have it's gates opened or closed. It would tell a bit about the area.
Anton struggles up the hill, his thin shoulders barely bearing the weight of his pack. The fresh air was good for his lungs, yet still they wheeze under the physical exertion. It was a marvel he'd made it here at all, he thinks in bewilderment.
He shifts the weight of the pack, heading down the hill. At least this was easier. His knees almost buckle once or twice, but he finally makes it to the outpost, leaning against a wall with relief. He fumbles in the pocket of his coat for his charter, squinting at it in the afternoon light - "Perhaps I should find this Oleg," he mutters, aware of the fact that he was talking to himself.
Shouldering hsi belongings again, he starts to walk around, when the coughing fit siezes him. Doubling over and stumbling, he bumps into a wall - at least, he thinks it's a wall, until he looks up, finding himself staring at seven feet of thick, green skin and rippling muscle.
An orc? Here?!
Fumbling for the words, he chokes out, "Uh, begging your pardon, s-sir..." And that's as far as his tongue allows before the shock hits him.
Katya muttered to herself as she trudged down the road toward what she hoped was the right place.
'Right of exploration and travel', they said. 'Strive against banditry', they said. 'Greater good', they said.
She continued to put one foot in front of the other. The trip from Restov had been a long one--the first time she'd ever been out on her own. She'd hired on as a guard with a caravan making its way from New Stetven to Restov, but by the time she'd bought the things she figured she'd need in the Greenbelt from the markets in Restov, she didn't have enough money for a horse. The few remaining crowns in her pockets jingled mournfully.
What was worse was the fact that her rations had run out this morning. The hole in her middle gnawed away at her.
The first few days hadn't been so bad. Two days from Restov to the village of Nivakta's Crossing, then another two days to Fort Serenko. At the village she'd spent a day helping a farmer plant potatoes, in return for food and lodging in the hay loft. And at the Fort she'd bargained her way into a spot inside after she discovered one of the officers had served with her watch commander back in New Stetven. They had swapped stories for a few hours before she retired for the night.
Yeah, the first few days had been easy. A day on the road, a fitful sleep in her bedroll under a bush, and then a night in comfort with others to keep her company.
Now it was mid-afternoon, and she was hoping to find Oleg's over the next hill, or she was going to have to face another night in the wilderness with the prospect of having to go a whole day without food. The thought bothered her so much that she stopped in the middle of the road.
Don't panic, she reminded herself. She closed her eyes and tried to even out her breathing. You never know. You might find someone who can help you out around the next corner...
She bit her lip, opened her eyes, and climbed the hill.
Later, Oleg would tell her that he'd heard her distant squeal of delight, although at the time, he'd put it down to one of the ever-present rats sneaking around in the attic.
###
A couple of hours later, she sat gratefully beside the hearth at Oleg's chewing eagerly on a lamb shank. She knew she didn't look very ladylike. She didn't care.
Across from her, a massive orc with a blissful grin was chewing on his own bone, although his was about eight times the size of hers. A thin man sat furtively in a corner, while another with one heck of a moustache lounged in an armchair.
Might as well get acquainted, she thought. She went to hold out a greasy hand--then thought better of it, and wiped it first on the hem of her shirt--and spoke up.
Katya Shokholhoff, she said, around her mouth full of food. She swallowed. From New Stetven. What's your name?
Cuddles hasn't walked very far before a terribly skinny man with a backpack bumps into him. He immidiately looses what little color he had in his cheeks and stammers an apology. Cuddles just smiles. NO WORRY, LITTLE MAN. He then notices the clutched paper in Little Man's hand. YOU FIND OLEG TOO! He scoops the frail man up in a huge, smothering hug. COME, FIND OLEG NOW
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Cuddles smiles at the girl with good table manners. A drop of blood runs down his chin when he smiles back and envelops her strong hand in his. CUDDLES. He hadn't decided what to call this girl yet. Skinny Man was easy to name. This girl looked like a hungry Orc trapped in a fair toned skin suit. Hmm.
He hasn't decided what to call the man in the chair either. Oh well they were all new friends, and that was enough for Cuddles. He continues chewing on his bone. The meat was mostly gone, so he puts it between his molars and cracks the bone with a single bite. Marrow was so tasty!
The wizard sits in his corner, spellbook propped open on one knee, his ribs still aching from the orc's immense grasp. It had been a hug... kind of... but far more crushing.
So the orc's name was Cuddles, then. He coughs into his handkerchief - nothing so violent this time around; the blazing fire and the warm stew seemed to be helping with that - and shakes Katya's hand. "Anton," he smiles, bowing his head slightly. His voice is thin and husky, his throat rubbed raw from the near-constant coughing fits. "A pleasure, Katya."
Katya retrieves her hand from the orc's grip, and massages it surreptitiously. She winces as he cracks the massive femur in half with his teeth.
Cuddles, huh? She resolves not to ask...at least, not yet. Do you live around here?
She takes another bite of her lamb, then turns to Anton.
Sho, Anton, what bringsh you to the Greenbelt?
Cuddles shakes his head as he widens the split bone and begins to scrape out the marrow. CUDDLES WALK ALL OVER.
"It's an honor miss. I am Leandric Garess, of House Garess, from Grayhaven." He makes as much of a bow as he can make from his seated position.
On his lap he has a spellbook, like Anton, but in his hands he holds a smaller journal in which he's writing. As he does he goes back and forth between his journal and his spellbook as if comparing things. If anyone was to peer over his shoulder he or she would find the notebook filled with arcane markings and calculations.
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As each of you has made it to the modest trading post, it is apparent that it has been in a state of repair for quite a while. The only entrance is the main gate, which gives way to a central courtyard, with a firepit and tables to the right, what looks to be a stable to your left. Beyond that ahead of you there are some grated pits, and from the smell coming from there, you could guess that is where the middens are located.
There is a small building that lies along the front wall, and a larger one nestled in behind the firepit and tables, And looks to be the main building. The doors are open, allowing access into the main building of the post. A small common room, is open while the rest of the doors are closed for now.
As you all have begun to settle in, a shorter but stout woman comes back through the gate, and over to the firepit carrying a large kettle and a basket. She looks up and seems a bit surprised to see people. "Goodness me, welcome everyone! Welcome to Oleg's. I'm Svetlana, Oleg's wife. Please, come out and sit around the fire. Its just after noon, and I was going to get the Moon Radish stew started for the evening. Everyone is welcome to share the fire and relax."
Svetlana busies herself working at the firepit, suspending the kettle on a frame, filling it with water and starting to cut and chop and dice various veggies, before making her way back into the main building to bring out a section of preserved meat to start and prepare it as well for the stew.
Cuddles finishes his bone and lumbers over to the fire. It's warm and cheery, reminding him of happier times. Soon, the stew sets his stomach to rumbling like far off thunder in spite of the fact that he just ate a whole lamb's leg.
Deadeye's Bow, why is it so... bright?
Cander awoke to the harsh mid-morning sun beating down on his face. He had awoken far later than his usual rising at dawn these past few days, due to a lack of his father's early-morning role calls and reveilles. Life on the road was boring, he thought. Beautiful, but boring. At least at home he'd have hot meals instead of this dull trail mix that his mother sent him off with. Nuts, berries, dried cereals? This was fare for rabbits, not a young man. What he wouldn't give for a sausage or stew.
He had not run into trouble on the road, and rightly so: he did not look like an easy target. Mounted on a steed, clad in armor, and armed to the teeth, Cander did not look like someone to be trifled with.
After breaking camp, Cander sets off. It's not long before the shape of a structure began to loom upon the horizon. By the time Svetlana had come to greet the motley crew at her fireside, he had reached the front gates of Oleg's Trading Post.
"Hello?' he called from atop his horse, "Is one of you Oleg? I'm here about the thing! Oh... hold on, where is it? I could have sworn I had it here... is it in my... no, not there... Here it is!"
Cander held his charter high above his head after pulling it from a saddlebag. "This thing! I'm here about the charter. Right. So is there an Oleg here?"
Katya makes her way to the fireside with the others.
Moon radishes? she asks Svetlana.
Are those the white ones, purple inside? I like those! You can keep the long red and white ones though. Katya makes a face that wouldn't look out of place on a four-year-old. They taste awful. But radishes don't keep very long, and I didn't see any farms on the way here. Where do you get your food supplies from?
###
By the time Cander arrives, Katya is sipping a mug of cocoa.
Oleg is inside, she says by way of reply. I'm Katya. This is Leandric, this is Anton, and this is...'Cuddles'.
She feels ridiculous calling a hulking orc 'Cuddles', but can't think of an alternative.
When in Egorian, she reminds herself, do as House Thrune does.
Cander is a bit taken aback by... Cuddles. He's never seen an orc before. Hell, he'd never seen a member of a non-human race before. All the stories he'd heard of orcs had been of marauding bands and evil warlord. "Cuddles" sounded like the opposite.
"Forgive my manners, I think arriving here got me a little over-excited. I am Cander Vitritch, son of Pavel Vitritch. It's a pleasure to meet all of you. I have been conscripted- wait, no, that's not the right word. I've been... contracted? Yes! Contracted to rid this area of banditry and unlawfulness. You all... you wouldn't happen to have gotten the same charter, would you?"
Hmmm. Cuddles might name this guy Talky Man. Most of his words cuddles didn't understand, but he was waving about the same piece of paper that cuddles had. Cuddles takes his copy from his pack-sack and shows it to him. MEAN THIS?
"You all... you wouldn't happen to have gotten the same charter, would you?"
Cuddles takes his copy from his pack-sack and shows it to him. MEAN THIS?
What, the orc has a charter as well? Katya swallows her cocoa.
I suspect we have, she says out loud. She fishes around in a scroll case for a moment and retrieves a similar piece of paper, holding it up as though still surprised by its contents.
So... Bandits? She directs a quizzical look at Svetlana. Got any around here? In... She takes a moment to locate the sun, heading toward the western horizon, before gesturing out of the gate through which Cander had just entered. ...that direction? And, for that matter, did you know a group of explorers was going to arrive today?
Anton raises an eyebrow at Cander, looking up briefly from his spellbook - from his position by the fire, but on his own. "It certainly looks that way," he answers, taking a sip from his waterskin. He runs his tongue briefly over his dry lips; the heat from the fire was cracking them terribly. He takes another drink, even as he flips to a page in his spellbook and shows his own charter.
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Svetlana busies herself by the fire, and a few minutes later a very well built man comes back through the gates, hauling an armload of firewood. He looks about at the group. "Welcome, welcome all of you. Name's Oleg. This is my trading post. Been a while since I have had more than a trapper or hunter here or there. Tell me, is it true? Did Restov finally send me my guards?"
Cuddles frowns. PAPER NOT SAY GUARD...
Leandric got up from his sear, closing his books, and walked over to the owners of the outpost. He extends a hand, first to Svetlana and then to Oleg, "Good day, my name is Leandric Garess and these are Katya, Anton, Cuddles and Cander. I would not say we are your guards, like my colleague aptly pointed out, but we are here to deal with the bandit issue."
"And hopefully solve the bandit issue." Cander added. He dismounts and comes to meet the couple face-to-face.
"I know we may not look like the people for the job, but I have a good feeling about this, Mr. Oleg. We're just what you need!"
Harsk followed the road. Steady and slow, it was the dwarven way. Not that his legs would let him move faster.
Some passed him. He didnt pay any mind. Instead his mind went back to his initiation and his orders.
Occasionally the priest would stop, pull his charter, look at the road, squint and just walk with a grumbling huff.
Hours. Days? The homestead on the horizon. Trudge, walk, steady, slow.
Approaching the entrance Harsk pulled his hammer, resting the head in his other.hand. Feet planted.shoulder width apart the dwarf intones, "in the name of Torag, father of the forge, i ask for lodging and to present my charter!
The dwarf winced at his words. Probably too formal...i should probably tone it down a bit...
-Posted with Wayfinder
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Oleg looks at them all, a bit disheartened. He gathers his things together as he looks them over. "Ah, I see. Just travelling on your way through. Then may I ask your indulgence for a few moments all?"
Oleg moves over to one of the tables, taking a seat and motioning for the rest to gather around. "My wife and I have been the only traders out on the frontier here for a while now. Sort of a destination really. Last civilized outpost before..., the big green expanse of the Green belt. We do well enough. Trading to live, and enough to make a decent living on. Trappers, hunters and other woodsmen come through often enough and we get our news from them."
Oleg sighs, looking around at the group of them. "Up until about three months ago. Bandits starting coming and harassing us. Telling me that if I didn't hand over my trade goods, they would burn down my trading post, and abduct Svetlana. For their..., amusement." Oleg's hands start trembling, and he slams a fist on the table.
"Since then, they have been back twice, collecting their "taxes". First time, there was about..., oh I would say at least eight or ten. Maybe more. Had a couple with them, a cloaked man with a bow, and a woman carrying a pair of hatchets. He was a crude oaf, but she nearly took my hand off with one of those axes. Sharp eye, quick ear. She's dangerous."
Oleg sighs, nearly on the point of tears, looking to Svetlana. "I'm only one man, and The last two months, they have brought fewer men to collect, but they still are numerous enough I can't stop them. I requested guard from Restov, and I had gotten word that they were coming. But the bandits are due to come tomorrow morning. I assumed that was why you were here."
Cuddles rolls his great shoulders. A twist of his head produces a crack like the breaking of a tree limb and a rumble of thunder from his chest precedes, CUDDLES NOT LIKE MEAN PEOPLE.
"Er, "Cuddles" here has the right idea. The punishment for banditry is death, no matter how strict that sentence may seem. We are far from simple sellswords, sir. We are arbiters of justice. We will rid you of these bandits, sir, once and for all!"
Cander strikes what he considers to be a heroic pose: beaming brightly with his fist raised righteously toward the sky.
"Er, "Cuddles" here has the right idea. The punishment for banditry is death, no matter how strict that sentence may seem. We are far from simple sellswords, sir. We are arbiters of justice. We will rid you of these bandits, sir, once and for all!"
Hmm.
Katya quickly scans her copy of the charter.
...right of exploration and travel...strive against banditry and other unlawful behaviour...punishment for unrepentant banditry...execution...
Without looking up at Cander, Katya raises a hand. Hold your horses... She looks up to see him standing 'heroically' next to his nonplussed horse, and has to stifle a giggle. I mean, horse. The charter says we are able to execute unrepentant bandits. Doesn't that mean we should at least try to talk to them first? After we subdue them, of course. Playing fair doesn't mean we have to play stupid.
She turns to Oleg and Svetlana. I can't speak for the others--we have yet to discuss what our charters actually mean--but I for one would be happy to ensure these bandits don't bother you again.
She looks around the compound. Is there a place we might use as a temporary prison, if we happen to capture any alive? And could we perhaps move a few things around to create some cover and give ourselves a better chance at surprising these low-lifes when they show up tomorrow?
"I could create a hole in the ground to stuff them in, just takes some time to set my mind to it. A fifteen foot deep pit should do the trick, right?" Leandric smiled. At least the woman seemed to have the idea straight. He was stuck with an otherwise odd bunch though: the simpleton man with his fists up in the air, the simpleton orc named Cuddles, a bookish guy that looked like he'd blow away in a stiff breeze and the redhead.
"I do not see the point of senseless slaughter either. They need to be punished, even if repentant, but they can redeem themselves by hard labour."
Cuddles grins at the mention of hard labor. CUDDLES KNOWS HARD LABOR GOOD! CUDDLES CAN DO BOSS FOR-MAN!
A pit would work, Katya says. In fact...
She puts her copy of the charter back in her scroll case and then makes her way over to the middens and...
...wrinkles her nose, but otherwise seems unaffected by the smell.
We could just use the middens, make them a bit deeper, and then put something heavy on top of the grate, if we have to.
She returns to the tables. But safety has to be our top priority. If they don't surrender, take them down. And if they threaten Oleg or Svetlana with violence, we'll have to be quick. Anyone have any objections?
Cuddles cracks his knuckles. His face bears a hint of the Orc blood running in his veins. This was not going to be pleasant for the bandits.
Anton looks around at the others. Everybody seemed to be jumping into action. He sighs, leafing hrough his spellbook, a tattered leather thing with ink blotches and tea stains on most pages. There was a spell, though, a simple burst that would knock a man out cold...
"Would we ambush them?" he asks, speaking up for the first time since Oleg appeared.
Cuddles nods. FAST IN. CRACK SKULL. FAST OUT. CUDDLES HIDE UNTIL TIME FOR NOT-NICE-HUGS
Katya purses her lips.
Yes, I think we'd want to ambush them if we can. There could be more of them than us, and if they're coming back over and over, they probably have a camp nearby of some description. If one of them gets away, they will bring a larger force. If they just don't come back, then the chances are better of us not having every bandit in the Greenbelt on Oleg's doorstep the next morning.
She looks over at the bookish Anton. Do you have something in mind? What spells do you have at your disposal?
"Easiest then would be to let them come in here while we stay hidden and then close the doors behind them so they are trapped. That way we can deal with them at our leisure."
Once the question about spells comes Leandric focuses on the spindly man. What was it that he had up his sleeve? There were many things one could do with the right skills and some magic he was just curious what this man was up to.
Feeling several pairs of eyes on him, Anton shifts his spellbook to rest on both thighs instead of one, flipping through with a frown. "Several," he says finally. "Most of them are simple things - little more than parlour tricks." He waves a hand dismissively, taking another sip of his waterskin and running a finger down one page. The arcane writings seem to glow under his fingertip, leaving trails of coloured light that flicker from existence after mere moments.
"These, however, are stronger." He taps the page with one hand, holding the other elbow to his mouth as he coughs again. "A protective ward. The ability to understand the nature of enchanted objects, and the potential to understand all languages. Abilities to cause a person to increase or decrease in size - with the appropriate changes in agility and physical strength. A spell to lubricate the ground, and this one..." He turns to a page, looking down at it with a slow nod. "This one creates a burst of dazzling colours - all that we are aware of, and some we cannot imagine. It can knock up to seven grown men out cold, provided they're in the right configuration, and leave them blind and reeling even after they recover. If we can position our bandits right, it could end any hostilities before they begin."
"The charter says we are able to execute unrepentant bandits. Doesn't that mean we should at least try to talk to them first? After we subdue them, of course. Playing fair doesn't mean we have to play stupid.
She turns to Oleg and Svetlana. I can't speak for the others--we have yet to discuss what our charters actually mean--but I for one would be happy to ensure these bandits don't bother you again.
She looks around the compound. Is there a place we might use as a temporary prison, if we happen to capture any alive? And could we perhaps move a few things around to create some cover and give ourselves a better chance at surprising these low-lifes when they show up tomorrow?
"Hmph! Extortion and threatened rape sound pretty unrepentant to me! I'm not anxious to kill anyone, though, and regardless, I think you may be right: we should let each bandit plead their case to make sure that some have not been coerced into this way of life. Let's do this in as fair a way possible."
But a surprise attack or trapping them... That doesn't sound honorable at all! he thought, if they outnumber us, though, it might actually even the playing field. I guess I'll go along with this plan... for now.
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Oleg sits and listens to the group as they talk. "Are you serious? Will you help us?" Oleg seems a bit astonished, and his eyes perk up.
"Look, if you are serious about this, then I must ask you to stay tonight. The bandits that come through here normally have made a point to stop in at dawn to collect their "taxes" and go. It would mean the world to me and my wife if you could be here to send them away. Or..., do whatever it is you plan on doing. Please, if you are willing to do this, the guest house is over here, you all are welcome to stay tonight. Svetlana is starting the stew for dinner. Please, you all are welcome to stay. It would mean so much to us if you would help us."
Cuddles reaches out and pats Oleg on the shoulder, doing his best to not dislocate it accidentally. NO WORRY. CUDDLES BE HERE. He says with an almost comic, but completely sincere, sympathetic smile.
Harsk stands for a few moments apparently unnoticed as the myriad folks move about mulling over plans, talking to the clear owner of the stead and in general just seem caught up in their work.
Harsk purses his lips for a moment and shrugs, Sorry Torag, I tried it the old fashioned way but that's not why you picked me anyway...
Harsk rehangs his hammer and walks into the stead, coming up on the group and noticing their differences. Takes all types I suppose but those Brevoy have an interesting sense of humor. An orc? Wispy humans? I expected more soldiers but I guess we will see.
Overhearing Oleg's last explantion on bandits and help Harsk chimes in loudly from outside the gathered group. Oh aye, I'm here to deal with bandits I'd happily pay their tax in hammer blows for ya come sunrise.
Harsk winces at the loudness of his baritone but offers a half wave and a smirk to anyone who turns to look at him.
Cuddles starts at the sudden appearance of a dwarf, but he quickly makes it clear that he's against the bandits too, so Cuddles breaks into a toothy grin.
Almost automatically Leandric switches to the Dwarven tongue upon seeing Harsk enter, "Good day master Dwarf. It is good to have one of the stout folk join us."
Almost distracted by the toothy grin of the orc Harsk shakes himself to attention as mustached human speaks at him in dwarven. With a slight shake of his head he focuses on the person talking to him and nods, replying in dwarven, Aye the Father of Creation has charged my order, and me in turn, to aid in the efforts of this land. A might hammer blow against the teeming wilderness... Harsk offers a sort of bobbing shrug as he lazily brings his fist into his open palm. You get the idea.
"These, however, are stronger." He taps the page with one hand, holding the other elbow to his mouth as he coughs again. "A protective ward. The ability to understand the nature of enchanted objects, and the potential to understand all languages. Abilities to cause a person to increase or decrease in size - with the appropriate changes in agility and physical strength. A spell to lubricate the ground, and this one..." He turns to a page, looking down at it with a slow nod. "This one creates a burst of dazzling colours - all that we are aware of, and some we cannot imagine. It can knock up to seven grown men out cold, provided they're in the right configuration, and leave them blind and reeling even after they recover. If we can position our bandits right, it could end any hostilities before they begin."
Katya goes to sit next to the wizard while he explains his capabilities. As he talks, she stares at the strange markings in his spellbook, as though willing them to make sense to her. They refuse to budge.
Well, that sounds like it could be just what we're looking for. Perhaps along with making Cuddles even larger... She looks the massive orc up and down for a moment. Then again, that might make him impossible to hide.
She turns to Oleg and Svetlana. How about it? This is your trading post, and your lives we're talking about. How do you feel about being in danger when these thugs come back in the morning?
"Hmph! Extortion and threatened rape sound pretty unrepentant to me! I'm not anxious to kill anyone, though, and regardless, I think you may be right: we should let each bandit plead their case to make sure that some have not been coerced into this way of life. Let's do this in as fair a way possible."
Oh, don't get me wrong, Katya says, I find their activities as horrifying as you do, and if they are unwilling to repent and become members of society then I'll happily wield the headsman's axe. But we do need to give them an opportunity to renounce their lives of banditry. A lot of people only turn to robbing others when times are bad for them personally. Some of them welcome an opportunity to leave that life and rejoin the rest of us, but others...
She trails off and stares into the middle distance for a moment, before putting one hand on her hip and pinching the bridge of her nose with her other hand.
Anyway, she says, eyes still closed, are we agreed that we'll try to ambush them in the morning, try to capture rather than kill, and that any that we do capture will be given a fair trial, to the best of our capabilities?
She opens her eyes and looks around expectantly.
"Look, if you are serious about this, then I must ask you to stay tonight. The bandits that come through here normally have made a point to stop in at dawn to collect their "taxes" and go. It would mean the world to me and my wife if you could be here to send them away. Or..., do whatever it is you plan on doing. Please, if you are willing to do this, the guest house is over here, you all are welcome to stay tonight. Svetlana is starting the stew for dinner. Please, you all are welcome to stay. It would mean so much to us if you would help us."
Katya smiles. I'd be happy to stay. I was already planning on it, in fact. But I insist on paying for my board and food. Helping you out doesn't excuse me from paying my fair share. It's expectations like those that get adventurers a bad name.
ᚷᛟᛟᛟ ᛟᛟᛟ ᛟᛟᛟᛟᛟᛟ ᛟᛟᛟᛟᛟ. ᛟᛟ ᛟᛟ ᛟᛟᛟᛟ ᛟᛟ ᛟᛟᛟᛟ ᛟᛟᛟ ᛟᛟ ᛟᛟᛟ ᛟᛟᛟᛟᛟ ᛟᛟᛟᛟ ᛟᛟᛟᛟ ᛟᛟ.
ᛟᛟᛟ ᛟᛟᛟ ᛟᛟᛟᛟᛟᛟ ᛟᛟ ᛟᛟᛟᛟᛟᛟᛟᛟ ᛟᛟᛟ ᛟᛟᛟᛟᛟᛟᛟ ᛟᛟ ᛟᛟᛟᛟᛟ, ᛟᛟᛟ ᛟᛟ ᛟᛟ ᛟᛟᛟᛟ, ᛟᛟ ᛟᛟᛟ ᛟᛟ ᛟᛟᛟ ᛟᛟᛟᛟᛟᛟᛟ ᛟᛟ ᛟᛟᛟᛟ ᛟᛟᛟᛟ. ᛟ ᛟᛟᛟᛟᛟᛟ ᛟᛟᛟᛟᛟᛟ ᛟᛟᛟᛟ ᛟᛟᛟᛟᛟᛟᛟ ᛟᛟᛟ ᛟᛟᛟᛟᛟᛟᛟ ᛟᛟᛟᛟᛟᛟᛟᛟᛟᛟ... ᛟᛟᛟ ᛟᛟᛟ ᛟᛟᛟ ᛟᛟᛟᛟ.
Confused, Katya looks from dwarf to human and back again.
Is that Dwarven? Can you teach me?
E mohio ana ahau ki te tahi mau reo.
De én mindig élvezik a tanulást.
ואני לומד מהר.
She looks around, somewhat sheepishly. Sorry, not many opportunities to practice other languages for a watch officer back in New Stetven.
Also, good day to you, Harsk, and welcome. Sorry I didn't see you there earlier. Will you come in and sit with us?
Harsk narrows his eyes at the friendly woman as she spouts languages but eases a bit and nods as she offers a place to sit in a clear clipped accent Harsk offers in his baritone voice, I can teach ye the language if its something you're desperate to know. Plenty of humans butcher it plenty, I'll teach you to speak it like you were runnin round the forge as a tot.
Sitting Harsk pulls a pouch of shredded roots and puts a small ball of it in his mouth. Starting to chew it there is a clear wet red liquid that can be seen peeking from the corners of the dwarf's mouth as he shifts the mass about in his mouth. The priest seems unconcerned with any issue of seeming impolite in not offering or in softly chewing while others talk.
Oh, don't get me wrong, Katya says, I find their activities as horrifying as you do, and if they are unwilling to repent and become members of society then I'll happily wield the headsman's axe. But we do need to give them an opportunity to renounce their lives of banditry. A lot of people only turn to robbing others when times are bad for them personally. Some of them welcome an opportunity to leave that life and rejoin the rest of us, but others...She trails off and stares into the middle distance for a moment, before putting one hand on her hip and pinching the bridge of her nose with her other hand.
Perception DC 15:
You're sure the hand that went to her hip was originally straying toward her peacebonded shortsword. It looks a bit awkward.
Anyway, she says, eyes still closed, are we agreed that we'll try to ambush them in the morning, try to capture rather than kill, and that any that we do capture will be given a fair trial, to the best of our capabilities?
I like this girl, but something tells me we shouldn't trust her entirely...
"I'm in full agreement. What preparations can we make before the morn?"