Ra'hl also knows, purely by reputation, Kasten Garress, one of the men talking in the courtyard. A minor son of a minor son of the house, Kasten has been known to be capable if not relatively ordinary. It makes sense he would have left home for here.
The trading post certainly appears to be in a cycle of clear expansion. Fresh timber noted by Ra'hl outside the compound along with posted tents and new construction make it clear that regardless of how well the fight with the bandits has been going things are on the move at Oleg's.
Mattrim notices other tracks as well. Scouts. On horse and on foot. Not from Oleg's but skirting around it. Skulking on the raised terrain and keeping from sight. Its not very recent but the area has been watched. Perhaps the fight against the bandits has been more protracted than Mattrim had heard.
In the relatively flat land the outpost is easily seen and, conversely so is Mattrim though at this distance no one would probably notice him yet....
"Rather fine clothes for doing work in the wilderness, Rogarvia. Sure you didn't get lost on your way back to Brevoy?" She watches him carefully, measuring him against a rule that only she could see.
Ra'hl's smile widens just a bit more as she speaks. Fiery. "The garments are magical. I'm sure they'll suit my needs. I can change them if you wish though milady. I would hate to have my new allies feel uncomfortable." Gripping the reins, he presses his heels in, lifting himself out of the saddle and finding solid footing on the ground once more.
"Who here cares for the horses?" Ra'hl asks clearly expecting a stable-hand to be present at the outpost.
Ra'hl's eyes meet with Osk's with a knowing look. "It seems I may have found a new ally already. I will have to make the time to speak to this man quietly when I can find the time."
Osk meets the knowing look only to grunt a moment later as he gestures, again, to the stables, Its the Stolen Lands. Wild and unbidden. We handle our horses ourselves...
Aleria sighs at him, shaking her head. "Fresh out of the big city, and doesn't even know how to care for a horse? I suppose the real question becomes does the horse know better how to handle itself then he does?" She gives him a bit of an exasperated look and a sigh, no real heat in her verbal jab, but sets down the shafts she was preparing to come over and take a look at his horse.
She reaches into a pouch on her belt, grabbing out a carrot, and slowly walks over. She looks up and down her head, whispering to the horse gently. "There there, friend. How goes the travels?" She slowly reaches up to rub the horse's head and neck, offering it the carrot.
She looks up at Ra'hl and thinks for a moment. "This forest is unkind at the best of times, especially to peacocks. What brings you this far south?"
Osk's response seems to shake the cobwebs from on of the other men standing in the courtyard as large broadly built man approaches in haste.
He is dressed in a combination of worker's smock, leather work pants, boots and a somewhat threadbare homespun shirt. His head features thinning hair and he looks as though he has been losing weight faster than he has been gaining muscle and as such his skin seems slightly loose on his face, made noticeable as he half runs up to Ra'hl and Aleria, Ah sir. This is Oleg's I am Oleg. My wife Svetlana... Oleg gestures at his wife who is moving about in the kitchen/lodge so fast that its hard to tell exactly what she looks like...he continues, And I uh welcome you and can...um...let me just...there we go....take your horse...
Oleg navigates around Aleria in a fluster and seizes Ra'hl horse for himself while cleric questions the newcomer. As he goes Oleg swings Ra'hls horse deftly around, trotting it to the stable as he expertly removes the saddle and other accoutrements.He disappears inside the building but sounds of pens being opened, gear being moved and so on come to the courtyard easily.
"So it seems. To be honest, I have spent most of my life in the city. I've only learned to ride in the last few months. I would be happy to learn though." Ra'hl says with a kind smile. Especially if you were to be my teacher."
His eyes fall upon the man calling himself Oleg. "Thank you sir, and thank you for the lodging. If there is payment or work that you need, you've only to ask."
For all his noble dress and posturing, Ra'hl doesn't act much like any noble you've ever met. "A peacock? You wound me milady." Ra'hl smiles openly for the first time, almost fighting away a laugh.
"You're likely right though. No I've no experience in the woods, and I'll do my best to keep from being a burden. To be honest, I needed to be as far from New Stetven as possible. There is a man there who wishes for my head. I found allies in Rostland who sent me here to keep me safe. At this stage, I find securing my homeland from wilderness bandits far easier than the thief back home."
Aleria eyes him over a bit. This one is incorrigible. Not two minutes in the place, and he is already making more of an ass out of himself than his steed. Aleria's mouth twists in a half frown half pondering expression, before she finally speaks up.
"Well, welcome to the end of civilization, and Deadeye's garden. Come grab some breakfast. Deadeye's rules keep us here, pitch in and do what you can to make the community better. What skills have you got? Since your here to clean out the bandit problem, I assume you've some skill in a fight?"
Aleria looks about after asking her question, slowly nodding to the elven woman and the others coming in to the trading post, giving them a wave over.
At the peacock slight toward Ra'hl, Duška allows herself a quick smile as she dismounts.
The tall woman stretches after the long ride, then quietly leads her own horse toward the stables in the wake of Oleg and Ra'hl's steed.
While they wait for Oleg to stable the nobleman's steed, she feeds her own black horse an apple, then when he's ready Duška hands the burly frontiersman the reins;
"Thank you Master Oleg. His name is Stín. If he's trouble give me a shout..."
The ranger then walks back toward where the rest of the group gather. As she does so, the half elf furtively eyes the outpost's fortifications;
Where would the Graven have come at them? Where would I..?
The woman casts her gaze ground wand for a second, regret playing across her face...
Who I was. Not who I am.
... before recovering and joining her new companions just as Ra'hl finishes his speech, and she adds her own soft answer to Aleria's question;
"For my part: The hunt for redemption. I have skill with both bow and blade Mistress, and all too familiar with The Wilds and our prey..."
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Aleria eyes the half elven woman a bit more closely and nods to her. "Redemption is a difficult road. Though if it could be found, this is the place to start. The Stolen Lands are nothing if not fair. Who you were and what you have done matters little in the daily struggle to survive." She offers Duska a soft smile.
She thinks for a moment and nods to her. "Should you ever want to talk about it, I'm sure that Elder Jhod would be willing to speak with you. Or if he does not mind, I could as well. My name is Aleria. I have traveled much of the River Kingdoms and the Stolen Lands. Priestess in service of Deadeye himself." She offers a slight nod, brushing some dirt and dust off her leather as she leads them back to the tables with the others.
Duška returns Aleria's words and smile with a nod and smile of her own;
"Thank you for your words, your faith and your ears should I need them Mistress. May Deadeye and Ketephys bless our hunt."
She accompanies the frontier priest to the tables, where food, planning and other new faces await.
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Cuddles is still at the table devouring large quantities of food and drink at an astonishing rate. The only thing more astonishing is Svetlana's ability to keep up.
The Orc takes up half a table all by himself and looks up to greet the newcomers. His smile is full of bits of food and his teeth are yellowed and square, but his smile is genuine like only a child's could be.
HI! I CUDDLES! IT VERY NICE MEET ME. Cuddles has also been working on his manners in common... it's a long road.
Aleria nods back, leading the pair to the table. She takes her seat back, cutting off slices of meat, bread, cheese and other foods with her dagger and eating whilst looking at maps and using a specialized tool to start smoothing out and righting the arrow shafts.
"The young man here sitting beside me is Anton. And our generously enormous companion over here is Cuddles. He likes to hug, best breathe out first." She winks at Duska before settling back into her breakfast routine.
She smirks at Cuddles as he introduces himself. "You are getting better at your manners, Cuddles. I'm very proud of you." She gives him a near motherly smile of affection.
Cuddles beams back, then decimates a slab of bacon with a ferocity that would make most monsters blush.
Svetlana emerges from *somewhere* suddenly and swiftly not unlike a raptor upon a mouse as she descends on the orc, "Mommy" says that is enough I suddenly have double the mouths to feed and you eat in a day what most eat in a week. Done for the day! She swats at Cuddles but its easy to see that the lean woman has an almost soft spot for the brute as she shoos him away from the table.
As others mill about and Olege darts in and out taking Duska's mount, Svetlana pulls at the cover on her head tucking a few shisps of brilliant red hair back into place as she waves everyone to the large table, Food enough still though a bit less meat that I might have intended... she offers an eye roll in Cuddles direction. Nothing fancy but its food.
Aleria looks over at Svetlana thoughtfully. "If need be Svetlana, I'll take Cuddles and maybe some of the others out later hunting. See about building up some of the stores for you. It seems that we are going to have some more permanent guests."
Aleria looks around at the post, getting a sense of things going on. She seems to be turning some gears inside her head, planning out her day.
Duška nods in greeting at both Svetlana, Anton and Cuddles in turn;
"Apologies. I forget my manners. I am Duška Umírajícíkrev. Once of the Gronzi, now of the Stolen Lands. I will earn my keep Mistress Svetlana... for my sins."
At her last words she smiles nervously and looks to Aleria.
Aleria quirks her brow at Duska, thinking a moment. "One of Deadeye's greatest warnings is never suffer a fool. I see no fool here..." she glances for a moment over to Rogarvia, then back at Duska, "...well, I don't think so anyway. If it is going to bring us concern or danger, we can speak of it privately. If not, leave it behind. There are concerns and cares enough trying to live in an untamed wild such as this. Do not leave open the chance to doubt your own strength and sense."
"I have been praised for my skill in a fight." He answers truthfully, "but I do not wish that to be the only aid I give. Treat me no different than any other among you. If there is work to be done, ask it."
Turning his attention to the others, "Quite a full crowd we have. I did not realize that House Garess's influence ran so far south. With two men, "Strong as Mountains" guarding the outpost, I will sleep well tonight." Ra'hl takes a seat wherever one is open, and reaches for bread and cheese first. "Milady Svetlana, your bounty is plenty, and we are grateful you would share it with us."
Svetlana smiles warmly at all the sudden attention, Oh my so much help all of a sudden. No Kasten and his boys right filled me up and I suspect they will again if you plan on leaving soo. I can hold out a few more days. Bokken is due to trade and I heard word another caravan might come now that we are in the warmer months of summer. You are all sweet to offer though... She dips and bobs around the area putting food down, picking it up and generally moving around the lodge in a sort of constant blur...
Duška nods at Aleria's words, as she helps herself graciously to some of the food left after the orc's mighty efforts;
"No threat to us."
The ranger then poses another question;
"Here in The Wild. This Stolen Land... are bandits and robbers the only threats yet encountered? What of foes monstrous, beasts and perhaps even... the fey?"
She whispers the last word, chasing a scrap of bacon in faux focus...
For the touch of the First World lingers here. I feel it.
Cuddles sulks from the table, but with a smile, for he had escaped with one last handful of meat. He walks over to a well-abused post, puts on a series of iron rings, and starts punching the post viciously.
Aleria quirks her left eyebrow, watching the exchange between the two men. Pompous, brash, arrogant and also mouthy. Deadeye, why do you test my patience so soon after we receive possible new companions?
Aleria smirks at Svetlana, watching her work. She looks over at Duska and smiles softly. "There are plenty of beasts, animals, and other such creatures. It would not surprise me to find that the touch of the First World lays upon this land. There are plenty of others involved in its life, I couldn't imagine the fey leaving such a wild place alone."
After a few moments of watching her, she picks up her bow, making her way over to Ra'hl. She looks up at him, the look of a mother looking up at her unruly grown son. "I don't know what it was of what you said that seems to have Osk on edge. Not sure that I care to either. But you start causing trouble around here, and I'll bend you over my knee and spank you like the spoiled little brat you seem to think you are. I don't care who you claim to be."
"Rogarvia?" Anton mutters to himself (or Cuddles, if he's paying attention). "He could have at least chosen a more convincing lie." Seeing that the newcomers intend to intrude upon his table, he sighs in exasperation and begins packing up his things, rolling parchments, moving ink bottles, and tucking the quills back behind his ear. He mutters all the while in the coarse Hallit tongue, generally grizzling about the inconvenience and poor manners of the intrusion.
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Ra'hl gives a knowing nod to Osk.
He listens to Aleria's threat, dismissing it. Not in a rude way, but he is used to people making judgements about him. He grows quiet, not wishing to set off the temper of this fiery woman.
Ra'hl keeps his arms out of the way trying his best not to interfere with Anton's studies.
Finally seeing the compound off in the distance, Mattrim leads Saber and the Mare off of the road a good ways.
Mattrim finding a good place to leave the two, ties the Mare to a tree, leaving plenty of slack for it to move about and defend itself if necessary.
Turning to Saber one last time he points to the Mare and issues a final command "Guard" .
Saber looks back at Mattrim, clearly unhappy with his assigned duties but finds some bushes to keep watch from.
There that should keep the two of them out of trouble. Now let's see about this compound. All those tracks might mean they are on edge if they have been recently assaulted. I should be careful not to seem too dangerous.
Mattrim will then approach the entrance to the compound, doing his best to not seem threatening. "Gozreh, if your listening, now would be a really good time to have these people be friendly." He mutters to himself.
His light brown hair that runs down to his his shoulders, and has a decent beard that is kept short enough not to be a liability. Both are mostly unkept and a closer inspection would reveal bits of leaf and woodland foliage running through his hair.
His clothes are show heavy sign of use, muddy, disheveled, and torn at places. A dark green cloak covers his shoulders, with a brown shirt and breeches, along with tough leather boots.
He carries a composite longbow+quiver across his back, and a large sword (falchion) is strapped to his right hip. Mirrored by a small dagger on the other side.
In fact the only thing on him that doesn't appear to have been used heavily, or soiled by the wilderness, in a near immaculate Breastplate that he wears.
Finall, there is a long scar that runs the length of his left forearm.
As he approaches he does his best to seem nonthreatening, but it is clear he is tense.
Feeling rather frustrated by his lack of engaging, Aleria turns and walks off, headed to the gate. Her morning sweep was something she needed to do. She sighs and thinks to herself. I really should get geared up, but there hasn't been anything happen the last few days, I don't know that I should worry...
She starts for the gate, and steps on a twig, making a rather loud snap. Her eyes dart down, her brow crawling at the noise. Twigs..., inside the camp..., that's..., Alright. Don't be lax. I get it. This is not a day to be careless. I'll remember that.
Chastising herself, Aleria heads back to the bunkhouse, sliding the silvery shirt of metal rings over her leathers, slinging her quiver and buckling on her belt pouch, a pair of pouches and a pair of daggers at her sides. Finally she slips a wrought silver elkhorn bow on a simple chain over her head, the symbol of Erastil, her holy symbol given her by her mentor that sent her along to learn about the world, and seek her place.
Coming back out, gear in place, she stalks over to the gate, casting her eyes around and getting a good sense of the surroundings of the trading post, quickly becoming a familiar sight. That is when she spotted him, coming across the field. A sight bit taller than I am, and certainly the look of a woodsman about him. I wonder how long he has been on the road... She blinks for a moment realizing that his path doesn't perhaps track to the path the others came from. Well..., here goes nothing...
Aleria draws and knocks an arrow, and calls out to the newcomer. "Oi there! Welcome, come on in! Looks like you could use a rest and a good meal."
It was a long day and riding through the dense forest tires one much more than it might seem at first. The horse does the hard work, sure - but the rider has to keep track of obstacles and steer the mount along the most promising path. Riding in full battle garb did it's toll as well, but Natasha would not risk being careless in this forest ever again. She swore it months ago and held the promise every day since then.
Many days she was on the road already - well you can't really call it a road. There was one at the beginning of this trip, but it soon became a mere path which then vanished in some elder shrubs. And she made sure to not go the direct road, she remembered all to well what lay there and was not about to risk alarming a stray patrol - if there were any at all.
Taking a detour through the eastern parts of the thicket she even paid a brief visit to Bokken to see if he was still allright. Well he was still not right in the head, but otherwise fine. They drank wine together and she went her way again.
There was an outpost on her way, just a mile ahead. She had heard about it many months ago, when embarking on the fateful journey, but obviously there was no opportunity to visit it yet.
Maybe there were brave souls there by chance, some people crazy enough to join her. Maybe she would have a second chance and spare herself returning with empty hands.
------
Lights ahead. She slows her pace and approaches the little fort warily, stopping at the border of the forest. The sight before her is not what she expected - a trading post might not be the best name for this. It looks like an old military fort, just in need of some repairs and a stout gate.
Seeing two figures, she chooses to wait and watch. The young man seems nervous, and armed - but one man alone doesn't come to lay siege to such a structure. And since the woman greeted him quite joyously, Natasha takes it as a sign that no trouble should be waiting here.
She spurs her horse to approach slowly, making sure to hold her lance up, so that her banner be seen and no harm expected.
------
"Good evening, woman. Your words may have been not for me, but I hope the hospitality extends to all who are here." She says quite loudly, making sure that nobody is surprises by a heavily armed rider. Then she nods with an exaggerated flourish, first to the redhead, then the young man, stopping her horse near the woman, so that both may see each others faces.
------
Natasha is a woman clad in a finely worked steel chain shirt, with stout leather pants and boots. She wears a plain brown woolen cloak, but made sure to pull back the hood, so her face can be seen.
She is quite tall, towering at almost 7 feet - which is further made more prominent thanks to being mounted on a massive dark grey shire horse, fitted with studded leather armor.
She holds a lance in one hand, pointing towards the sky, but does not seem to show any aggression. It serves as the pole for a flag, showing a crest of some kind. At her side she wears a sheated sword, and her horse is equipped with heavy saddlebads, with a bow attached to them.
On the first look, you might think her to be just a strangley tall woman. But once you regard her with more curiosity it is pretty hard to miss that something is not quite right. Her shoulder-length hair is wild and unkept, a mix of white, gray and black. Her eyes have colors that do not match - one orange and one bright green, and a scar runs through her face on the right cheeck - apparently very freshly made.
A very perceptive person might also realize that her fingernail are a little too long and a little too sharp to be just a fancy accessoire - something a warrior would propably not bother with anyway.
She looks wary from the journey.
As Mattrim walks across the field he notices a women with fiery red hair walking his way.
As she notices him and draws her bow he stops, muscles tensed. Come on in? What, just like that? What about all of those tracks? Need to be careful, can't get caught in a trap.
Clearing his throat to respond he hears another voice come from off to the side, from the main road. Jumping much like a surprised cat, he begins to draw his weapon It is a trap...no, maybe not. as he releases his bow mid draw and lets it fall back into it's holster.
Looking between the two, plainly confused and concerned. He takes a few steps back towards the fields, ready to bolt at the slightest hint of trouble.
Burn it, if I don't go they'll think I'm hiding something.
He raises his hands in the air to clearly show they are staying away from his nearly drawn bow. Giving Natasha a curious look before turning his attention back to the lady with the bow.
He calls out as he slowly approaches the two.
"If you'll pardon my asking but why make such offers to a complete stranger?"
Oleg's trading post is a squat compound on a rough road that idles along the southern edge of Brevoy. The road is a pass through of sorts and in recent years has become a sort of marker for where official business ends and the "wild" begins. The terrain around the post is mostly open plains with a random copse of trees offering only the most occasional cover along with the rare dip or rise in the landscape. Otherwise it is flat and open.
At this point the post has 20 foot high walls which open to the western edge of the road with a 15 foot wide gate.
Even from the road through the gate it is clear that the compound houses stables, a lodge, a handful of work houses and other storage. Were it a fort a garrison of 25 or more might make camp but it is doubtful there has ever been that many in this space.
Outside the lodge are a number of stacked timbers and piles of large stone. Some are surely being chiseled and shaped for construction. Near the piles are 2 small and 1 large tent all flying the flag and colors of House Garess of Brevoy.
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Aleria looks up, and sighs. Deadeye, I swear i'll do an extra bit later. I hope we can house all these people...
She nods and holds her bow in her left hand with the arrow, keeping the arrow knocked but not drawn. She looks up and studies the banner the newcomer carries to see what the significance might be. She quickly jolts herself out of her rumination and finally finds her voice.
"Certainly. We were expecting more, just didn't know how many. The charter brings many people this way. And with the Surtovans now decreeing that they want this Bandit King laid low, I am not surprised to see so many people today."
She looks the woman over. Erastil's horns..., She is..., Cuddles tall. and her hands..., those nails..., and her eyes. Testing my patience, I know you are now. A hugging orc, a pompous lordling, a giant powerful woman, a elvish wanderer with a dark past, a whisper thin scholar, and now a rough woodsman. How ever in the green fields do you expect this to turn into a community?
Casting her eyes to the man, she watches him. A bit skittish this one. Like a wild animal. Maybe..., hmm. Erastil save me for a fool.
She calls out to the man on the road as she draws the arrow back out of her bow and quivers it again. "Come on, friend. We are quite careful with the bandits in the area. Though, truth be told you look like you've run afowl of some of them yourself. This is Oleg's, and its doors are open to all that are peaceable."
"The charter you say? So the lords have already sent replacements." Natasha says - more to herself than to anyone else. "And news of the Stag Lord have reached their ears, hm." she adds almost whispering.
She dismounts slowly to come down to an equal talking position and walks towards the woman. She never liked being more pompous than necessary.
While good manners might dictate to offer a handshake, she seems to ignore this and bows slightly before her instead.
"Natasha Medvyed, pleased to make your acquaintance. We might have some things to talk about."
She then turns to the man who has apparently shaken off some of his unsecurity and chose to approach. "Hello to you as well, traveller."
I'm pretty sure a 19 is enough for that information, well that and ears.
Ra'hl watches quietly as the new man enters into the camp.
When the Lady Medvyed enters, he recognizes the banner. He rises from the table and approaches her. He bows before her, ""Lady Medvyed, a pleasure to meet you. Your family has always been a noble line of loyal servants to the throne. It is a pleasure to meet you. My name is Ra'hl of House Rogarvia."
Sighing to herself more than anything else, she waves the pair in and starts walking to the tables. "Come on, plenty of food and drink, and a place to rest your feet. Name's Aleria, in Deadeye's service. Sorry for the bow. But with the bandits having suffered one blow, have to be cautious that they don't sneak up on us and strike back."
Aleria looks around the post and nods to the others. "Welcome to Oleg's. The pair over there have been here a while. The man on the left is Elder Jhod, priest of Erastil. I defer to him while he chooses to remain in this place. The man he is speaking to is one Kesten Garess. The monster of a man making that post cry to it's mother over there is Cuddles. He has a passion for hugging, and when you first talk to him, I suggest breathing out. Less painful."
She smiles softly as she keeps going around the Post. "Those two there are the owners of the Post, Oleg and his wife Svetlana. The scout there is Osk, he just brought us the new decree from the regent. The pale and slightly underfed looking one is Anton, he's a travelling scholar of some sorts. The Elvish woman is Duska, she just arrived, along with the one dressed up all finely. His name is..., Rogarvia something. That's pretty much everyone..., I think. I hope I'm not leaving out anyone."
Aleria takes a deep breath and points over to an outbuilding. "Stables are there, for your horses, no stable hands though, so you'll have to handle your own animals. Other than that, welcome to paradise on the edge of the wilds."
Aleria watches Ra'hl and frowns when he speaks, for now just listening.
Natasha eyes Ra'hl intensly after he ended his speech, then nods to him as well.
"Yes indeed, but I am a mere servant of the people myself, trying to become worthy of the name."
After this, she adresses Aleria again. "It's good to hear that first blows were inflicted upon the bandit scourge that plagues this lands."
She seems to become slightly agitated at the mention of bandits.
She then follows the woman on the little tour. She seems pleased to realize that a priestess of Erastil is apparently in charge, greets everyone assembled formally with another slight nod, then takes her horse towards the stables. "Come Florin, the stable awaits. no more crowds there, just new friends. And food." She pats the massive horse on the head lovingly and goes inside with him, taking off his harness and doing the necessary preparations for him to stay for a time.
Natasha eyes Ra'hl intensly after he ended his speech, then nods to him as well.
"Yes indeed, but I am a mere servant of the people myself, trying to become worthy of the name."
Ra'hl smiles at her, "Aye milady, I can think of no greater challenge than proving yourself worth of a name. It is a battle I find myself entwined in this very day."
Duška nods silently at the newcomers as they enter, trying not to show her awe at Natasha's stature.
More new faces. He has the look of the wilds about him, whilst she... By the gods she is tall! She must be part jotunn!?
She quickly returns to picking at breakfast spread sparingly, and unconsciously brings forth a deck of illustrated cards which she shuffles in well practiced fashion as she passively listens to the verbal interplay;
Maminka - if they knew I was once what they hunt, would they still welcome me at their table? If these noble born knew they and their ilk were once the prized catch the Shallow Graven hunted, would they judge me? Would they hang me for crimes once committed? Ah Maminka... I shall be strong. Be who I am now. Not who I was...
Duška looks at the card she subconsciously chosen and been staring at whilst in thought:
It showed an illustration of a cylopean barkeep; The Publican
... This represents fellowship and refuge. The cyclops, whilst appearing inconsequential, nonetheless has relevant insight... Bless you Maminka! You speak to me still...
The ranger smiles warmly for the first time in a long time, as tears bead in her almond eyes, but she holds them back and reaches for some food.
"Strong onions in there eh?"
After dealing with her equine companion's needs, Natasha moves towards the table. She leans her lance against a wall corner and sits down, hanging her cloak over the back of her chair.
"Did I understand correctly, you are all here in the service of Brevoy? To reclaim the stolen lands and end the terror of the Stag King?" She takes her time to survey the brave souls at the table - stopping her gaze at each one and looking the person deep into the eyes.
She regards the young sickly looking man with something that might be pity, while being apparently amused about watching the half-orc relentlessly flog the surroundings - it might also be that the sight of a half-orc makes her happy, but for most people this possibility would propably never cross their minds.
The man she met at the gate she ignores mostly, as he seemed nothing more than a lost wanderer or crazy hermit to her.
"I was part of an expedition that predated yours. In fact, I was tasked to recruit a group for the very end of returning safety to the borderlands." she says these wprds with a heavy sigh.
"While I do not hold any official documents for this new endevour, I do have others from an older date that prove my words. I was about to return to my superiors with empty hands, but now it seems I can resume the task with you people."
A thin smile appears on her lips for a split second, then vanishes in a frown.
Something about Cuddles doesn't sit perfectly with her concept of a half-orc. It pecked at the back of her mind. He was huge. Larger than a half blood should be. And vicious. Those punches would have shattered the bones in a half blood's hands, especially with those iron rings. Chips of wood were flying with every blow...
It was her survival instinct that was itcing. Suddenly it recognized Cuddles for what he was. A full blooded Orc, and one that could tear any one of the people here apart if it wanted to.
Mattrim feeling somewhat relieved at the mention of bandits decides to follow the red haired woman. Giving the other lady a quizzical look he stares for a second and marvels at her height and fingernails That can't be natural... then addressing both ladies while walking quickly to catch up My name is Mattrim."
As they walk into the compound, Mattrim stops for a second looking in the direction of Saber and the horse They'll have to hang tight for a little while, until I can make sure everything is okay. then he follows the two ladies in.
As they continue walking he observes the area, looking for possible exit points while trying to take in what Aleria is saying he almost missed it but at the mention of Cuddles he stumbles for a second and blurts out "Wait, THE Cuddles? I've heard thing's about this Cuddles, er sorry, him. I always thought it was a monster of some sort. People say strange things on the road." Eyeing the Half-Orc is he full-orc or only half? Looks unusually large for only Half, but maybe not. I've not met too many so it's best not to judge until I can figure it out.
Next he looks at Anton He really DOES look like he is underfed. What are these people doing to that poor man...
He notices Duska, meeting her eyes for a second, feeling a sense of familiarity hard to say about her, then looking towards Ra'hl, noticing fine clothes that seemed ridicules in his eyes Surely he is not here to hunt the bandits in garbs such as those!?
The others he knocks off in his head, trying to keep the numbers straight.
After hearing about Natasha's comment about bandits he looks at her approvingly for a second before asking "So you all, are in fact, interested in hunting down the bandits?"
Saber watches from the sparse wooded area that Mattrim had left them in as "Four-Legged-Pack-Brother" entered the strange structure. Sighing to himself he circled back around the grove again making sure that nothing was nearby, there was not, as the land around the little patch of trees was flat and anything would be plain to see. Saber then heads back to where the other "Four-Legs" was at, laying down a good distance away, eyeing the horse.
As he lies there he hears some noise coming from the tops of the trees, seeing a group of "Stick-Legs" hopping and flapping between branches, uninterested in the meaning behind the "dance", Saber considered climbing the trees after them but had learned long ago that the little "Stick-Legs" were more likely than not to take to the air and taunt him long before he got close.
Decided, Saber closes his eyes to take a short nap. "Two-Legged-Pack-Brother" could not scold him while he was not there.
Hearing his name, Cuddles stops beating his poor wooden post to splinters and checks his hands. Deep grooves have been carved into his fingers by the rings. Not enough to draw blood, but only just. He removes his rings into a small pouch as he walks over to the yard just inside the gate. He doesn't say anything, he just tries to figure out why the new guy that looked like a hunter would be so impressed by his name. It wasn't a very popular name, but he didn't think it was that wierd.
He is completely unaware that his efforts at concentration cause him to furrow his brow and form his face into a very menacing visage.
Mattrim seeing Cuddles approach him, takes a moment away from his conversation to survey the great Half-Orc Yes, I don't think he is a Full Orc but as Cuddles looms in he sees what looks to be a face of anger I, I, no wonder they made him sound a monster .
Mattrim does his best to stand his ground ends up taking several steps back from Cuddles, hand twitching near his sword for a moment, clearly shaken from the look upon the great Half-Orc's face.
Staring wide eyed at Cuddles. He begins to speak but no words come out.
Aleria makes her way back to the table where her half finished food awaits her. She looks up at the orc and human, and starts laughing. "Cuddles! You make more friends?"
She looks about at the group of them, quite the number all told. No sense in delaying this much longer. She waves over the newcomers. "Come on everyone, grab yourself something to eat, and a drink. Once everyone is settled, Osk here has some info from back in Brevoy regarding the new decree from Surtova."
Cuddles is shaken out of his mental efforts by the voice of the hunter god's lady. His expression relaxes and he grins at the hunter, revealing yellowed, square teeth. COME SIT FOR US HUNTER MAN. I CAN HELP TO SEAT?
Cuddles moves to pick up Mattrim. A full scale invasion of his personal space by a suddenly friendly Orc was imminent!
Duška smiles quietly at the interplay of the others, and wipes her "onion tear" from an eye.
She flips the card delicately in her hand, once more, then returns it to the pack before shifting her attention to Aleria and the words-to-come from Osk...
What (if anything) does Duška recognise or know of this "Stag Lord - Bandit King"? - any rumblings/legend within the bandit gangs to his reputation etc??
Ra'hl continues to keep to his diet of bread, cheese, and fruit. Since the meat is sparse, he tries to leave that for everyone else to eat.
His eyes scan the books and papers Anton seems intent on putting away. Some of the arcane theories, Ra'hl can understand. Though this man's knowledge of spellcraft is leagues above Ra'hl's own. "Sir Marakov, if you do not mind me asking. Where do you hail from. Your house's name is unknown to me. You are clearly a man of great learning."
Ra'hl hesitates a moment, "I do hope he is not a Lord of some house and I have offended him in not using his proper title.."
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