Rangnar will start a small outside dojo for the perfection of the bodies of those who want it. While perfecting peoples bodies he will try to add a little perfection of the mind as well. He will also take up daily study, and discussions with everyone he finds willing. His discussions will range over all aspects of life, magic, the gods, and creation.
Brigid initially takes little interest in town planning. Taking possession of her new breastplate, she has it fitted and soon is never seen without it. She oversees the creation of an archery range, and enlists several craftspeople to build some target dummies for both close-range and long-range practice. The close range dummies have a variety of blunted polearms protruding at various lengths and heights, and are attached to a pulley system so another person can set them spinning.
Brigid practices with them like a woman possessed, and though at first she received her fair share of bruises, before long she could dodge and weave the threats all the while sending shaft after shaft into the practice dummy.
Though she does not encourage it, soon the youths of the growing village watch her practice sessions with rapt attention. At first she tries to chase them away from the target range, especially when they would sneak in to test their own skill. Eventually, and after numerous black eyes and bruised ribs amongst the town youth, she capitulates and begins instructing them.
She purchases all the short bows that Oleg can procure, plus cuts and strings a number of bows herself to distribute amongst the children. She is a difficult taskmaster, and not all hopefuls are allowed to continue to train. But eventually, a small group of talented archers emerge from the throng of youth, who call themselves the bogaskytta, adopting one of Brigid's words for themselves.
As the seasons change, she grows more and more restless, however. She rides frequently to the farthest outlying farm in each direction, and ranges both north and south on Zelter. At first she rarely used the Stag Lord's helm, out of concern that his legacy would provoke fear in the local population. But as the time passed, it became more and more a good sign to see a horned rider on the horizon.
The next few weeks pass in a bit of a blur. Helping out around the Trading Post and assisting in the many day-to-day problems takes a great weight off Oleg and Jhod, as it seems that these 2 men were shouldering most of the work.
New buildings crop up, and even some small, outlying farms spring up as the settlers claim the territory for themselves. A loose militia is also formed, surprising under the leadership of ex-paladin and former bandit, Akiros Ismort.
All seems to be going well for the new settlement, and even the Sootscale kobolds send a representative to the town to start a trade in silver for finished goods and food.
All seems fair and good as later spring blossoms into a beautiful summer then fades into a golden autumn. The settlement of Olegstown holds some 100 permanent residents, and with your help has been molded into a fine community.
Also Kent will craft himself a Headband of Vast Intelligence +2. If anyone else wants me to craft a wondrous item for them just give him 50% of the market price.
With the end of their task, Damen found himself more than usually brooding, and not even Brigid's uncommon liveliness could shake him. In the first weeks, Damen shunned most company and spent his time in the wilds. He would return rarely, at times with meat or furs, but could more often be found helping those farmers whose homes were built in the unspoiled terrain, or supporting the efforts of Jhod to restore the temple of Erastil. He disappeared for days at a time, once following worried reports of a "horned warrior" who, in time, proved to be Brigid; but it was not until the middle of summer that he returned to town with any permanency.
Something had happened in the trackless southern lands, and he was a changed man; but outwardly he seemed not much different than he had been on campaign. His humor was restored, his smile quick, and he seemed to relish the bustle of the small town no less than he shunned it before. But that this was now a home to him was clear: he showed off little magical tricks to delight the young and old alike, and if he showed angry new scars here and there, he paid them little mind.
The names and lives of the people in Olegstown, human, kobold, and other, quickly came to be known to him, from first to last, until he could greet every person by name, and by clever investigation sought to know their holy days, favorite foods, and even their hopes, fears, and desires.
The most obvious difference was a new companion, a gravely wounded black she-wolf, who at first cleaved to the ranger but who fiercely resisted all attempts at magical healing. As she healed and grew more familiar with the town, and vice versa, she could be seen padding silently on nameless errands of her own, or of Damen's, or simply to enjoy the warmth of the midsummer and the affections of incautious children whose tutting parents would as often as not hustle them off.
He, with a laugh and a wink, would assure these parents that gentle Zasha was no more harm to the children than a good meal. As if on cue, she would roll over to show her belly, peering eagerly for a nuzzle and a pat. The wolfess tended to the town's children as though they were her own lost pups, nipping them home at sundown, seeking them when lost, playing with them when found.
Damen turned his attention to Akiros and the militia, working with him to teach them how move through the land: how to remain unseen, how to track and to hide tracks, how to spot and plot an ambush. If they were to protect a wild land, they would have to be Wildsmen.
In his free hours, he would still wander in company of Zasha; or drill with Brigid when she would have him; or argue philosophy, religion, or any other topic with Rangnar; from Kent he sought insight into magic; from Svetlana, more insight into the magics of her goddess, the pleasure of cultured companionship, or just lent whatever small influence the name Medvyed could add to Orlovsky in founding trade routes.
"Brigid I have recently been working on magical items to improve our effectiveness and I think that I could be make you a belt of dexterity. I just need 2000 gp for the materials and I'll provide the labor free."
Brigid eyes the wizard dubiously. That vould be an expensive belt, Kent. It vill be magic? Vhat vill it do?
In truth, she hadn't yet decided on what to do with her newfound riches, so allowing Kent to craft something wondrous seemed like a good enough idea. She drops the sacks of coin off at the wizard's home after thinking about it some. It is initially difficult for her to admit that she would need any magical assistance to her already impressive prowess with the bow, but eventually she relents and agrees that not using magic when it was available is just as foolish as not using an available weapon. So she nods, and defers to Kent's greater understanding of the forces at work.
"Or I could make you some bracers to improve your aim"
Brigid's eyes glitter as she thinks of her already considerable aim being further augmented. She nods in agreement, then leaves the wizard to his craft.
"I'll get to that then."
Brigid leaves the wizard to his work and doesn't bother him, leaving him all the time he needs to craft the item. When he eventually shows up and presents the ornate bracers, her eyes widen in awe and she nods in appreciation.
When she ties them to her forearms, she feels a slight tingle in her fingertips while her vision grows sharper. It matched the way the helmet improved her senses, though slightly better. That same visual acuity improved her aim noticeably at her next practice. She especially noticed that the number of bullseyes doubled while wearing the bracers.
As the leaves turn to shades of red, orange and yellow, Brigid eyes the north. The air, cool at night, sets her on edge. When she next encounters Svetlana, still prancing about in a summer's dress, she stops her. Your goddess tells you to follow your passions, no? This town is... not mine. I feel I must travel. The more I stay, the more I brood. It is... unpleasant. Are there not regions of the Greenbelt ve have not yet charted?
Brigid found Svetlana beside the small shrine to Calistria she had set up near a small dirt track just outside the main constellation of new buildings. The priestess did have on a nearly scandalously thin dress of rather little material, particularly striking given the colder weather. Those that knew her were little surprised, either by her lack of modesty or her magicks that enable her to ignore changes in temperature. Something of a celebrity of Olegstown due to both her alluring looks and endearing personality, it was somewhat odd to find Svetlana alone. But alone she was at the shrine, arranging a large hairpin in her blonde tresses with a wide smile across her face. As she saw the northern woman she exclaimed, Isn't it grand? The Savored Sting has seen fit to bless me yet again! Like the circlet I discovered earlier, this one too has magic. Watch! Before Brigid's eyes Svetlana transformed, taking on the appearance of first a serving girl, then a male guardsman, then even a kobold, all in convincing fashion. What fun this will be!
Seeing Brigid's less-than-enthused reaction, the priestess stayed quiet while the red-haired woman explained her restlessness. My goddess certainly endorses following one's passions. Perhaps it is time for us to leave here. Day to day I have found goals that occupy my time, trade routes, clothing stores, fineries and the like. And this shrine. But perhaps a change in scenery is in order! Should we talk to any of the boys before we go? A few of the newcomers are nice to look at, but maybe no good in a real fight. Kent is...well, Kent. But he does know magic well. And the dwarven ascetic, Rangnar, he might wish to see more of the world too. What say you?
Brigid does react in surprise to Svetlana's new magic item. She startles a bit at the first transformation, then settles down a bit after her other demonstrations. You do not seem to be one who vould favor an appearance other than your own, she observes dryly.
Turning back to the matter of travel again, she considers the priestess' suggestions. Perhaps. I believe I have made peace vith Kent. He crafted me these, she displays the ornate bracers on her forearms. I vould velcome him along. I do not know the others, though Damen may also vish to come. I have not spoken vith him since he tamed that volf. Brigid says that last part with a look of distaste. Wolves were not held in favor in her homeland.
Your right Svetlana, I have been enjoying my rest in this growing town very much, but my path to perfection is still relatively unchallenged. Admittedly with you, my worthy friends, to discuss the mysteries of life with, but I still feel Irori is encouraging me to find the greater challenges that may lie just beyond the next hill .
Damen's business had taken him from the town, from his home, for a few days, seeking game and putting Zasha through her paces. Once, in the distance, he'd spotted what he thought might be an owlbear, and declined to pursue it; from the wolfess's soft growl, he suspected she agreed with the choice.
She was brighter than other wolves he'd encountered, or seemed to be, and he wondered at the sense of kinship. Certainly, shared hardship contributed to that, but at times he could've sworn she almost read his mind. For that matter, his impulses suggested that it went both ways: he could predict somehow when she was hungry, or angry, or contented. As he had first bound her wounds, she'd been untrusting, ready to lash out, and even with his particular ability to handle animals he'd narrowly dodged the odd bite only through that intuition.
He looked at his animal friend, sleek and alert and moving silently through the land like the native she was. Beneath the fur, scars lingered, scrawled across her hide by brutal claws, but they were hidden now. No one would ever guess, looking at her. For a moment, he felt as though there was something deeper hidden in that fact, whispers not of the land but of a grander thing, as though the land and the creatures and the skies and the cities were connected... but the wisps of thought were interrupted by Zasha making a quiet hrmph noise as if prodding him to awareness.
He let the interrupted feeling drop, though it'd been coming to him now and then for months - since he'd first found he could use magic, if only in a basic way. It was no stranger to him. He'd grasp it again.
He looked around to see what prompted the wolf's nudge. On the horizon, Olegstown sat. That was no longer entirely a stranger in this land either. To the contrary, it seemed to be prospering, and the farmers largely welcomed his occasional patrols, alone or when he traveled in the company of Akiros's Wildsmen (as he'd privately taken to calling them).
His thoughts turned to his own companions, though he'd spoken with them only sparingly. Shared hardships had formed bonds there, too, but the business of the growing town, of their own affairs, had pulled them apart a little.
Ulryk was gone, settled into another life now, no doubt; Svetlana had turned her eyes to the trappings of civilization; Kent... well, the wizard was a closed book to someone like Damen, though the two had collaborated to make some item or other for Brigid; but it was Brigid, particularly, who had seemed... not hostile, perhaps, but he'd caught the look of distaste she'd thrown when they briefly crossed paths in town. Something seemed to poison the air, there, though with a little smile he found himself wondering how you could tell for sure with that one. He wondered how to clear things.
Nothing came to mind.
He let his thoughts quiet, and rode in comfortable emptiness with Zasha for awhile. At last, he reached the town, and traded his haul of venison for goods and a few coins. His mount stabled, he washed the grime of the road from himself, and wandered the streets.
It was there that he came across some familiar faces (though most of them in town were, these days) - Brigid, Svetlana, and Rangnar, gathered near the little shrine that the priestess had created. It wasn't a place he frequented, precisely, though he'd noticed a few people offering prayers there.
He approached, scratching at his newly-shaved face, and tipped Svetlana a wink when she looked his way. "Freshly home, freshly clean, and friends as well. A nice day, that," he observed with a grin.
Zasha sat back on her haunches, yawning.
As Damen nears, Brigid shifts her stance slightly, almost imperceptibly, to one more guarded and wary. She nods curtly to Damen when he speaks.
Thank you for your counsel, she says stiffly to Svetlana. I should be going. I vill see you all later, she addresses the small gathering, then withdraws to move back toward town.
Damen looked at Brigid, lips pursed for just an instant in thought. In a subtle kind of fear. He could let her go, and leave things as they'd been for the past weeks. It was a comfortable sort of discomfort, and provoking her wrath seemed, ah, counter-productive. Uncertainty might have been preferable to... certain certainties. Unconsciously he shook his head, only a little, dismissing the thought.
Better to know! Maybe it was Svetlana's influence on him, master of cajolery that she was; or maybe it was Kent's, blunt directness apparently without caring of the consequences. And if the monk was here to witness the fight... well, then he was. And just like that, the decision was made - and he found that the words had been rattling about his head for days, or longer, in content if not in form.
A practiced smile burst from the pursed lips, and casting his words after the warrior he said, "Retreating before we've even crossed swords, hmm? That hardly seems sporting." A beat... a breath... carefully, now... "Or are we still friends, instead? We've, ah, certainly shared enough blood for it, I would say." He did his best to keep his smile casual, but he was no showman and was coldly certain his worry shined through like a beacon behind glass.
Brigid halts mid-step and slowly turns around. Her face is tight, and her eyes move from Damen, Svetlana, Rangnar, once briefly at the wolf, and then back to Damen. She releases a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.
She couldn't believe he was doing this now. In front of Svetlana alone, perhaps that would be understandable. But she knew Rangnar little, and disliked airing a confrontation before near strangers. She knew she wasn't being fair to Damen, but she had hoped that, given time, she could get used to it. But he had pressed.
She sighs and steps away from the others, inviting Damen to follow her with her body language. Once they had moved several paces away from the shrine of Calistria, Brigid turns her head to him, though she glances once at the wolf loping along behind him.
Years ago, I vas attacked by a volf. Had it not been for... she pauses, and swallows hard. Anyvay, I fought it off long enough. I vas saved. I have been taught that volves are dangers. They cannot be tamed. Vhen you see one, be on guard for there vill be more you do not see.
She keeps her eyes focused on Damen, but stays aware of the wolf's location. So yes, ve are friends, but your new companion makes me... uncomfortable.
As Brigid spoke, Damen rubbed the back of his neck, glancing at Zasha when the northerner mentioned being attacked by a wolf. As if understanding the import of the words, Zasha trotted away toward the others to sniff idly at what passed for a road.
Several long moments of silence passed, his eyes studying Brigid's features. The ranger's lips parted slightly, but no words immediately came to mind. He hadn't really thought this far ahead.
"I'm... sorry for what happened to you. But Zasha isn't just some wolf. She's only with me because, ah, her pack is gone." He turned to look at Zasha, busy pawing at something that had caught her attention. "Her pups are gone. By Erastil, I almost died out there, too." His eyes returned to Brigid.
"You're right that wolves are dangerous. But Zasha's loyal to me. She'll be just as loyal to our pack. Our, ah, party."
Brigid's mouth is a tight line. She shakes her head slightly, not understanding the bond Damen seems to share with the wolf. She takes a long look at the beast, and lets the old memory -- the old fear -- crawl over her as the cool autumn wind tugs at the wispy hairs that escaped from her braid. For a small while the sensation is almost welcome; drifting back to the time of her life in Whitehelm. But all too quickly it settles like lead in her belly as the anguish of loss.
She thrusts it away and shakes off her reverie. If you say so.
Kent will also craft for himself Sleeves of Many Garments because although his magic keeps his clothes clean and mended he is growing tried of aways wearing the same thing, but having many suits seems like too much of a pain.
He will also craft himself a Traveler's Any-Tool. Because it's good to be prepared.
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As the group is outside discussing their future, Oleg comes running up with the same young guard you first met when you arrived back at Olegstown.
"You must come quick! There has been a murder."
The guard turns to return to the town, and you suspect take you to the site of this foul deed, but Oleg just waves you on.
"You'll get there a might quicker without me slowing you down. Besides I still need to find Kent. I think he is holed up in his 'school' creating gods knows what!"
The guard, Randolph, trots back to the far side of the growing village into a copse of woods just a short way off. Before you even see the sight, you can smell the body and blood.
The glen looks to have been a pleasant area, and you remember some telling you that it was a popular meeting place for young lovers. It now looks like the inside of a charnel house! Blood is carpeted throughout the area, and the grass is trampled into a bloody-muddy mess. The remains of what you can only assume is a body is in a lump near the center of the clearing. Several townspeople stand around; gawking, crying or simply staring in disbelief.
Before more could be said, Oleg arrived with news of the murder. "God's blood," Damen muttered under his breath, beckoning to Zasha.
The wolf grew keenly alert as the party approached the murder site, her ears and nose twitching. Before long, the reason became obvious: the smell was strong, but it was matched by the brutality of the scene. The ranger frowned at the sight of such a peaceful place turned into... what it had become. He wasn't sure what the word would be for it. He took a deep breath, putrid with the stink of death, and steeled himself.
Damen's eyes flicked from the onlookers to the carnage to his companions. "This looks more like a mauling than a murder. But what kind of animal would do this?" he said. "I'll... have a look at the body." He scratched his cheek. "Svetlana, maybe you could, ah, talk to the people there? Edita," he pointed at a woman, "might be a good start. She has a keen eye. Maybe she saw what did this. The man with her is her husband, Vilgelm."
Brigid's steely resolve asserts itself as she immediately barks orders to the crowd. Go! Get avay from here! Step lightly! she directs, as she immediately begins surveying the ground for signs of unusual tracks.
Svetlana kept a smooth demeanor as Damen joined the group at the shrine, winking back at the man in a casually flirtatious way. But she too had seen the tension, and not a good one, between the man and Brigid. As had often happened when the two saw each other, Brigid had attempted to make a stiff (even for her) exit. But unlike all the other times, Damen confronted the northerner. The priestess kept silent, knowing that this needed to happen if they were to work together at all in the future. If Svetlana was to leave Olegstown for more hazardous adventure, she wanted both of them along.
As Brigid ushered Damen outside, the priestess took the opportunity to engage Rangnar in a bit of small talk to give the other two a chance to talk. But the opportunity didn't last long as Oleg came with the horrid news. Svetlana ran just behind Brigid and Damen as they headed toward the copse. It was a place she knew well. She had counseled several younger couples to steal their clandestine kisses there and, truth be told, had stolen a few herself. The priestess did not attempt to hide her disgust at what she saw, but again said nothing. As the ranger and the archer went to work assessing the awful scene, Svetlana was already moving before Damen requested assistance. Seeing the crowds, she announced in a commanding voice. Now, everyone back! Let us leave the investigation in capable hands; there is no need to take in more of it yourselves. As she herded the crowd away, the priestess began speaking with the various citizens, a combination of both consoling and questioning.
Brigid bares her teeth in a snarl as she glances up to bore a gaze in Damen's back. She shakes her head brusquely and goes back to studying the tracks. She got no pleasure from being right. She unslings her bow and grips it tight as she follows the tracks away from the hollow.
Rangnar will only make sure nobody disturbs the scene beyond, any more than it already has been. As Rengnar makes a round of the scene he will look for suspicious behavior of those gawking.
|
|
No one here seems to really know anything, except who the "body" may be. The all seem to be agreed that it is a young woman by the name of Petra, the daughter of a local farmer who's steading is just outside town. She comes in every few days to sell eggs for supplies. She is also a flirt, and any number of young men could be linked to her...even if her father does not know.
You get the same feeling from all the people present...horror and fear.
Brigid is able to follow the tracks down to a small stream where they disappear into the water. The stream is visited by many people, and there are a jumble of prints on both sides of the water, but you cannot find the huge paw prints that you had been following.
Brigid will range up and downstream a bit to see if she can rediscover the tracks. If not, she'll return to the copse to see if the others have learned anything. Her face is severe.
As the crowd thinned out, hopefully at least partially due to Svetlana's urgings, the priestess began to think on what she had learned. Petra's death saddened her; the girl had been something of a protégé and Svetlana stifled a fear that her encouragement of Petra's flirtations may have led to this. Her mind rifled through possible suspects, but none seemed obvious.
After they had finished their investigations, the priestess gathered Rangnar, Brigid and Damen together to confer on what they all discovered. Svetlana briefly winced when Brigid mentioned wolves as the cause, knowing the wedge that would further drive between the northern woman and Damen, but held her tongue. As much to change the subject as anything else she said, perhaps we should talked to Petra's family. They may know something of her habits, and would likely need consoling in any event.
Kent comes over wearing a trench coat and welding a magnify glass.
"The game is afoot."
Thoughtfully, Damen examined the wounds on the body, hoping to either find the source of the wounds or some useful clue. Although he'd seen his share of brutality, from animals and people both, and although he'd killed, something about this murder bothered him. Annoyed him. Outraged him, even. This was his home, and something, someone, dared to do such a thing? Zasha hung back, either cowed by the amount of blood or his own mood.
Though he could not see her, he nevertheless felt Brigid's glare as he went about his work. Perhaps it was for the best that Zasha walked small for the moment.
Later, he nodded to Svetlana's suggestion, raising his hands to run them through his hair before remembering the blood on them. His mood was somber, seething within. "It's... somewhere to start, at least. I need to clean up."
Game, Kent? Brigid spits out, probably more harshly than warranted, but she is on edge. Someone is dead, and the tracks show it vas a volf that did this.
She actively avoids looking directly at Damen. Instead, she circles the copse of trees again, looking for signs of additional paw prints, that might indicate a pack.
If she comes up empty, she returns to the group.
Kent check for magic with detect magic. I don't expect it, but it might be a poly-morphed or fey wolf or something.
Brigid returns from ranging around the area. It appears to have been a single volf. Strange for one to come this close to a settlement. It is not the lean time of year. Perhaps it is diseased.
She frowns, and follows the others to their destination.
"Can you track it?"
Brigid shakes her head. No. I traced it to that stream, but lost its tracks in the vater. Many people use the stream, so the ground is disturbed.
She grips her bow tightly, knuckles whitening. Ve should have the people stay inside at night, and only the guards and ourselves should be out, to find and slay the beast.
I vill get Zelter to ride and visit the herdsmen in the area. See if they have any missing or slain stock. Maybe I could pick up its trail. I vill let you know, Brigid announces, then hustles to where her horse is stabled.
Kent goes to the Inn looking like a police officer. Being around a police man alway brings ones misdeeds to the forefront of ones mind.
He cast extended detect thoughts
"I am investigating some murders."
Kent scans the minds around to see if anyone knows anything.
19 works so the spell is successful.
Any other guilty thoughts?