Holgar looks over at Creon and shrugs. "Tat was ta basic idea ah was going for ay, lets pack dis sorry lot up an get under way. Ahm lookin forward te a home cooked meal."
Annika wakes up feeling significantly better than she did when she went to sleep. "I believe that would be the best course of action. The sooner we get these men safely locked up, the sooner we can move on to hitting their allies' camps. And if the guards have arrives at the trading post, we'll have some reliable guards to keep an eye on them."
Gallidren nods, "Let's move out then."
Prophet awakens with the others the next morning, and he seems back to the way he was back at the trading post and on the road. While still fit as any half-orc might be expected to be, he's lost some of that warrior's edge, and once again the greatsword somehow looks a little out of place on his back. He takes breakfast with the rest of the group without comment and nods. "Agreed. We should get them back to the trading post, and move from there. Some of the points the woman mentioned yesterday seemed of interest."
Theo nods, enthusiastically digging into his meager breakfast. "I agree, we ought to get a move on." While tied a fair distance away, your horses have fared the night well, and seem prepared for a long day of traveling. With the bandits being led by horses, you make a slower pace on the way back than on your way towards the Thorn River camp, with the men occasionally tripping over underbrush or becoming fatigued from the pace. To make matters worse, as they day drags on you all notice a heavy cloud cover forming overhead, and within a few hours of your ride a heavy downpour falls through the tree cover to soak you all through to the bone. Forks of lightning occasionally light up the midday sky, followed by the crack of thunder moments later. While the bandits mostly attempt to keep quiet, they occasionally grumble now whenever they slip or find themselves stuck in the mud.
By the time you reach the trading post, it is late evening and the rain continues to pour. Another fork of lightning flares in the distance as you move to enter the trading post, only to be stopped by an armored man wielding a longsword. "Who goes there? This post is under the protection of the city of Restov!" As you look around, you spot several more armed men within the walls, one standing with a crossbow in a still-standing parapet. The man before you seems to wear some sort of sash, likely a badge of office. "I won't ask you again! State your business here!" The man barks his words to you, trying to be heard over the heavy rain and the crash of thunder.
Prophet scowls when the group is stopped by the apparent new arrivals, and he slides from his horse and steps up to them, reaching into his pack. "What's this, the post gets protection after the need is gone? Wonderful of Restov to finally reach out its hand. Too bad we already took care of the problem." He gestures back to the bandits, then slaps a roll of parchment into the man's chest--his charter. "You're here for Restov, we're here for all of Brevoy. Now get out of my way, little man."
Gallidren, unfamiliar with Oleg's trading post, watches the exchange between Prophet and the man with some concern, but then steps up to assist Prophet. "You heard him, we're on official business - out of the way!"
Creon watches, bemused, towards the back of the group, lost in his own thoughts. Strange, he thinks, that Restov would think to garrison the trading camp but not to take action against the bandit groups that seem to pepper the area.
"Official... you're the ones with the charter?" The man backs up a step, the look on his face saying he's likely heard of your handiwork earlier. "I-I'll need to see it; the charter, I mean. I can't let anyone else through until tomorrow at the earliest, that's what I was told. Do you have it on you?"
Prophet growls audibly. "What do you think I just hit you with? Or do I need to grind it into your head?"
Gallidren produces his charter and presents it to the guard, "Please good sir, allow us to pass."
The guard looks down at the charter handed to him by Gallidren, ignoring Prophet when he points out he had already been given the copy. He looks down at the paper given to him by the half-orc, and reads over the copy given to him. "Alright, go ahead I guess. Just don't cause any trouble; heroes or not I'll have to take you into custody." He says this with an air of authority he doesn't actually seem to have, but allows you all to pass by him anyway. The few brigands already captured are laboring under the watchful eye of one of the guardsmen, hauling the catapult of the shattered parapet up onto the walls via a system of pulleys. Oleg and Svetlana themselves don't seem to be outside anywhere, preferring the relative comfort of their home.
After a few moments, you see Oleg's face in the window, and a moment later he opens the door. "There ya are! Begun t'think they'd gotten the better of ya after all. What happened, where'd you end up? We weren't sure what to think when we closed up the gates last night and you all were still out there." He does a double-take as Creon and Gallidren enter, looking at them suspiciously. "And I see y'found some more comrades. Seems this'll be an interestin' story."
Creon decides - as usual - to leave the talking to his comrades. His attention drifts back to another recollection.
He’s in his cabin. The godsthing is there, having taken a kind of humanoid form, now, though still not quite opaque, lacking definition and hovering between existence and non-existence. Its eyes, though, are clearly discernible, dark hollows where eyes would normally be. Its voice echos in his head, a low metallic timbre.
”Nice move, but it’s not so easy to get rid of me.”
He stares at the creature, unable to speak or react. It speaks again.
”You’re interesting, though. Not you, precisely. A path you’ll take. And not just you - not even you in fact, you’ll be long dead - but others as well. People you’ll meet.”
The godsthing moves closer to him. He looks round urgently for a means of escape, but decides there are none.
"Has it ever occurred to you," it says, "as to why your makers ensured that their creations should not possess the capacity to fear?" It tilts its head, as if to question him. He doesn't respond.
"And yet, still, you shudder."
The godsthing stops, suddenly.
”I have something you need to see.”
It holds up a disc, facing straight on towards him, bathed in light. There’s some kind of message on the disc. The disc turns…
And the episode is ended. Creon can’t remember the message, or the exact nature of the writing on the disc. He can’t remember anything other than the specific conversation. Another piece in a puzzle. And he doesn’t even know whether it's a puzzle he’s meant to solve.
He shakes his head, to try to bring himself back completely and irreversibly to the present.
"That it will be. But before then, if you don't mind, I think a hearty victory meal is in order." Prophet looks to the others as he slides the charter back into his pack. "We had hard fighting yesterday, and warm bellies would do us good."
"Svetlana!" Oleg hollers, shouting towards the kitchen. "We're gonna need s'more food! They're back!" He looks again to Gallidren and Creon, and then shouts again. "And they brought some friends back with 'em!" Fairly soon after, a shout of confirmation comes from the kitchen, and you hear the clang of pots and pans as she hurries to prepare a larger dinner. "It'll probably be a good couple minutes 'fore she's done whippin' up somethin' bigger. Why don't you tell me what the Hells happened out there? And where you, well, picked these two up."
Another crash of thunder echoes outside the window, the flash of the lightning illuminating the courtyard as the guards outside mill about. Oleg winces for a moment, the flash closer to the trading post than he evidently finds comfortable. "Name's Oleg, by the way; who're you two, anyhow? If anything, I was expectin' them t'come back with less than they left with, not more." As you all talk, you can clearly see outside the window as the guards begin to take the bandits towards the back entrance of Oleg's home, likely taking them to the cellar where the old holding cells would be found.
Creon removes his mask and bows slightly, and somewhat awkwardly.
"Introduction: I am Creon, an archer of Numeria. I am honoured to meet you, friend Oleg."
He tilts his head a little as he speaks.
"Supplementary: and - though I am assuredly grateful - I am probably less concerned than the others about the food," he adds, almost as an afterthought.
When finished, he steps back, as though hoping the conversation is now complete.
"We weren't exactly expecting to find back-up," Annika says. "But things worked out fairly well in the end. Those bandits definitely won't be bothering you again. The survivors have been taken care of."
"Hmm... your a li'l strange, eh? Ah well. If'n none of 'em stuck a sword through yer belly I figure you're alright. What about you, then?" Oleg asks, turning to Gallidren. "You hear from Kyonin or somethin'? Not that it's none o'my business, but I'm surprised the two of ya were just out in the wilds. They're not exactly the best places to be, if you catch my meaning. Were you two explorers in your own right? I hadn't heard nothin' about any other groups being sent down here, but given it took two weeks for the guards to show up, and they happen upon the fort after the problem's dealt with..." He shrugs, casting a glance to one of the guards, wearing a different colored sash than the man you saw at the gate. "Kreston's not a... bad lad, but his men're dumber than dirt. Still, besides the point; got a name, stranger?"
Gallidren warily regards Oleg, "I'm Gallidren. Creon and myself are all that remains of a second expeditionary force that was chartered by Brevoy to explore and clear the stolen lands. We were exploring west of here, in the Narlmarches, when we came upon this group. I promise you that we'll abide by any arrangements you have with this other group and we will help defend your trading post. Speaking of which, may we speak with Kreston?"
As they enter the compound Holgar notices the work that the former bandits are doing on the walls and walks closer to the walls to take a look at the damaged parapet of the compound. As he examines the walls Holgar starts muttering to himself. "Hm, moving te catapult's a good move but we're gonna need te fortify an rebuild tis place if we're gonna be stayin' here for te forceable future." Holgar doesn't notice Oleg's presence until Oleg addresses Gallidren. He heads back over to the group as Gallidren responds to Olegs questioning, and add his own two cents. "Aye ah'd like to talk to tis Kreston, especially if he's te one in charge of reinforcing tis place."
"Kreston? I mean, the man ain't under my jurisdiction. He's here 'cause I asked for 'im, but that don't mean I'm in charge of 'im." As he says this, the last of the few guards crosses behind the house, just as the door shuts from Holgar's entrance. "I doubt he'd mind talkin' to you lot, but I can't say for certain. If you wanna talk to 'im, Svetlana'll probably have dinner ready by the time you get back."
"Bah." Prophet grunts and shakes his head. "If some of you wish to speak with the man, by all means. Perhaps our more honorable speakers would like to discuss things with him, and drop off the new laborers?" The half-orc looks sidelong at Annika and Theo, but hsi voice suggests he's jesting.
"As for myself, well." He glances back to the entrance. "I think I've already had enough of soldiers for the day. What I'd like now is a seat, a drink, a meal, and we can tell you what happened out there."
Creon frowns.
"Observation: Speaking personally, I do not feel responsibility for marshalling the pets we seem to have acquired. I have no particular need of additional sustenance - certainly I do not draw pleasure from it - but can stay here and help Prophet's account with some of the details behind our meeting."
He sits down.
Holgar glances back and forth between Prophet and Creon and shrugs. "Ah don' care what 'e does wit te prisoners ah am however a Dwarf an' if tere is one ting we Dwarves know it's how to build. Now ah'm gonna go find this Kreston fellow." Unless anyone else says something Holgar is going to head outside after the last group of soldiers he saw.
"I'll accompany you master dwarf," Annika says. "If we're going to be stationed here for some time, it's best to get to know the man who will be leading the guards while we're out hunting bandits and the like."
Gallidren will join Holgar and Annika. "Yes, I'm curious if he has any new information or instructions from our sponsors in Brevoy."
"If the rest wish to speak with Kreston, I'll stay here as well," Theo notes, seating himself at the dining room table. He unravels the white scarf from his neck, and looks to Prophet and Oleg as the others file out towards the cells beneath the house. "I could take something to drink as well, if it isn't much trouble."
Oleg disappears into the kitchen for a moment, and exits with a bottle of wine and four glasses. "A drink, while we wait," he says, sitting himself down at the table. He slides a glass to Creon, uncertain of whether he wil ltake it. "Y'said you didn't need it so much, but I figured it wouldn't hurt." After that, Oleg straightens up in his chair and looks at the remaining party members. "While the rest go bother Kreston, why not tell me what happened out there? We expected ya back last night, after all. Kreston figured you all got ambushed or somethin'."
-----
As the group descends down the stairs, you can hear the slamming of cell doors as the bandits are herded into the available cells. The cell doors creak in a way that suggests long period of disuse, and the locks grind with obvious hints of rust. "Make sure they're locked tight. Don't want anyone getting away in the middle of the night, after all." The man in charge, wearing a bright red sash compared to the white worn by the man at the gate, stands with a heavy tower shield at his side and a longsword at his belt. The shield bears the image of a snow-capped mountain, a crescent moon hanging low over the peak. "You must be the charter bearers, right? I heard you came back through; sorry for the trouble at the gate." He hooks a thumb towards the guard in the white sash, helping to shut one of the cells. "Sigmund's not a bad lad, but he's not the brightest. My name is Kreston, scion of..." he pauses for a moment, before shaking his head. "Never mind that. I'd have your names, if you'd give them."
Gallidren nods at Kreston, "I'm Gallidren. We successfully defeated a bandit camp southwest of here in the Narlmarches. Unfortunately, it sounds like there is a greater bandit stronghold south of here under the auspices of one called the Stag Lord. We have returned to gather provisions and to prepare for our strike on the Stag Lord's keep."
Annika offers a hand to the guard captain. "A pleasure to meet you Kreston. Annika Valarius of the Swordlords. It's good to have a friendly face out here. I have a feeling that this situation is only going to get more dangerous, at least until we drive off this Stag Lord."
Holgar goes to shake Krestons hand as well. "Names Holgar, an ah was hoping ah could 'elp wit te reconstruction of dis place."
Creon stares at the drink. No point drinking it, he thinks; it would only get refilled and he doesn't enjoy alcohol.
The others seem slow to respond and he feels he should say something.
"Summary: Friend Gallidren and I were, as has already been stated, with another group, chartered by Brevoy. We were unaware that there were multiple expeditions. We were ambushed by bandits and our comrades were slain in close combat with the enemy. Since we were operating at a distance, the wizard and I were able to effect an escape once it was clear that all was lost. We were on our way here when we encountered the other group."
"Subsequently: The combined group attacked the bandit base, whence it seems the remnants of the group that raided your post had fled. We killed most of the brigands. Friend Prophet here executed their leader. We let the remaining few live - despite my better judgement and in spite of my express preference" - he looks sidelong at Theo - "and brought back any spoils we discovered in the camp. We also discovered a map of the surrounding area."
He stops. Perhaps the trader had been expecting a livelier retelling. Too late now though.
"End statement: That is, I think, a complete account."
I... see. Didn't know Brevoy sent anyone else down here, neither. Surprised they didn't send you my way in the first place." Something on Oleg's face belies a sense of anger, but otherwise he seems to remain calm. "Y'said you found spoils, huh? Did you happen to find a wedding ring?" He looks to Prophet and Theo, hopeful. "I know it's prolly a long shot, gave it to 'er boss or somethin', but if it's around I'd love to get it back to her." Oleg takes a sip or two of his own glass, noticing but not commenting as Creon doesn't pick up his own.
-----
"Well, you're a motley crew, aren't you? Well, I'm glad you made it back in one piece, if nothing else." The other guardsmen manage to shut and lock the rusty old gate after a few moments more, the grinding of metal on rusted metal finally subsiding. "As for reconstruction? I figured the prisoners would do most of the work, but if you want to help direct them, at least while you're here..." Kreston looks at the ragtag group of bandits, most sitting in their cells quietly as the guards mill about. "It'd take a load off my shoulders. What are you planning on doing with them all, anyway? Send them back to Restov to be tried? Or are you looking for information?"
Prophet drinks deeply, and lets Creon give his own barebones account of what occurred at the bandit encampment. When Oleg asks about the ring, he shakes his head sadly and sets the cup down. "We didn't find it, Oleg. I would guess it was given to her leader, the Stag Lord. We'll find that bastard, though. And we'll get your ring."
"They are bandits, but not monsters," Annika replies. "If they are willing to cooperate, anything they could tell us could be useful. And perhaps an offer of some leniency to those that are willing to turn on the other camps. Otherwise, they need to stand trial for what they've done."
"Ah well... I figured as much. If you find, well, you know where I'll be." Oleg sighs, and drinks down the rest of his glass. He pours himself another, but refrains from drinking any just yet. "Then what're you gonna do, then? Did'ya find the fort or somethin'?'
-----
"Makes sense. They haven't said much today, since we got here. Mostly had 'em hard at work, so they weren't talking much. I've had someone keeping an eye on them though, making sure they're not talking about some kind of revolt." Kreston sighs, waving the other men under his command out towards the doors to the courtyard. "If you want to speak with them, feel free. I'll have them working on fixing up the walls again tomorrow, seeing if we can't get those trebuchets working again." He sets his tower shield against the wall, sitting in one of the chairs. "If you want, I can see if they know anything while you're out and about. I know you're all a bit busy, after all."
While waiting for Prophet to respond to Oleg's question, Creon's mind drifts again.
===
He and another android are dragging the body of a third, out through the forest. It's night but their path is illuminated by the light of the full moon overhead. The body, male, dark haired, has been badly beaten and subsequently killed.
He'd been present at the torture and subsequent murder. It was the third that week. The bandit group made it a habit with their android prisoners, using it as a kind of grim entertainment, getting drunk and then killing defenceless automata, from their stock of slaves.
His companion, helping drag the body, eyes him coldly. "Reminder: we are due for execution, in our turn, the day after tomorrow. You will be first. I have arranged for Colas and Velyn to bring your body out to the cradles."
He nods grimly. How many times has this happened to this body, how many of its inhabitants have been killed, then dragged out by his brothers and sisters to reform as a new soul, in the regeneration cradles deep in the wood? How many more times would the wheel turn? He resolves, next time, not to be caught by the brigands, to be used to kill, raid and pillage, and then to be exterminated again in his turn, for sport.
===
He's back in the present. He notices his hands shaking slightly as they grip the glass that Oleg had handed him. "Assertion: We should have killed them", he murmurs, under his breath. "We should have killed them."
Prophet nods. "Something like that." He glances to Creon as the android grips his glass tighter, and mutters, but he turns back to Oleg. "The b*tch had a map with several points marked out. More bandit nests in the region. We'll go have a look there, clean up the area. We know roughly where the Stag Lord rests, but we don't know exactly where, or how many men are there."
The half-orc leans back in thought for a few seconds. "He's a right bastard, but he needs a large force to do what he does. We kick his legs out from under him, he'll fall like anyone else."
Gallidren nods at Kreston, "Yes, I would just assume leave any further interrogation up to you. I am eager to get back into the field and strike the Stag Lord before he realizes that something is amiss."
Holgar grunts in agreement "Aye ah'd like ta help wit te reconstruction o' tis place but you all probably need meh help more haha someone ta keep you all from tunin' inta a bunch o' pincushions hahaha!"
Creon - conscious that he has failed to contain his anger - tries to focus his thoughts.
"Alternatives: either we establish the location of the Stag Lord and confront him directly, or else reduce his position by attacking and destroying his tributary camps, that we found on the map. My inference is that we are not yet in a position to stage a direct assault. We should therefore choose one of the camps, and remove it from play. I suppose we should wait for the others, however, before coming to a final decision."
He pauses, changing the subject.
"Question: Friend Oleg, while here can we trade the spoils we recovered from the bandit camp? Do you have goods for sale here?"
"I don't think I have anything that needs to be said to these men. I trust you to keep them in line and hard at work while we're away. Just make sure that you don't push them too hard. We do want them alive after all."
"I haven't sold much lately, what with Happs and his crew coming through every month. But I've got some stock I can sell, and a decent amount o'coin to pay you with. If I ain't got enough, I can send a bird off to Restov and they should be able to get me the coin within the week." Oleg takes another sip of his wine, before putting the cork back into the bottle and standing. "That reminds me, there's something I'd like t'give to you all. A little thank you, for uh... helpin' me out." He walks out of the room, re-emerging a few moments later with a small sack, the sound of clinking glass coming from within. He sets it down on the table between the three members of the party, and shrugs. "It's not much, but maybe it'll save yer hide like y'saved mine."
-----
"If you're alright with that, I'll see if I can learn anything new while you all are out... performing heroics." He sighs, then picks up his shield and hefts it back onto his arm. "I don't know how much I'll get out of them, but I can try. Is there anything you'd like me to try and find out? I heard Mr. Leveton muttering something about a ring earlier..."
Annika perks up. "Ah, that would be his wife's wedding band. It was taken by the bandits not too long ago and he was asking about getting it back. It was conspicuously missing from their camp when we captured them. If any of them know anything, we could use that."
"Alright, I'll do what I can. You lot ought to get back to the house; I imagine your dinner's probably been cooked." With that, Kreston trudges up the steps back into the rain, the rickety door squeaking as it swings open and shut.
As those in the cellar head back up to Oleg's dining room, they find the thre other party members gathered around the table talking, with a small burlap sack sitting on the center of the table near Creon and Prophet. "Ah, just in time. I think dinner's just 'bout ready, and you'll have yer token of appreciation." Oleg gestures to the bag, then looks between the newcomers and Creon. "He was jus' askin' about supplies, so if you need anything you let me know. I can prob'ly resell anything y'don't need, too."
As he sees the others arrive, Creon resumes:
"Restatement: we have the choice of hunting down the Stag Lord directly, or of following up one of the leads from the map we obtained at the camp. I suggest we do the latter. There was mention of three bandit expeditions: one was to the west and another to the south of the camp we took. These seemed to be targeting a village. A further group went north, to explore near a hermit's hut."
"Questions: Friend Oleg - can you tell us anything about the village, or the hermit?"
"Hermit? They're prob'ly talking about Bokken. Not a bad fellow, but usually keeps to himself. I dunno what they'd want with him, tell you the truth. He's not half bad at makin' potions, maybe they're trying to muscle some outta him?" Oleg shakes his head, then holds his head in his one hand. "You sure it said somethin' about a village? I ain't heard of any villages south of Restov; we're about the last bastion of anything civil in the Greenbelt. I'd say ask some of the local trappers about it, but I haven't seen Breeg in at least a fortnight, and he's the only one who really comes around here anymore."
"I propose we make a course for the village," Theo says, finally speaking up. "If Oleg didn't know they were there, it's unlikely they could call for any kind of help from Restov. They're at the mercy of those bandits, and I doubt they've a means of fighting back." He places his hands on the long wooden table, and looks over the party in turn. "We should help this Bokken fellow as well, but even a small village must have two or three dozen people. We can't leave them at the mercy of brigands."
At Theo's suggestion Holgar grunts in agreement as he sits down at the table. Holgar glances at the bag that Oleg set on the table then around at the rest of the party. "Ah don' know bout te rest o' you but ah'm damn curios as to what's in dat bag. As he says this Holgar reaches forward and drags the bag closer, opens it up and looks in.
Gallidren nods at Theo's suggestion, "We need to help this village. Let's move out at first light."
Creon considers for a second.
"Observation: we do not even know if there is a village. But I am intrigued. We know there are two of the bandit groups in that direction and I agree we should go and investigate."
He looks at Holgar, to see what is in the bag.
"If there are villagers might be in danger, then we should investigate as soon possible. It is our duty to protect the people of the region, is it not?"