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As the group is fleeing, more shots and screams from behind can be heard. Without clear lines, the arrows fly high and wide, some landing in the grond, others embedding themselves in tree trunks.
Through all of the confusion, the group is able to make it downriver without too much difficulty. The sounds of conflict have all but died out, yells and calls of danger no longer able to be heard.
Well that was perfect! Nearly walked into an ambush. Not that I'm too good at seein one comin mind ya. What now?
As the group pulls to a halt, Anton very nearly collapses, leaning heavily against a tree and clutching at his shallow chest with one hand. "Let's-" he begins, before launching into a violent coughing fit that shakes his whole body, his legs nearly collapsing beneath him. "Let's not rush into something like that again." He swallows hard and shakily pulls himself upright, keeping a hand firmly on his quarterstaff for support.. His shoulders quiver from exhaustion, and his breaths come in measured wheezes.
"Alright, well. We know they have two archer platforms. so I'd propose sneaking up and trying to take them out quickly." He pulls out his spellbook and begins leafing through it. "Unfortunately, I don't have much in the way of spells that may help us. No invisibility, no silent movement illusions, no evocations that may be useful at range... I might be able to set the platforms on fire with a cantrip, but the ways of magic can be fuzzy on such matters." He shrugs, wiping his brow on his sleeve.
"If we can take them out, we'll be able to - in theory - take the main encampment by surprise. Harsk, you and Cuddles can see in the dark, so we may be able to use that to our advantage - perhaps you could rush in in the twilight hour and begin wreaking havoc. Unfortunately, what gives you the advantage leaves Katya and myself - well, in the dark," he finishes, wincing at the unintended joke.
Trouble is fine but the getting shot is not. We would need a prime distraction, something loud enough so that we can at least get close enough to have a fightin chance...
Unfortunately, what gives you the advantage leaves Katya and myself - well, in the dark,
Katya's grin at Anton's pun looks more like a rictus. The platforms are useless if they can't see us, she says. She casts her mind back to what they saw of the camp. If we circle around and attack from the rear of the camp, only one of the platforms has a decent view. I can sneak up on the other one when the attack starts, and take out the archer up there, then shoot at the other platform.
As for making noise, I think we probably have our own inbuilt distraction... She gestures at Cuddles.
###
Cuddles looks delighted to be pointed at.
CUDDLES MAKE HUGGING CONTEST? CUDDLES WIN, FRIENDS WIN?
"That's not a bad plan," Anrton concedes, his breathing becoming less laboured as he straightens his back, "but are you sure you'll be alright on your own?"
CUDDLES NOT ALONE. CUDDLES HAS FRIENDS!
He wasn't asking you you giant green rock! Harsk punches the orc in the arm to emphasize his point. Looking over at Katya, Aye, a good plan but its risky for you. Probably the best we got if you feel up to it.
Cuddles frowns a bit, but isn't offended. Misunderstandings are a way of life for him.
I should be able to handle one brigand, Katya says. And if I have trouble, I can always retreat and try to draw their attention while you attack. Then I can be the distraction.
She looks Cuddles up and down.
I probably won't be as good at it as you, though.
Cuddles grins, a frightening and yet childlike sight.
Katya smiles back weakly. Not sure I'll ever get used to having a huge orc smiling at me, she thinks.
Well then, should we look for somewhere to camp for the rest of the night? Attack a couple of hours before dawn?
Anton shudders involuntarily at the sight of Cuddles grinning, like a moldy pumpkin splitting open. Coughing, he turns his attention back to Katya. "Camping sounds like a good idea. If I take last watch, perhaps I can prepare the right spells for the situation... whatever they may be," he adds moreosely, lamenting his lack of offensive solutions.
Harsk nods at the notion of resting up, Aye. Lets commune with those powers we are connected to and prepare for battle. Might want to uh, cut out the fire though in case they go searching in the night...
There's always that cave we found earlier, Katya suggests. We would be protected from rain, at least.
Harsk eyes light up for a moment, Yes, sleeping near gold is thought to be therapeutic among my people...
"Shelter from the elements, easily defensible, only one approach point..." Anton muses, drumming his fingers on his staff. "Yes, that should work. Shall we, then?"
Harsk nods.
Cuddles heads inside and finds a comfy rock to use as a pillow.
Cuddles heads inside and finds a comfy rock to use as a pillow.
This :p
Katya follows suit.
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It has been three months since the arrival of the original charter holders to the Greenbelt and though much has been done, much still yet remains.
After the retreat from the bandit camp the group rethought tactics and attacked. The conflict ended in a victory though a number of bandits managed to escape across a nearby bridge to the south, destroying it as they went.
With at least that victory in hand Katya, Cuddles, Harsk and Anton returned to Oleg's confident that the trading post was secured for now while the group considered its next steps. However the work was further complicated by the arrival of strangers and dark tidings from elsewhere.
Arriving in town soon after the camp raid a man named Kesten Garress arrived with three warriors in tow. Told of the charter and the promise of something approaching glory or riches, Kesten offers to watch the post while the group surveys the area as the charter dictates. Sensing no duplicity from the man, the group agrees.
A day later a cleric of Erastil Jhod Kavken also arrives in the area hunting for lost sites to his god. Late nights and liquor lined meals get Jhod to admit that his is a mission of redemption for past ill deeds he won't talk further of. He chooses to range alone though he freely offers to lend his healing aid.
Katya receives word from far off family that something is amiss and regretfully leaves. Harsk too receives new orders and, ever the soldier, makes his way elsewhere. Another new face arrives in the form of Aleria, another invitee to the the charter but one who had been held by other pressing business.
Now at least a threesome the group agrees to a slow, careful and systematic exploration of the area. The caution proves prudent as powerful animals lurk on the plains and in the forest to the south. Kobold and bandit raid happen about once a week with little information of the source of either plight.
The group finds a moon radish patch, a local delicacy, as well as a long forgotten shrine and statue to Erastil. Such discoveries improve Jhod's mood and he continues to offer aid and support to the group.
The group finds a hermit to the Southeast of Oleg's. A rambling man named Bokken, the man proves to be a good source of alchemical mixtures and potions that aid the groups efforts.
The group finds a pair of fey living in the north woods and though a chance interaction has led the group to be on civil terms, the size and experience of the group has them give the fey a wide berth as they attempt to learn more about the land.
The group also find a Boggard named Garrum and like the fey the group agrees to leave the creature in peace though he is able to tell the group of a great sycamore tree to the East that the kobolds once told stories of and another crossing point over the rivers that marks the path of escape of the bandits from the first camp.
It has only been a day since that last outing and the group has been introduced to another charter holder who has recently arrived, a somewhat stern looking warrior named Osk. With him he has brought word that the various politicians to the north have heard of the group's efforts and though they applaud the exploration, the incessant banditry has spilled elsewhere into the lands. As such Osk carries with him an addendum to the charter: Explore the lands and kill the leader of these bandits, a man that the group has come to know as "The Stag Lord".
Cuddles awakes under his hay pile in the barn. He stumbles out into the yard and begins his morning routine of punches and strikes on an unfortunate post in the wall. He beats it until his hands are sore, then strides into the common area to see that new guy. The one with the paper. Osk! That's right. Osk. He knew orc. Good man.
Another day, another chance. I truly wonder if this land will ever be more than a wilderness. Can it be, Deadeye? Something in these woods and lands resists the change. The Stolen Lands..., an apt name for it if ever I heard one. Though the day does not wait for any man or woman. Time to see about the day's business."
Aleira rose from her bed, stretching and pushing out the door of the outbuilding that Oleg had taken to using as a boarding house. She sighed, making her way around the camp, heading for the water barrels that she used for bathing.
She frowned around the area looking at the people. Svetlana, always up with the sun. I suppose breakfast will be ready soon. And Oleg. Ever since the charter took up, it seems like his business has increased. Her eyes then fell on the orcish man. She blinked a couple of times, watching the ferocity of his strikes. Deadeye's bowstave..., I hope he is on our side. I'd not like to have to deal with him.
She makes her way to the barrel, dragging one of them around a corner for a bit of privacy as she disrobes, jumps in and quickly scrubs herself, taking back up her robe and quickly clothing herself once again. She then makes her way back around, the cool water starting to dry in the warmth of the morning, as she finds the willowy young man. This place is unkind at the best of times, and he looks so pale and sickly. How does he even stand? Stag's grace save him.
She makes her way back to the bunk house, and gets into her simple leathers, gathering her tools and some of her basic gear. A longbow, of stout construction and made of darkwood, a gift from an elven hunter for saving his life. a few daggers, and her tools for making bows and arrows. She heads over to one of the tables, starting to polish and maintain her bowstave, as well as preparing a few more shafts for arrowheads, and plucking feathers in just the right manner for fletchings. She sets about her work, watching the others, waiting to see what the day might bring.
Three months. Three months of miserable cold, rough living, and Cuddles snoring. It was enough to drive any healthy man insane. Thankfully, Anton Marakov was still not a healthy man.
He's still an early riser, wrapping himself up in his many layers of clothing - having recently traded his old, patchworked robes for warmer, heavily-layered garments with plenty of furs, in a feeble attempt to keep himself from ailing further. The overall effect is comical - his thin, birdlike hands still peek from the sleeves, and his pinched face still perches atop a thin neck that protrudes from the collar like a scarecrow's facade. At least it is somewhat warmer, he concedes, sipping his tea as he sits at the heavy table, poring over a scroll.
"Cuddles, perhaps we should fetch you a side of venison to practice on," he says dryly, picking flyaway splinters out of his hair as the enormous orc wanders past. "It would certainly be cleaner, and punching flesh would do yhou better for practice."
Cuddles coinciders the proposal. Actually he struggles with the complex sentence structure, but it looks like he's coincidering it.
Meat not leave marks. Punching need leave marks.
He shows his red/green fists to the mage. Sure enough, there are ring inventions on each finger.
The morning starts with a fair bit of bustle as the camp awakens. In addition to the exchange between Anton and Cuddles, Jhod Kavken and Kesten Garess seem enthralled in a conversation with Oleg about using nearby lumber and a touch of the cleric's magic to aid in construction of a slightly more permanent structure in the form of a guard house for Garess and his men. Oleg seems reluctant but willing to hear the men out.
Svetlana hustles to and fro into and out of the house apparently set to, yet again, put a table together for every single person in the camp though almost every one has indicated that it is not necessary. Nonetheless the preparations and cooking continue. The day starts sunny but cool and life in the Greenbelt moves on another day...
Osk rises and looks over his gear doing his best to avoid conversation until the dull haze of sleep has passed. He feels older than he used to and the day takes just a little more work to get up and ready to go then he did in his youth. This task was different, and the warrior felt the volume of the task very keenly in his awkward sense that he was intruding on something well under way and carrying instructions that only complicated matters.
Sighing to himself the fighter sets off to find the other charter holders and see if he can strike up a conversation that hopefully won't end in an argument.
Seeing the wizard and Orc Who named himself Cuddles? Osk approaches the pair and offers a slight grunt of greeting before talking, I was hoping we could sit down and talk about the charter and the new request from Brevoy. Clearly I am a new comer but I thought we might discuss a plan of action?
Pausing for a only a second Osk turns to Cuddles and offers a few words in Orcish.
Cuddles nods and responds in kind. He was automatically find of Osk. It was nice to talk to someone in less complicated language and he had missed doing so with the dwarf.
Osk guffaws at the orc and nods vigorously responding in common, Very true.
Noticing the human and the orc conversing, Aleria looked on with interest. The Regent has new instructions does he? I wonder...
Aleria makes her way over to the table with the others. Her voice is on the lower register for women, and carries with it a quality that would be reminiscent of a flowing stream. "What does the Dragonscale Throne want now? This land does as I, and reveres Deadeye's path. What does a ruler from far away want here?"
She sets down her bow, polishing and watching the others, waiting.
Osk cocks an eyebrow at the red haired woman then tilts his head a bit as he offers an even tone, Well far away they may be but under their ah "offer" are we all. The new request says kill the bandit king, this Stag Lord. On the paper? More money? Words unspoken? Seems the politics are too much back home and they may give those who make this area "safe" a chance to call it their own...
Osk looks back to the orc and offers a brief statement.
Cuddles definitely thinks about the offer for a moment. When he responds he uses his common, MAN MAKE PAPER PROMISE LIKE WIND. I KILL CHIEF FOR LAND. CHIEF HURT LAND, MORE HURT GIRLS OF LAND. CUDDLES NOT HAPPY.
Svetlana bustle about at one point tutting Aleria for having her weapons on the table as she practically drags Anton to the table and starts serving food. Another journey out I bet, need to be fully fed. Now that you have some help I imagine things might be go a bit smoother...
The homesteader puts out steaming plates of eggs, local greens and some kind of bacon that smells excellent but looks a little grey compared to the standard stuff.
Cuddles immediately breaks into a grin and says, THANKS MOMMY!, before tucking in with his oversized utensils and a mug that was more appropriately called a barrel with a handle.
He had taken to calling the matron mommy a few weeks ago on a whim and it kinda stuck. Perhaps because he had actually forgotten her real name, perhaps not. Probably so.
Aleria smiles softly at the affectation to Svetlana. She sighs as she looks over at her when she arrives. "My apologies milady. I am used to being out places where keeping your weapons at your side is not only common sense but also polite. How are the food stores holding out? If you ever need something more fresh I can always go hunting for you if you have need over what you can handle."
She finishes polishing her bow, and pulls out a dagger, working on shaving down some branches into usable arrow shafts as she eats the offerings from Svetlana.
"The Stag Lord. The leader of the bandits. He's the one that was supporting that river camp wasn't he? I suppose that means delving further to the south?"
Antonm stumbles as Svetlana drags him to the table, books and scrolls spilling out of his arms and lap as he desperately tries to carry as much with him as possible. With the strap of a scroll-case clenched in his teeth and inkpens tucked behind his ears, he looks the very image of a harried scribe, his messy hair and patchy stubble adding to the effect. He mutters under his breath as he gathers his things from the ground, running a hand back through his hair and offering Svetlana a thin, tired smile. There had been times he'd wondered if she was trying to feed him up in hopes of improving his health - he didn't put it past her, at any rate, and it was a shame she'd never see success. He coughs once into his elbow, placing the scroll-case aside and pulling the pens from behind his ears as he settles in - as much as he ever settles, at any rate - for breakfast and conversation.
"If the leader of these bandits is to the south, then that is where we should go. However, it would not do us well to go charging in blindly. We've explored comparatively little in that region, and according to my notes..." He flips open one of the various journals he carries, scowling when he sees a page of ink blots and tea stains; he flicks through, growing more frustrated as he sees field notes, sketches of interesting flora and fauna, weather reports, and reviews of the food at the outpost; he finally finds his crude map rolled up in the very scroll-case he'd been carrying in his teeth, on the back of a sheet of parchment that Cuddles had apparently tried to write on with what had most likely been a charred sapling.
"Here," he sighs finally, rolling out the map (and having it curl three times before he gives up and props his inkpots on the corners) and pointing. "We've only explored this far." He points, and to his credit, the map itself is immaculately-drawn, even if the edges of the parchment are tattered and stained with ink-blots. "If 'south' is the best idea we have, then perhaps we should focus our exploration in that direction, seeking signs of their habitance." He pauses, sighs, and adds for Cuddles' benefit, "Go that way. Look for bad men." He jerks his thumb roughly in the right direction.
.
Leading a group of strangers, Ra'hl rides in through the front gate, his eyes surveying Oleg's for the first time. "Could this be it? It seems small and crowded for all of us." The man sits proudly atop his steed, dressed in rich cloth laced with expensive furs. His outfit is quite out of place for such a backwoods area. The man's ebony hair would weigh upon his shoulders if not tied into a fine knot. His tanned flesh accentuates the features of his face. A strong, cut jaw and hawk-like nose betray a long heritage of northern men in his line. His features cause your eyes to linger, until you catch his eyes. Two crimson irises that have a terrifying, otherworldly feel, that sharply pierce into you.
His eyes fall to meet each man and woman in Oleg's, eyes catching only for a moment on Aleria. His eyes linger on her, focused upon her crimson crown and the hint of a smile passes across his face before moving on.
A group of men engaged in conversation in the main yard of the small outpost seem surprised by the arrival and seem content to stare at Ra'hl and the others with him rather than do anything or say anything.
Others are seated in a half open lodge, newly expanded to accommodate the increasing camp size and also built so that on warmer days (as already today is shaping up to be) part of the walls can be removed to make it more open and look out at the courtyard.
Here Anton, Osk, Aleria and Cuddles simultaneously tackle the task of reviewing the map and eating food as the boisterous Svetlana attempts to shove plates and bowls in front of them.
Seeing the travelers she puts a hand on her hip and looks out at the courtyard turning to fetch more food she talks half over her shoulder as she bustles about in the kitchen area, More of you? The ones you mentioned to me earlier?
Osk nods his mouth partly full, Yea and then rises slowly, setting down a half eaten biscuit and leaning past the table to check the sky. Frowning a moment he moves around the table and walks out into the courtyard proper, shielding his eyes from the sun and looking on Ra'hl as he talks, Rogarvia, right? Was told before I headed out that you might be making your way...
The warrior makes no attempt to hide his attempt to look over the newcomers as he waves at the stables with an off hand.
Aleria works on cleaning up a brace of shafts, testing their trueness before preparing them properly for fletching and arrowheads. She looks over noting the new arrivals. She combs her fingers through her firey mane, and looks over at each of them in turn, examining them as they approach.
Her eyes fall on the human, with striking features and burning eyes. She puzzles at him for a long moment. That one is rather..., adorable really. I wonder how many days it will take before he's crying for his soft bed back in Brevoy. His gaze lingering on her draws a single eyebrow to raise itself. She looks him over again, trying to glean some form of understanding.
"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.
Looks to be a fine day today.
Mattrim thinks to himself as he hands breakfast to his companion Saber. As he himself begins to eat he muses over group he had been following.
I could have caught up to them yesterday, maybe I should have, it might been easier than trying to bring Saber into the camp. At least it seems they are headed to Oleg's camp. The birds, as usual, were not very helpful on the specifics, other than that a large group of 'Two-Legs' was ahead of the other group, and that they had been there for as long as any could remember.
After finishing their breakfasts Mattrim begins to put the specially outfitted Studded Leather on Saber, a process which took several minutes.
Either way it's too late now, if that is indeed where they are heading then they should rightfully be there by now. I'm only a half days trek behind them. What to do...
Seeing no easy answer he turns to the large cat.
"What do you think we should do Saber?"
The cat looks back at him with his yellow eyes and yawns, shrugging it's shoulders as it encompasses the newly donned armor, sits back down and resumes gnawing on the scraps of his meal.
"Yes, I know you would like to just lay here and nap, it hasn't happening."
Mattrim turns to his own armor, a recent acquisition from a dead bandit. The breastplate was specially formed to allow better mobility while climbing. A little heavier than I would like, but with the sort of creatures down south and all of those bandits, it be foolish to use lighter.He reminisces over his older leather armor which had faced one too many arrows while putting the Breastplate on. It fits well at least.
As Mattrim goes about cleaning up his campsite, if you could call it that, really it was just a well hidden spot a ways off the main path where he, Saber, and his horse had decided to camp. Looking over at the mare, another acquisition from the bandits, she was strong and hardy but was causing problems. For one it had taken him several days to get her to not run at the sight of Saber (who did not help matters by harassing the poor horse) and more still before she would actually sleep. She was also noisy and Mattrim was not very skilled at riding animals. He occasionally rode Saber to save time but even that that was done at a mininum.
Well, if they seem like decent enough folk, who would treat a horse well, maybe that group would have interest in her. The lands around these parts are much to dangerous to just let her roam free. Mattrim grimaces at that last part. Who knows, maybe it would make a good peace offering.
Standing in quiet contemplation Mattrim decides to keep following the road. A half days journey, I can cut off the road early and then circle around their camp. I'll have to do something with the horse, maybe I can tie her up and leave Saber to guard her while I scout ahead. Chuckling to himself while looking towards Saber.The mare may not like that but Saber surely will.
After feeding the mare with what little remained of the food he had found for her, he packed the little gear he owned on Saber and headed back towards the main trail.
Saber looks back at Mattrim feeling slightly uneasy. Two-Legged-Pack-Brother has look, it never good for me. Saber seeing Mattrim pack the rest of their gear on the horse, stands and stretches, flexing his powerful claws. Grumbling to himself he begins to follow as Two-Legged-Pack-Brother draws the other four legs back towards the cleared trail, staying well away from it, he had learned, the other four legs kicked. Drawing closer to the trail, Saber strayed off a bit, just out of sight, as Mattrim had shown him to do.
Cuddles stares openly at the new arrivals. He doesn't say anything for now. A sailor had once taught him that this was called letting your bulk do the talking. Cuddles has no idea why it's called this because he had listened very closely and his bulk hasn't said anything yet. Then again, he was well over seven feet tall and weighed as much as three men before breakfast, so maybe he hasn't listened to the right part yet.
So he gulps down another full pint of water and shoves several sausage links in his mouth at once without issue. The listening would have to wait. Now was breakfast!
Duška dismounts from her horse, eyes wary and searching.
The lithe ranger takes in her surroundings warily...
Once upon a time I would have raided a place such as this. Now I defend it. Maminka you would be proud!
She follows the rest in, keeping quiet and tries to allow Ra'hl and Natasha draw the attention.
Her gaze is drawn first to the raven haired woman, not because of her brazen words to Ra'hl, but to the shafts she prepares.
Diligent and likely skilled. Wonder how she prepares her fletchings?
Duška's musings are cut short by the realization of a bulky orc sitting at the table shoveling down jotunn sized portions of breakfast.
Majka! He is a big one! These truly are strange companions!
She tries not to let her surprise show, whilst maintaining a guarded stance as she waits for Natasha and Ra'hl to speak...