The first of two tables for Kingmaker Part 1: Stolen Land; picked up from a previously abandoned game.
The din at the Champion Inn has died to a low hum of conversation and bard music. The patrons are not sharing laughs and drinks this night by coincidence. No, the people here have come in search of purpose, fame, fortune, and redemption. They had heard word that the Lord Mayor of Restov was to choose a group to send out into the Greenbelt, a previously unsettled stretch of land in Brevoy, and tame it on behalf of the Throne. When they came into town throughout the day, they'd all been pleased to find that the Lord Mayor was offering complementary drinks at the Champion Inn for those interested.
It wasn't long after the last of them entered the inn that the conversation turned to where their benefactor was, and how he would choose those he would send.
Not long after that, a middle-aged man, visually of Chelish descent with the stature of a king and some of the finest clothes any of the patrons had seen, entered the inn followed by a pair pikemen in matching armor. Some of the patrons recognize the pikeman on the right as the bartender, whipping their necks back, they see that they are indeed identical twins. It seems whilst the patrons have been talking the two have been trading places and reporting back to this new well-dressed man. The bartender's twin then announces the man before him, "His honor and lordship, the Mayor of Restov, Lord Ioseph Sellemius."
With a slightly embarrassed smile, the Lord Mayor uttered, "Thank you Matvey," under his breath before beginning.
"Lords, Ladies, Gentlemen, Gentlewomen, honored guests all," he began with an orator's eloquence, "I apologize for my tardiness, but my colleagues and I have been deliberating quite a bit over whom to charter for the task of taming and settling the Greenbelt. I'm happy to say we have come to an agreement." He produces 4 envelopes sealed with wax with names written on the front, and using them for reference, continues "Would Mr. Finnegan Winter Jr., Mr. Gird Medvyed, Dame Derra Clawstrider, and Sir Andreas der Eisfalke please join me in the next room, please." He gestures to a set of double doors across from the entrance that had been locked thus far. "The rest of you are free to carry on for the rest of the night on me, and please keep an eye out for my courier in the future, as the troubles of Brevoy are far from few." With a smiling nod, the man walks through the parting crowd like a hand gently pushing water. His overt nobility makes him seem quite out of place among the rough and tumble crowd through which he mills, but his humility and benevolence are welcomed and respected by all who see him.
The guards circle around and open the doors, allowing the Lord Mayor and the four candidates into what seems to be a private dining room based on the ornate long wooden table the head at which the Lord Mayor seats himself. The other candidates file in after him and take a seat as he gestures for them to do. The Lord Mayor hands the envelopes to Matvey and as the guard is passing them out, Lord Sellemius explains, "These are your charters, they bear my crest, and will serve as proof that you have authority to settle these lands should this fact be disputed. We've sent word of your duty ahead of you to Oleg's Trading Post which is about a day's ride..." he pulls some rolled-up leather out of his robes and unfurls it on the table; the candidates can see that it is a leather-bound map of Brevoy and the surrounding area "...west by northwest of here; and I recommend this is where you begin your journey. You are, of course, welcome to stay the night. In fact, I've charted a mercenary named Annurian from New Stetven, and he may be headed here now to leave with you in the morning, although he may opt to go straight there since it's closer. All the same I would appreciate it if you waited until morning for him. Are there any questions?"
This early in the morning, the training room of the Stetvenite Mercenary Group building is always empty which is why Annurian likes it so much. The calm and quiet this time affords helps him to focus on his technique, to harness his fury. This morning however, not an hour into his routine, the SMG's obnoxiously loud door knocker began pounding. He tried to wait it out to see if whoever it was would simply leave, but they persisted. So, bloodrage still active, the wereboar charged up the stairs to the door and flung it open.
The halfling gentleman behind the door was taken aback at the sight, but quickly recovered himself and held out a letter with Annurian's name on it, sealed with a blue wax crest. Relaxing his rage, Annurian took the letter flicked the courier a copper, and snatching it midair he tipped his leather hat uneasily, and hopped back on his riding dog to speed off in the distance.
Annurian leaned on the doorway letting the coolness of the morning evaporate his sweat. He broke the seal, and immediately another sealed letter fell out of this one. He decided to read the first letter before opening the second.
Mr. Annurian,
My name is Lord Ioseph Sellemius, Mayor of Restov. I'm writing to you at the recommendation of your former superior in the Brevic Army commended your fighting abilities highly. He also relayed your interest in the expedition I'm chartering, the one to settle the Greenbelt namely, and I've decided to charter your services! I've sent the official charter along with this letter, and it will serve you as proof of your authority under the Throne of Brevoy to settle the Greenbelt.
I intend to procure four other individuals tomorrow, or rather today I suppose as this letter will probably not reach you until very early in the morning, for which I humbly apologize. You are free to meet them at the Champion Inn here in Restov before they leave what will be tomorrow morning when you're reading this, or feel free to travel directly to Oleg's Trading Post, as it is indeed closer to you than here.
Forgive my verbosity, but this is all just too exciting!
I look forward to meeting you! If not tomorrow then when you return from your travels!
Sincerely
Lord Ioseph Sellemius, Mayor of Restov
Closing the door, Annurian fingers the charter in his hand as he approaches the map the SMG keeps on the wall of the common room to determine what route he'll take.
Derra was greatly overjoyed that she had been picked, she was purring like someone had just tossed catnip all over the place.
"Prrrraise Shelyn and my ancestorrrs' spirrrits! I've been picked! I've been chosen! This is my chance to find my people a new homeland, one we can call ourrr verrry own!"
Her tail was wagging back and forth in glee as she quickly thanked Lord Ioseph Sellemius and gathered up her belongings and made a mad dash out the door, and almost running straight through said door in her rush to get her horse ready for the journey to Oleg's Trading Post.
Annurian cleaned the sweat out of his face, resting the letter on the nearby table while approaching the wall map. With one of his nails still elongated - a small reminiscent piece from the claws he develops while raging, as a couple minutes ago - he touched the map and swiftly moved as if thinking on his path.
It seems our past ends up catching up with us, mother. - he thought, while being careful as not to harm the wall map - You and father fled those lands so long ago, yet we always knew we'd come back some day. "Ours Is the Right"...
He smiled and started packing. That's what he had been waiting for quite a while. He didn't know if Lord Sellemius knew about his roots - and the fact he was a Surtova - but could only imagine the news had travelled, and he should be ready. As much as his distant relatives would have to accept him now, nothing would prevent them from sending a knife in the dark to correct a mistake of two decades ago.
To the Trading Post..., he told himself.
Fenn smiles excited about being given the opportunity to do something worthwhile and help tame the lands for decent folk to make new homes.
"Ah Thank'ya kindly Mista~ er.. Mahlard ! Ah'm sure we'll all do our best ta' serve tha people o' Brevoy to our best, Sah! An is jus' milard... is.. was.. mah pap's name.. and if'n its all tha' same.. Ah'd like ta' leave tha' name far behind meh!"
The country half-elven young man bows politely and shakes the mayor's hand if offered.
Turning to Sir Andreas he smiles even wider, "Looks like we gits ta' work tagether on this venture! Ah agrees a good night sleep.. at least fur meh would be something Ah could use aftah walking and force-marching all tha' way here to be on time!"
Overhearing the bit about horses, the Lord Mayor chimes, "For the ride up to the Trading Post, feel free to borrow a horse from my stables, just leave it there with word that it's mine, and Oleg can send it back with the next trapper or hunter who comes through. Or you can show that charter to Jalo Carl at his stable next door, and you're sure to garner the Official discount on a steed of your own."
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At hearing his name Gird follows those who are ushered into the new room
Once all is said and done Gird approaches Ioseph Sellemius and shakes his hand
Mayor Sellemius, thankyou very much for this opportunity, I shall use what family influence I have and all my personal resources to seeing this venture succeed."
Gird leaves that night with a spring in his step the hardly remembers the following journey to Olegs on the borrowed horse
As breakfast crawls to a close, it becomes clear to the four Settlers that their fifth member has decided to meet them at Oleg's trading post.
After the four of them have made arrangements to ride to the trading post, they find that the journey there is quite pleasant due to the crisp, cool air, the occasional rabbit or fox, birds chirping as they come within a few miles the Narlmarches, and the smell of stewed pork as they approach what they assume is Oleg's Trading Post. All they can see from the outside is a tall wooden palisade with taller towers at the corners, and a wide wooden gate that seems pulled tight shut.
Fenn nods, "yeah... Ah could use a steed ta' travel with..Ah had ta walk all tha' way here mahself.. on account o' nt having the coin ta' afford a riding horse... mayhap.. with a little adventuring.. Ah'll be able ta' afford one soon.. but fur now... I'll jus' barrow one o' tha' ones offered! Thank ya!"
The young half-elf takes what few belongings he owns to his room for the night and turns in for the evening. Getting his strength back from his long journey on foot...
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In the morning Fenn is up early.. and quickly dressing get outside to do some morning sword play practice... grabbing a cup of hard cider and some hardtack bread for breakfast.
Clearly he is familiar with horses but has little experience riding them for long periods... but as is the norm for youth he adapts quickly.
On arrival at the trading post ...Fenn rides around the post outside to get a good view of it to see if it is indeed intact... as Sir Andreas warned about brigands operating in the areas to the south.. the young Ranger wants nothing overlooked for signs of their presence... in this area...
You notice something odd about the paths leading to and from the trading post: namely that the path that leads to the Narlmarch is more well worn than that leading to Restov.
Derra smiled as they rode down the road.
"This is so grrreat! I can finally help my people find a homeland of ourrr verry own! This is so amazing! I can harrrdly contained myself!"
She did however begin to feel a bit homesick. So she took out a small silver bell and struck it. Instead of the normal ringing that most bells do, Derra's bell made a sound like the rumbling of distant thunder.
[ooc]That would be one of her trinkets.[/b]
Fenn rides up and comments to Sir Andreas, "...everythin' looks good.. no signs o' any recent trouble... at least on tha' surface."
He dismounts and walking forward resting a hand on the pommel of his shortsword at his waist.. as he swaggers to a position at Andreas' side...
Howdy.
His voice comes from the bushes near the gate, outside the trading post. The figure seemed to either be hiding, the entire time, or just arriving. Walking slowly, the tall man carries a bow on his back, a wooden shield on his arm and wears scale mail with full gauntlets, obviously very worn. He resembles some sort of soldier, yet carries no banner.
If he is naturally intimidating, his voice tone isn't much; he's speaking calmly and friendly, even if sticking to the point.
I take that you were sent here by the mayor? - he completes, clearly analyzing each of the present to all their details.
"Indeed and hallo! I'm assuming you werrrre also sent as well," the armored catfolk said in her strong accent, "my name is Derrra Clawstrrriderrr Rrrruning Brrrroook!"
She smiled at the strange man as she tried to keep the situation from going down hill very quickly.
Annurian dodges the question about being hiding on the bushes, and stops approaching. He looks at the group with even more attention than before, finally replying on the same tone as previously.
The name is Annurian. I was engaged by the Mayor to accompany a group of four in an expedition to settle the Greenbelt - I assume the four of you were communicated of my presence here by Lord Sellemius?
He avoids his last name, as well, but that's barely noticeable - as he adds as much information as possible to his introduction, in the hopes of gaining some trust.
Fenn looks to the man who popped out of the bushes... but makes no reactionary movement ...clearly the youth is a bit calmer to the unexpected or danger taking it in stride.
He cocks his head a bit an smiles, "Howdy, right back at ya... mistah ! If'n yur a friend ta tha' mayur your among allies as it were! Welcome... but ya might consider in tha' future tha'...{aheh} 'wisdom' o' springin' out o' bushes on people in a land full o' banditry... might give folks tha' wrong idea...y'know!"
But he steps forward offering a warm handshake.
"Well, no common sense in us all standin' around out here in tha' chill when... there may be warmth an sup' waitin' inside. Let's go...!"
Fenn leads the way into the Inn... though her never takes his hand from the pommel of his shortsword.. he seems relaxed but wary non-the-less as he opens the door and walks in...
....
On entry seeing the young blonde-haired woman... he blushes slightly, and remove his hand form the pommel of his weapon, and bows, "Err.. Greetin's ma'am.. er miss.. don't mean ta' barge in but its kinda... chilly-like outside. Oh .. yea, Ah'm o' House Medvyed, pleased ta' meet ya... miss! We are here on behalf o' tha' Mayor o' . We're all powerful tired and hungry if'n ya got some vit-tals fur us ta' eat~ we can pay!"
The simple, but beautiful middle-aged woman that Fenn sees as he enters turns still stirring a large pot of what smells to him like venison stew.
"Master Fenn! Ze Lort Mayor sent vurd of your company's comink arrifal!" her thick Ulfen accent enhances her motherly image. She walks over to the outdoor tables and sets the large iron pot down before shouting above her head to the short wooden building to your right. "Oleg, ævintýramenn eru hér! Fá niður hér!"
The man you deduce is Oleg was atop the building, he begins climbing down the ladder behind him, with a hammer and a sack of nails on his belt. Not only that, but he must've been grumbling the whole way down. When he approached his wife, Oleg said more clearly if with clear sarcasm, "Ég veit, elskan, ég sá þá." Then to the settlers, he says with undertones of both disdain and despair, he says, "Velcome, ve've been expectink you, please, have seat, eat!" He gestures towards the tables with the stew, along with bowls and spoons you didn't notice before as they are obviously made from the same wood as the tables. "And of course you von't have to pay penny. Your assistance here vill be payment enough!"
As the rest of the settlers come inside the walls, Svetlana holds one finger up and runs into the building to the back right corner of the trading post. She emerges with warm loaf of fresh bread and a bottle of wine, she shouts at Oleg in Ulfen, he groans and begrudgingly goes in the same building and emerges with five wooden goblets.
Svetlana gets flustered and says, "Of course, of course! Ze horses can go in ze stables," she gestures to the building to your left, "And you'll be staying in ze guest houses dat my husbant vas repairing for you just now." She gestures to the building just in front of you.
"Hurry, now, before ze stew gets colt!"
All this back-and-forth only made Oleg grumble more in Ulfen.
Derra pushed back the hood of her cloak and smiled at the man named Oleg, greeting both him and his wife.
"Grrreetings Oleg! It is an honorrr to meet you and yourrr lovely wife! Oh wherrre arrre my mannerrrrs! My name is Derrrra Clawstrrriderrr of the Rrrruning Brrrook Catfolk trrribe. I do hope we can help you," she says before she begins eating.
Annurian greets Svetlana and, later, Oleg. Silent and a little shy, the calm man eats and drinks vigorously due to his obvious hunger. He observes with interest as the others introduce themselves to their host, and then particularly approaches to the table when Andreas inquiries about what help is needed.
When Derra revealed herself, Oleg instinctively went for the hammer on his belt, and held his arm out in front of his wife, shouting what you cam assume are skald expletives.
Svetlana pushes his arm out of her way, and looks at Derra more closely, "Vá! A catfolk! Some of the travelers in these parts tolt us stories, but I scarce belieft it! I'll be ze yak's tird horn!"
When the shock of Derra's appearance wore off, Oleg's brow furrowed as he addressed Sir Andreas, "Vhat do you mean, 'Vhat is it dat very can assist you in,' don't tell me ze Lort Mayor sent you for someting oder dan de bandits?"
Fenn smiles warmly, "Well thank ya kindly ma'am..."
No one who needs to be invited twice... Fenn takes a seat at the table digging in to fill his plate...
Commenting at Oleg's question, "Well were here ta' establish a new settlement by taming tha' wilds here abouts... but since we are hear...we can take care o' them bandits along tha' way as well.. if'n their troubling ya...!"
... all of that through the mouthfuls of stew and bread he is eating...
Derra quickly raised her empty hands hoping to show Oleg she didn't mean any harm. She had forgotten that not everyone had probably seen her kind before.
"My apologies forrrr frrrightening you both. It was not my intention to scarrrre you. And yes, therrre arrre others like me in these parrrts as well."
She sighed a bit once the couple's shock wore off. Derra was just glad that things hadn't escalated.
She quickly sat down and began to eat the stew, which was very tasty.
After Andreas told Oleg about how they could help she added, "What he said."
"Tame de--?!" Oleg throws his hands up in the air, turns away from the group and starts shaking his fists at the sky and shouting what you correctly assume are skald expletives.
"Forgiff my husbant, he's just very frustrated vis de Gentry at present, you see we've been racketed by a group of bandits for months. We appealed to ze Lort Mayor, and he sent vurt that he vas sending help. Ve tought he meant you all, but...and now I fear ve vill haff to vait anoder mont for dis 'help' ve vere promist."
Svetlana's polite explanation only throws Oleg into a renewed fit of rage.
Fenn will stand his expression serious and determined, "...Ah, don't think ... Ah made mahself completely clear ma'am . We are heah now... there is no reason we cannot deal with these bandits then get on to doing our other mission as well... IN FACT that is what Ah aims ta' do! Them wilds been there fur years... they'll be there fur another few weeks o' tha' Ah'm sure... if needs be. But You and yur husband's needs are now! If'n Ah have ta' do it alone... Ah at least will be stayin' to find them varmint bandits and put an end to them.. one way or another! You have Mah word ma'am!"
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Gird speaks with a measured but dead tone
"To look at this from the perspective of our mission only, we need a supply point, as far as I know this is the only one within leagues. To tame the lands around we need this place operating and not being raided by bandits for the supplies we will need. So how can we help?"
Oleg spoke with a calm, but smoldering voice, "Raidedt? Huh, I'm flattered, but no, they know good and vell ve can't defend ourselfs. No, dey just stroll up here near dawn of the first of de mont, demantink deir 'rent' for de mont. A few monts ago, dey came vid deir leader and about a dozen oders; dey demanded a share of my trade! I refused outright, of course, but dey treatened to--," he turned to his wife, and wrung his left wrist, "Anyway, suffice it to say, I haff been paying dem. Since den, dat tík has been sending her second in command along vid fewer and fewer oders. Last time, dere vere only a hantful."
The sound of claws scratching a table can be heard. The source: Derra angrily leaving several deep scratches.
"I do not like it when people bully otherrrrs arrrround. No one should have to live in fearrr or drrrrread that theirrrr loved ones will taken frrrrom them. I say we set up an ambush and pounce on them with grrrreat furrrry!"
One can easily tell that the catfolk has very little patience for bandits and their predations on the hapless and weak. Which is a bit ironic considering that she looks like a menacing predator.
"I never did a head count," Oleg said with dark sarcasm, "The only veapons I saw were your typical longbows, swords, daggers, and the leader, that filth, had a pair of small hatchets. As for, vhat vas vurd? Man-ner-is-ms? Dey are bandits, dey act like bandits. I don't know vhat you vant from me." Oleg gets frustrated and walks away steamed before Derra speaks.
Hearing her plan, he turns back, but doesn't speak before his wife claps her hands with exhausted joy, "Tank you so very much! You haff no idea vhat dis means to us! Please, eat, I vill make ready de guesthouse..." she counts up the people before her with a pointed finger, "Five...Oleg! Ve need anoder cot!"
She rushes in to the guesthouse and Oleg follows closely behind after retrieving a straw mattress and wooden frame from the storehouse.
Fenn nods yielding a slight smile for Sir Andreas' gesture of support and he ponders everyone else's reaction... listening at last to Derra's suggestion.
He rubs his chin... thinking then shakes his head, "Not ta' contradict ya' Miss ... cause Ah Hates Bullies jus' as much... but Ah think Ah got a betah idea...!"
Turning to Mr. Oleg, "... You go on ahead... like normal and pays them bandits their 'rent' tomorrow... don' worry you'll git it all back, Ah promise! When they leave~ thinkin' things is still tha' same as always; we will track them back to their camp lair! THEN WE will git EVERYONE'S Rent back... yurs included, Mistah , and them bandits will Nevah bother you or anyone else again... cause by nightfall ALL them bandits~ Leader included, will be swinging from a tree or taking a permanent dirt-nap in a shallow grave! Tha' way they have no warnin', no chance ta escape... and no hostages they can try ta' use against us from tha' townsfolk! We will put them ALL to tha' sword if'n they don' surrender ta' JUSTICE!"
Derra raised an eyebrow at Fenn's suggestion. While she preferred her ambush idea, she did see that his plan had a great deal of merit and could actually work in their favor.
She nodded in his direction, saying, "That might worrrk out. We will have to be carrrreful that we don't lose theirrrr trrrrail. But hopefully we can trrrack them down. Although I'm currrious to hearrrr if anyone has any otherrr suggestions to make. Just in case."