Mules tied in a short train to his mount, Alexei spends the journey to the fort becoming acquainted with the particulars of mules and horses. Though not totally unfamiliar, they are certainly not something he worked with everyday.
At the officer's challenge, Alexei moves forward to display the charter. Knight Captain Garrek? I am Alexei. As the charter states we have been commissioned to map out the Greenbelt and deal with the bandits operating from there. We were to meet another member of the charter here. Do you know if he has arrived yet?
Raven barely acknowledges the other adventurers as she begins packing her belongings into the horse's saddlebags, double-checking everything to make sure that she'll be at least somewhat comfortable on the road. She is clad in her new breastplate, its dented surface buffed to a polish, and her old sword has been replaced by a sharper, higher-quality blade, through still of a massive size.
When the party leaves Restov and the boy gives her the carved figure, Raven looks perplexed for a moment before examining it. A rare smile cracks the young woman's normally stoic face before she tenderly wraps it in a linen bandage and carefully packs it into her belt pouch.
During the journey to Fort Sarenko, Raven is silent, as usual. She gives short, clipped answers in response to any questions that are asked of her, if the answers are not in the form of some glare that somehow conveys multitudes. She's the one who takes the longest watches, breaks, and sets up camp every night. After that strenuous exercise, however, she still does not stop. She spends a good thirty minutes maintaining her equipment, paying special attention to her new blade, before getting up and spending another thirty minutes practicing with it, using many different forms from many different cultures and races that would seem impractical for such a large sword. Yet, she pulls it off anyways, wielding her blade with astounding grace and fluidity. When it is finally time to bed down, the young mercenary seems oddly reluctant to take off her armor to sleep.
After the party finally approaches the fort, Raven doesn't bother explaining pleasantries with the outriders, simply giving them a nod in thanks for their information. Once Fort Sarenko is reached and the commanding officer sees them, Raven stays behind Alexei, and instinctively scans the fort for its defensive capability, the skill of its men, and its ability to withstand a siege while the two are talking.
Vasilyan's mind was filled with dark images after the encounter with the madman and his skeletal minions. I never imagined such a folly, such a depraved cruelty existed in out walls, within the walls of our cities, under the ground of our communities. My father was used to say that heroes are stupid. That no one needs heroes. That heroes are troublemakers creating more problems than the ones they can solve. But I can't agree on that. I just cannot, not after what I've seen. This country, this land, this people need heroes. I'm not gonna be one, but I'll try my best to help protecting my land. That's why I have to leave. That's why I cannot stay and accept my rightful claim to my ancestral lands.
He spent the vast majority of his time thinking about what he had experienced. He was left with little time to make purchases. Well, maybe this Oleg will have something for me.
---
Before he could even realize, he was traveling to Fort Sarenko. He spent almost all of his time in silence. Occasionaly, he spoke to Raven, talking about her new fighting skills.
---
When the group eventually approaches Fort Sarenko, Vasilyan nimbly dismounts in order to shake hands with the officer. "Vasilyan Medvyed. Honored to make your acquiescence, officer..." he paused to allow the officer to introduce himself. He knew only too well that men are inclined to act more responsably after having revealed their names. "As Alexei said, we have an official charter detailaing both our duties and our rights." His voice is cold as the wind from the north, his tone gruff even though very polite. He scretched his beard, looking around nervously. Small talk had always made him feel uncomfortable.
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Vorsirion hadn't slept at all the previous night. Now part of the caravan headed toward the Stolen Lands, the elf kept his own company.
He had stood outside the Tipsy Kobold for ten minutes, just looking in. It had looked familiar--he thought he knew why.
But why should he care about events that happened in a previous lifetime? That life was over now. Still, Vorsirion couldn't help but feel unsettled by what it could all mean.
---
He tried to focus on the details of the mission at hand. He looked over his companions one more time, trailed out on their mounts ahead of him. He had seen their competence in battle, at least.
At Fort Sarenko, he let the others do the talking.
Knight Captain Garrek? I am Alexei. As the charter states we have been commissioned to map out the Greenbelt and deal with the bandits operating from there. We were to meet another member of the charter here. Do you know if he has arrived yet?
Garrek chews on his mustache a bit. "Greenbelt? Yes, I'd heard some rumblings about about expansion into that godsforsaken land. My men and I have been running on insufficient resources for several years, and matters have only gotten worse of late. Damned nobles playing politics are draining the borders dry. We can barely patrol a half day past this post." He thinks a moment. "I received word that your group and one other would be meeting here. I do [b]bigger]not[/bigger] approve of my post being used as some sort of social gathering, but an order is an order. They have not arrived yet, but should his evening, or so I am told. In the meantime, you are welcome to the accommodations of the Fort."
After surveying the fortress, Raven pipes up, "Aye, you seem a bit understaffed here. By my count, you only have enough men to operate two of your ballistas if you have the majority of them guard the gate. I can help drill them in return for letting us stay, if you'd like." Raven casually brushes her Flame's Fury tabard as she says this.
Vasilyan nods firmly as he hears the man complaining about nobles playing politics all the while ignoring their land's true problem. His family has always been thinking along that way, and since he had returned in Brevoy, things didn't seem to have change. Not a bit.
Rather than accepting the man's offer to use the spartan accomodations of the Fort, Vasilyan puts a hand on the Knight Captain's shoulder. "I'd rather help you in patrol than bask in idleness. Erastil blessed me with good sight, and I do not carry this bow for mere embellishment. You can count on me, Knight Captain, at least until my duties will claim me elsewhere."
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Vorsirion knew little of operating a ballista or drilling troops, though he could see that there were not as many men here as there should be.
This expedition--there is not much help to call on should it fail.
Still, he could see the value in befriending the nearest help.
"I will also assist in any patrols you require," the elf says. "I have experience in scouting operations, should that prove helpful."
The elf's aloof manner does little to break the ice, however.
"Thank you for your hospitality. Anything you can share about the Greenbelt, particularly the bandits, would be helpful." Alexei waits to see how Garrek responds to the others' offers before making any of his own.
The Knight Captain sighs at the keen tactical observations of the party. "Protecting the border has fallen in importance and nobles have drawn more of their support close to home, never mind the rats that nibble at the fringes of the nation. Our reach is limited to a half day's ride. Beyond that, I've heard rumor of a congregation of bandits, though we lack the resources to deal with them." He seems clearly upset about the inability to deal with the bandits.
"I thank you for your offer of aid. There is a patrol I will be joining tomorrow towards Oleg's Trading Post. We can ride together a half day."
As you are talking with the Knight Captain, a blonde half-elven woman on horseback comes through the gate of the Fort, escorted by a pair of knights that see the Captain, salute, then return out the gate. She has apparent travel gear and possessions.
The Knight Captain mutters low, under his breath.
Then he clears his throat. "Ah, it appears or other guest has arrived. I'll leave you to aquaint yourselves. Dinner is at the sixth bell in the mess, and you are permitted to attend." He turns to inspect one of his men, clearly having given you as much time as he was willing.
Raven's fists tighten slightly, but she makes no outward appearance of anger other than that. Giving a terse nod to the captain, she strides forward towards the newcomer, blood crimson tabard fluttering in the wind and polished, dinged breastplate reflecting the son, her hair waving in the wind and her huge, finely-crafted sword on her back.
The mercenary looks her up and down shrewdly, assessing her armor, weapons, combat capability, and likelihood of spell use in a single look. Grunting, "You'll do," Raven offers a hand to the blond half elf. This close, the newcomer can see that Raven is also one of her kind. "My name's Raven Sirkas, of the Flame's Fury. From what I understand, it's considered polite to offer your's in return."
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Vorsirion watches the newcomer arrive, though with little interest.
Instead, his eyes linger on the back of Raven's head as the mercenary walks toward the mounted woman.
Abruptly, he scowls and turns on his heel, then walks toward the settlement's gate, where he looks out toward the south with a dour expression.
The rider is a beautiful young woman with fine features showing she hasn't had the harshest of upbringings. Her left cheek is marred by the remnants of a somewhat faded bruise, showing that she has faced some violence in not too distance past. She's wearing sturdy leather armor over simple clothing, somewhat at an odds with her her fine skin and well-tended long hair flowing down to a bit longer than shoulder-length. On her back she carries a crossbow with a quiver of bolts strapped to her belt. Also along her belt are a wide variety of different pouches and bags, they could very well contain spell components, though it's hard to tell from the nondescript containers.
One thing stands out with her much more than her beauty or her simple adventurer's appearance. A huge serpent lies at the back of her horse, it's mostly black, though a complex pattern of bright blood-red scales break up the dark colors.
The woman dismounts somewhat awkwardly, whatever her upbringing, she isn't much used to actually riding horses. Once down on the ground, she remains next to the horse so the snake-like creature can use her to get down again.
She manages finish getting both of them to the ground right before Raven approaches. There she turns towards the woman and offer her a kind smile and curtsy. Despite her rough treatment recently, she still follows her mother's teachings that being nice to people is much more likely to get you what you want. Her smile falters somewhat by the other woman's odd first words, but she manages to pick it back up. She takes the other woman's hand in her own and shakes it. "I'm Elvara Rivers. It's nice to see another woman here." She looks hard in the direction of the Knight Captain. "Men..." She whispers before her words trail off.
She takes a step back and put a hand down to her tight to massage it, trying to relive the soreness after a day of riding. "It's nice to be here at all. I didn't expect the selection process to be so rough. It seems a bit much to put us through deadly trials. Thankfully Smexala helped me through."
As if sensing that the half-elf was going to talk about her, the serpent has risen up on it's tail to bring it's head to rest on Elvara's shoulder. Elvara pats the creature on it's head.
Raven's mind rushes through an analysis of Elvara. Noble-born. Probably born out of wedlock, since an alliance with Kyonin would be big news. New to mercenary work-hasn't gotten use to riding and her equipment is too new-looking. A mage of some sort. That snake should be useful.
Raven gives a slight nod in agreement at Elvara's whispered comment, then brusquely says, "The Solicitor is a manipulative bastard, all right. Whoever the hell he is. Put two of our group off the assignment after the 'test.' Anyways, get settled in, meet other people. If you need training, come to me." Noticing Vorsirion pouting, Raven sighs and says, "Got to calm him down before he gets angry and decides to sic skeletons on all of us."
Raven walks up to Vorsirion and grumbles, "Are you about to get angry and sic some undead abominations on us? Because that would be very bad."
Vasilyan carefully observes the newcomer. His gaze fixed on her, the Brevic archer studies every move of the attractive half-elf. She cannot ride confidently. Bad. She cannot dismount quickly. Bad as well. She was worried about being the only woman in the group, meaning that she had a somehow bad experience with men in her life. This is not bad, just predictable. But if she thinks that Raven's going to be her coquetting partner she's totally wrong.
Vasilyan smiles to the woman absent-mindedly, and remembering the etiquette he learned back when he was in New Stetven as a young lad, he approaches the newcomer and kisses her hand gently, his bristly beard rubbing against the woman's glove or skin. "I'm Vasilyan Medvyed, milady. It's a pleasure to make your acquiescence."
Vasilian looks suspiciously at the snake on the woman's shoulder. Snakes...I never liked snakes...Let's hope this one is not another biting, venomous bastard as its brethren.
Elvara's eyes flicker a bit to the side as the handsome man approach her. It reminds her all too much of her encounter with the handsome prince. They can't all be bad like him, taking what they want right? She manages to put on a bright smile, completely banishing the hint of her dark thoughts for the moment as she let him have her hand. His beard tickles her bare skin as she curtsies in response.
He's got manners at least. That's more than they can say about the pirate prince. He's different from the guards, I bet he's with Raven and the elf.
In a gentle voice she says. "It's my pleasure to meet you Lord Medvyed. Endurance Overcomes All. We will need endurance where we are going."
The serpent has withdrawn a bit back from Elvara, but it lifts it's head toward Vasilian with a his. "Ssshe hass endured more than you can ever exsssperience. You should rather worry about yourself."
Elvara turns towards her eidolon, anger and mortification warring in her. "Smelaxa! He's being nice!"
Quickly she turns back towards Vasilyan, her head bowed. "I'm so sorry for her rude behavior."
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Vorsirion rolls his eyes at Raven's quip about the skeletons. But he does so without malice and turns to face her.
May as well...get to know her.
"I was not always...this way," he offers reluctantly. He looks the woman over before continuing. "I was once a warrior, much like yourself. I studied the art of war, and was quite skilled at using the weapons of the elves. Though elves are proficient with the blade and with magic, I confess I always preferred martial to arcane pursuits."
He offers a wane smile. "Sometimes, things happen in life that we do not intend or wish. I do not know why that skeleton turned to help us. I admit that it was, in part, beyond my control. I have some relics with...special powers," he says.
"May they always help our efforts, rather than hinder them," he adds pensively.
Vasilyan is a bit surprised in finding that the newcomer actually knows his family motto. He smiles in response, nodding slightly. It's so strange to hear those words from someone who's not from my family...
When he hears the snake actually speaking, Vasilyan's eyes widens, although the man tries to regain his composure as soon as possible. A talking snake? What the... The snake words' carried a significant meaning too. Vasilyan stands astonished, unable to figure out a proper reaction to such an unexpected situation. Eventually, he decides that he won't be replying to the snake. It would have made him feel strange indeed to actually talk to a serpent.
"Don't worry milady, everything's fine" he says in a gruff voice, trying to hide his sense of uneasiness. "I need to attend to some preparations now. It's been a pleasure to meet you and I'm sure we'll have the chance to talk further in the future, if you're going to come along with us."
Elvara looks a bit worried at Vasilan's words and her voice waver ever so slightly. "Coming with you? I was told to come here to meet up some team that has been tasked with an expedition heading into the stolen lands. That's sadly all I know. The Solicitor doesn't reveal more than he has to." Though it would be nice if he didn't reveal my whereabouts to a certain prince...
She pauses briefly before continuing. "Are you not with that group?" She looks over at Raven with mild confusion. "I sure got the impression she knew about me coming and she mentioned the Solicitor too."
After hearing his answer Elvara asks. "What preparations are you making? Maybe I could come to learn something? I'm afraid I don't come from such noble traditions of dealing with the wilderness such as yourself."
He hasn't shown any sign of acting inappropriate. It should be safe to go with him right? And I need to learn more if I'm to handle the wilds.
Don't worry, you got me here to protect you. Resounds in her mind telepathically from her eidolon.
Raven sighs and her hand cradles the back of her head. "Vorsirion, I think you're dangerous. What happened back there in the Crypt is not to happen again. The winds of fate may have aided us that time, but you don't have your powers under control. Get a rein on them before whatever took you over decides that it would be more convenient to kill us all," she says, stern.
Rolling her shoulders, Raven then says, "But your powers, if you do get them under control, will be invaluable. That's why I need to keep you alive until you can use them without significant risk. And that means that you need to rediscover how to hold your own without them." Unsheathing her blade, Raven gives Vorsirion's elegantly crafted sword a once-over as she begins taking off her tabard and roughly wrapping it around her blade. "I also need a real sparring partner. Forms can only do so much. Do you have anything that can temporarily dull your blade?"
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Vorsirion's eyes flash momentarily with anger.
She only wants what is yours! She is jealous! Drive her away, elf!
But then he looks away.
"I am not dangerous, young one," he says, no longer looking at the woman but his temperament softening.
"But I have relics that are. Do not think to command that their powers do not manifest. You cannot control their power any more than you can control the wind."
The elf looks at the skull and blade at his waist. "Nor can I," he whispers.
Changing the subject to a somewhat happier one, the elf draws his finely-crafted elven curve blade, the two-handed version of a scimitar mastered by the elves. Curiously, its blade appears semi-translucent, as if it were a ghost.
"I said that I enjoyed martial pursuits, especially swordplay. I would be glad of a sparring partner. Though I must confess, I worry more about your blade being padded than mine!" he says with a rare smile.
Raven offers a smile in return and says, "Aye, Vorsirion. My tabard should do the job, though. Here, let me get my old cloak from my pack..." The young woman rummages around in her backpack for a moment before withdrawing an old, faded Flame's Fury cloak and tossing it to Vorsirion, before getting into a ready stance, her feet firmly planted two shoulderlengths apart from each other and the long blade of Harbinger, padded with her tabard, pointed up and away from Raven.
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Vorsirion carefully wraps the blade with the old cloak, then frowns.
"I have seen you fight," the elf says.
"I fear that wrapping our blades in these heavy cloaks will favor your style of combat much more than mine," he says. "You are an instrument of sheer force. I am one of precision."
Removing the heavy cloak from his blade, he instead retrieves a piece of his winter gear from his own pack, a gray woolen scarf. He wraps it around his blade and secures it with string every foot of the blade.
"Do not be concerned that this does not seem padded enough," he says. "I assure you that I have sufficient control not to harm you. Though if I am wrong, I think you could handle a welt across your back side," he smirks.
The elf brings his own blade in front of him. His stance is very upright, and not as crouched as the woman. His blade and form create straight, tall lines, almost like a tall cat or a long-legged bird.
His blade seem made for broad sweeps, not short thrusting or awkward stabbing or frenetic chopping.
Nodding in readiness, the elf waits for his sparring partner to move.
Raven doesn't move as a palpable silence seems to surround the two. Very elegant stance. Obviously of elven origin. Maybe Tsulara? No, not fluid enough for a blade like that. Waiting for me to move. Prudent. Which one of us will break first, I wonder? Raven's face has a serene, calm quality. The wind blows gently, ruffling her hair slightly.
After the party introduces themselves, there is a bit of time to rest and take care of your horses before dinner. A half dozen soldiers share a plain, but filling meal, with a minimum of conversation.
The group is billeted in the Fort, with an early rise the next morning. the Knight Captain leads a patrol that escorts you a half day West along the South Rostland road for a half day.
As the Road veers sharply North, you can clearly see where Brevoy's reach ends a half day's ride and the patrol turns around to return to Fort Serenko. Farms that frequently dotted the rolling plains north of the road fall off, becoming increasingly sporadic, and for the last half of the day you only see the rare hollowed ruins of buildings and the dirt paved road you follow.
The 10-foot tall solid log walls that surround Oleg's Trading Post are a welcome sight after almost an entire day's travel without a single sign of civilization. A small plume of smoke suggests a cookfire is active within and you can see where a solid gate is closed on the South side of the fortification.
As you approach the Trading Post, from the South East watchtower, you can see a middle aged man with light hair and deep red muttonchops looking your way apprehensively. The sharp eyed of you note that he has a crossbow resting almost out of sight. He calls out, "What's your business there? You're not affiliated with the Stag Lord, are you?"
Responding to the Knight Captain's offer, "We thank you for allowing us to accompany you. While not an replacement for proper patrols and garrisons, perhaps we can help share some of the burden. Now, what can you tell me about Oleg and his post..." Alexei continues to speak with Garrek as beautiful woman approaches and occupies the others' attention.
The clerk watches as Raven takes the lead once again, mentally shrugging. At least she seems to treat everyone much the same, like her Lord in Iron.
With Raven departing and Vasilyan not seeming in a chatty mood, Alexei steps forward with a smile, leading his animals. "Pleasure to meet you, Elvara Rivers? I am Alexei. Healer, scribe, and now, gesturing to his burdened mules packmaster and cartographer."
Nodding to Vasilyan, Indeed we are that 'group'. We were to meet our last member here, which I believe is you and your... familiar? This last is directed to the snake. No natural creature, not in Calistril when the snow still flies.
Adding on to Elvara's question, Alexei turns to Vasilyan and twiches his reins, "I was going to stable mine if that's where you're headed. I wouldn't mind you giving them a once over myself, but if you are busy I can assist her?" Alexei leaves either choice open so the older man can take his comfort.
Another friendly face is nice, though he's not as handsome as Vasilyan and his name reminds me of Alexander. Maybe I'm in luck with the men in this group... Though the elf seems less friendly. Again she curtsies. "The pleasure is on my side Alexi. And Smelaxa is not a familiar." She touches the blood red scale-like pattern on her forehead. "The two of us share a unique bond."
Elvara looks over at her horse with hesitation. "Taking care of horses is another thing I want to learn more about. So much to learn, hopefully I'll be able to learn a lot from you great people."
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Vorsirion had enjoyed sparring with Raven. There had been much sizing up of the other. Vorsirion seemed the nimbler, while Raven the more powerful. Much of the time, the elf had maneuvered to dodge the warrior's massive blade, worried about the harm it might cause him even wrapped up. Each had landed a blow or two, and the two promised to train together again.
The elf had slept but little that night, and sat meditating. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw a young, female elf with long black hair. She peered around the corner, eyeing another female elf that seemed showered with praise. A sister, perhaps.
You are better than her. Why does she receive the accolades?
The next day, Vorsirion had traveled quietly. Now realizing that the half-elf Elvara would be their traveling companion, he did introduce himself, though remained aloof.
Vorsirion eyes the crossbow sitting to the man's side, not wanting to see it used.
"I have not so much as heard of this 'Stag Lord,' let alone share an affiliation with him? Who is this that would be so unwelcome here?" the elf asks coldly.
Raven also enjoyed sparring with Vorsirion, glad to have a partner of equal-skill. Their different styles kept her on her toes, and she demonstrated a unique technique: whenever Vorsirion would go for a thrust, the young woman would flip to the flat of her blade, using it as a shield.
On the road, Raven takes time to get to know Elvara. The mercenary is rather gruff, brusque, and blunt, and Elvara gets the feeling that Raven would get poisoned on her first night in the cutthroat world of the court due to her lack of hesitation to speak the truth. If the king was being a jackass, Raven would tell him so.
Once the party reaches the trading post, Raven sizes up its defenses on instinct, and once the man's voice rings out, she yells to him, "We're here on the orders of the Solicitor. To 'tame' the Stolen Lands, if such a thing is possible. Now, could you please let us in, preferably without plugging us between the eyes with that crossbow? We have papers, if you're worried about that."
Elvara is glad to chat with Raven on the road. She'll try to get to know her companions better and share a bit of her time in New Stetven, though she'll be hesitant to share the events that lead up to her leaving. "I like your attitude, it's always nice to get to know someone honest opinion without having to dig through a veil of sugar-coating and misdirection. Still, there are times when a situation could be easier resolved, even avoiding conflict altogether, by carefully choosing one's words."
Before arriving at the fort, once it's in view, Elvara blesses herself and whoever else might want it by a simple touch with a small cantrip to help smooth things over. "Let me give you a small bit of arcane guidance. It'll make it easier to choose the right words for the situation, or really anything else the situation might call for."
"g̷̡̙̝̉̋̉̅͘u̳̎̄̏͐̅ͯͩ̀͜í̼̦̯͕̗̪ͣ͂ͣ̅ͫ̈ͨd̴̳͚̰͉͖̬̪̙͉ͤͨ͋̉͊a̷̮̯͚͗͂̔͂ͣ̃́͜n̳͇̻̘ͧ͘͘͝ ̘͚̣̦c͓̦̬̥͑̎ͮͪ͆e͕̙͑̐̊͂ͣ̓͌̔"
Elvara smiles and waves up at the man in greeting. "Good day to you. I'm Elvara Rivers. As my companion so eloquently put it, we've been sent to help deal with unchecked problems. You must be Oleg, I presume. It sounds like you have a problem with this Stag Lord, maybe we can help?" Behind her Smelaxa is keeping quite still, she knows human can easily be unsettled by her appearance.
The man lowers his crossbow with a grunt. "Yes, name's Oleg, and I suppose you don't *look* like those godsforsaken bandits..." He shoulders his crossbow. "Just a minute, I'll have the gate open in a moment" before he walks down a platform inside the walls. "Come in, and welcome to the Trading Post" he calls out as the gate slowly creaks open.
Immediately inside, you can see a stables with wagon set up beside it, and several other wood buildings inside the fortification. The burly man you take to be Oleg gestures towards the stable, saying, "Come, your horses look like they've seen some miles. See to them, then we'll get down to business."
In short order, the horses are unsaddled and stabled, filling each stall. Clearly the building was created to hold this capacity, but it has been some time since this many horses have been inside at once. Just as you are finishing with the stabling, a melodic voice calls out: "Stew is ready, come get it while it's hot!" Oleg shrugs and says, "my wife Svetlana will skewer me if supper gets cold, best to see to that."
In the small courtyard between the buildings, a beautiful blonde headed woman in her twenties with a kerchief holding back her hair is setting a large pot of stew on one of the two large wooden tables, complete with 8 bowls and spoons set around it. She has a wide smile as she backons. "Come come, I insist that you have a meal before Oleg steals you away for business."
As Raven slides into one of the tables, she deeply inhales the stew and gives a sigh. "Is... Is that ginger? And pepper? Excellent use of spices." She then slurps from the bowl noisily, giving contented sighs as she does so. "So nice to have something other than trail rations or noble food that's sweet enough to give a goblin toothache for once," she says, once finished.
Alexei attempts to chat amiably with their escort, as much as the seemingly taciturn soldiers will allow, for the morning they have them, falling back towards the rear once they are one their own. He does make an effort to speak with those nearby, but does not force the issue.
Alexei follows the others into the fort, pleased at the way Elvara is able to smooth over the mercenary's roughness. Stowing weapons and armor, he keeps the gambeson on to ward off the evening's gathering chill. Joining the others at the tables, Alexei brings the charter's case, but keeps it shut until the meal is finished. Business will simply have to wait it seems.
"Thank you Mistress Svetlana. As Raven nodding to the red-headed woman said, such a meal is welcome. Especially when it may a while before we have another.
Sitting patiently, Alexei waits until host and hostess for the host and hostess indicate it's time. As everyone settles in, Alexei addresses Svetlana, "If not business then pleasure. What brought you and your husband here?"
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Vorsirion follows the others to the dinner table, observing the seemingly odd couple offering them dinner.
What would bring this beautiful woman to the frontier, the elf did not know.
But you have also had unlikely romance...though so long ago.
The elf sits quietly and eats some of the stew, though as always, eats very little.
"Who do you trade with here, primarily?" the elf asks Oleg.
Vasilyan frowns at the sight of the man looking their way with apprehension. Mmm...bad sign. And he has a crossbow too...
"What's your business there? You're not affiliated with the Stag Lord, are you?"
The Stag Lord? Who's he? "I don't know this Stag Lord you speak about. And I'm not affiliated with anyone else apart from my family and my companions, here. Name's Vasilyan Medvyed, pleased to make your acquiescence..." says Vasilyan in his usual gruff voice.
When the man lowers his crossbow, Vasilyan nods calmly.
"Yes, name's Oleg, and I suppose you don't *look* like those godsforsaken bandits..."
Well, you should've seen me a few years ago... thinks Vasilyan, his face not betraying any of his inner feelings. But he's right. Bandits and gods just don't mix. At least in my experience.
As the man opens the gate, Vasilyan is quick to move closer and shake hands with him.
"Come in, and welcome to the Trading Post"
"Thank you Oleg" simply says Vasilyan as he follows the man inside.
"My wife Svetlana will skewer me if supper gets cold, best to see to that"
Vasilyan can't hold back a laughter when he hears the man's concern about her wife's reaction to the cold supper. "It's best not to make a woman wait" he says smiling, taking advantage of the situation to break the ice.
---
As they eat, Vasilyan stays mostly silent, listening to his companions' questions and Oleg's answers.
He's got only one question. He's always been very pragmatic, after all. But he does not lack the proper etiquette, so he waits untile the more mundane topics are dealt with before asking: "This Stag Lord. Who's he?"
When asked about why they came to the Trading Post, Oleg and Svetlana exchange nervous glances. Oleg speaks up gruffly, "We're looking for an honest living, away from those backstabbing nobles and their politics. Whole place is going to blow up like a powderkeg, if you ask me."
Svetlana chimes in, "We trade with all sorts here, mostly frontiersman, hunters, and trappers. We're really the closest option for provisions and trade for days."
Oleg adds, "That's slowed down, since those bastards showed up." He glances at Svetlana, averting his eyes "Sorry, those 'men'" showed up, driving away honest traders and demanding 'taxes' for their Lord. They call him the Stag Lord, and he's been organizing a group of miscreants around here. Haven't seen him myself, but he seems to command dozens of men. There's always a few that turn to banditry, and I'm sure not every coin that's passed through here has been honest, but they've been demanding more than we can spare. First time they showed up with a dozen mounted men, led by an ill-mouthed woman with a wicked temper and a wicked pair of axes. Second time, her second, an ugly man with a broken nose showed up, with fewer in number. Third time, they demanded double the last time! They threatened Svetlana, until she gave up her ring."
Svetlana gives a sad smile, rubbing an indentation on her finger where clearly a ring is missing. "It hurts to have lost something so precious, but not as much as losing you."
Oleg continues. "Anyway, they're due back soon, possibly even today. I had half a mind to shoot them from the ramparts when they showed up next, then you came... maybe we've got a shot. Make those bast-- those men pay, and you'll have free lodging and food as long as you stay here. Probably the best food and bed you'll find in these parts."
What are they holding back?
Smiling at Oleg, "Knowing bandits, 'bastards' is probably correct all around. This 'Stag Lord' wouldn't be the first byblow cast off by a lord to seek power and recognition whatever way he could. If that is his history." Tilting his head thoughtfully, "Though he is perhaps unusually arrogant and foolish. To take a name like that as a bandit in lands where Old Deadeye holds sway... there will be a reckoning for certain."
Looking at the rest of the party before focusing on Svetlana, "And that reckoning may be soon indeed if you are right about their schedule. In fact, perhaps one of us should keep watch while the rest eat." Alexei makes to stand and unless someone says or motions to the contrary, he moves to the watcher tower they first spotted Oleg in.
As Oleg describes his desperate situation, Raven steeples her fingers and her brow furrows in thought. Once he and Alexei finish speaking, Raven begins issuing orders. "When the bandits come, we need to take one alive to know the rest of the bands' location. Just one. We need to slaughter the rest, inspire fear in the Stag Lord's men. Heads on pikes often do the trick. As for the actual battle, we need to strategically position ourselves. The environment is to our advantage here-we're defending inside of a former fort. Vasilyan and Elvara, you take up position on the walls and snipe at the bandits. Focus your fire on whoever seems to be the leader. Vasilyan, use those special arrows you used on the troll to drop the leader quickly. As soon as the entire party of bandits enters, I'll shut the gates to prevent them from fleeing and," Raven pulls out two vials of blood-red liquid, shimmering in the sun. "I'll down one of these to increase my size, strength, and reach. Combined with the length of Alexei's longspear, you two should have plenty of room to snipe the bandits without the chaos of melee in the way. Speaking of you, Alexei, use your spear to keep the bandits at bay so that Elvara and Vasilyan can shoot without worrying about hitting you. Vorsirion, you'll join the melee as well, assisting wherever you feel is needed. If one of us gets critically injured, and only if one of us gets critically injured, summon a skeleton to keep the bandits off of Alexei's back while he heals us. Smexala will wait in the shadows until one of the bandits becomes weak enough to be subdued. Then, she will strike, constricting the bandit until he passes out, dragging him off, and guarding him until the fight is over. Oleg, Svetlana, you stay locked tight in one of the buildings. If worst comes to worst and the bandits overpower us, they should be weakened enough that the two of you can escape. Alexei, use that spell that boosted our morale in that fight against the skeletons at the beginning on the fight before joining the melee. Vorsirion, like we discussed before, refrain from using your powers unless absolutely necessary. Elvara, I need to know what you can do in order to supplement the fight. If anybody can poke holes in my plan, please tell me now so I can sew them shut. Any questions?" Raven's voice is calm and steady throughout the briefing, her breath even and her eyes as iron. This is her natural element.
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As Raven speaks, Vorsirion's mind flashes to a young, sickly human boy. The same boy he had seen pushed into the mud puddle, with bullies laughing. Now that boy had his arm twisted behind his back. The largest of the bullies taunted the sickly one. "Say it! Say it!" the bully said. "Uncle! Uncle!" the sickly boy cried out, but the bully only laughed more.
Another memory flashed across the elf's mind. This time, the sickly boy, a teenager now, coughing still, but with a black cloak pulled over his head. Now he smiled, an expression just as sick as his health. The bully, now also grown, lay at his feet, somehow disabled. "Say it!" the ill one said. "Mercy! Have mercy!" the bully said.
She does not command you... Vorsirion now heard.
He speaks true. Say it, elf.
Say it.
SAY IT!!!
Vorsirion looks coldly at Raven. "Your plan is sound," he says. "But I do not follow your orders. And I already told you that my powers are my own, not yours to control. I cannot pretend to command them, any more than you can. When, and how, I use my powers will be mine alone to decide. Do you yet understand?"
Well said, elf. She is jealous! She wants what is yours!
Raven rubs the bridge of her nose with her fingers. "Vorsirion, you're being an idiot," she says harshly. "I'm not trying to twist your powers to my own ends. I'm trying to keep you from using them so they won't control you. Pardon me if I don't trust that cackling, undead-looking fellow who took control of your body when you summoned that skeleton. Now, if you want to use your powers, fine. But if you start looking at me or anybody else like they'd make a good test subject, I'll knock your ass out until you come to your senses. Clear?"
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The elf returns Raven's stare with equal menace. Somewhere deep in Vorsirion's gray eyes, a pinprick of glowing blue light flashes.
"Do not threaten me," he says, his voice cold but quiet.
After a moment of returning the warrior's stare, Vorsirion says "There is much you do not understand, youngling," he says, his voice softening.
Standing and moving to the door, he says "Let us defend this place."
Raven gives a terse nod to Vorsirion, then turns to Vasilyan, mouthing, We need to talk, before checking her equipment and taking up position in the courtyard.
Hmm...There's clearly more to it, but they do not want to share it with us. I wonder why... Vasilyan listens attentively to both Oleg and Svetlana, but his mind frequently drifts to his own thoughts. Svetlana. Name's not new. Singer, courtesan...House Surtova, I believe. I wonder why she's here.
"You don't need to barter for our help, Oleg. We're here to help. I'll pay anyway for the comforts of your home. But let's get to point: we're tasked with exploring the Greenbelt, and it would be useful for us to have a place where to return for provisions and lodging. So we'll fight for this place. How many of them came last time? You mentioned their number decreades over time."
Vasilyan shakes his head as Alexei speaks. He does not know nothing about bandits. Even true nobles could become bandits. Even though he strongly disagrees with his ally's words, he does not chime in.
But when Raven starts barking orders, Vasilyan can't refrain himself anymore. "Listen, Raven, Vorsirion is right. I've already told you that I won't be taking orders from you. And he won't do it, either. We're all together in this, so we should discuss our plan as a team. You shouldn't be telling me what type of arrows I should use, nor where should I be positioning myself. You may ask me to do that, not command me to. Do I need to recall you who am I? Your plan makes sense, but words are important. Do not understimate them. If I was a young recruit, I would have deserted as soon as I realized I had not any chance to speak. Next time, try to be more dialogic. And as far as pikes and heads are concerned, I think violence is not the best solution. At least not always."
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Raven appears taken aback by Vorsirion's outburst, then grudgingly says, "I'm too used to commanding rookies who hardly know that the pointy end goes in the other guy. And the only one who has any sense at all. I forget that, occasionally, I'm partnered up with people who actually know what they're doing. At least somewhat."
Raven looks around the table at the motley crew assembled there. "Vasilyan's right, too. I need to know each of your capabilities. Especially you, Elvara. You're something of an unknown quantity in this situation."
At Vasilyan's comment about heads on pikes, Raven replies, "Violence is not always the best solution, yes. But men stupid enough to join a profession that's liable to get them hunted down and killed like the animals they are can't be reasoned with. They only know fear. Their friends heads on pikes will send a clear message that Oleg's trading post is not to be messed with."
Svetlana blanches at the mention of heads on pikes. Oleg is quick to add "While I appreciate your assistance, I would prefer to avoid something as barbaric a display. Things will likely come to violence, but if we become monsters ourselves, we will be no better than the bandits we fight."
After the meal is complete, the Leventons show the group around the rest of the Trading Post. Aside from the Stables, there is a locked storeroom in the center of the fortification, where Oleg can store larger valuables. Along the North wall there are several large compost heaps and middens (Svetlana: "I'm sure he never planned to be a farmer, Oleg has promised that we'll till down and plant some crops there this year!".) The south-east has a small outbuilding for guests, though there are only four beds presently. The main Trading Post building houses a supply room, a small office, a small dining room (for when it's too cold to eat outside), a guest room and Oleg and Svetlana's room.
You can also spend the rest of the day "officially" mapping the area around the Trading Post. Oleg helps adding to your understanding of the area. "South-east of here Old Bokken has his hut. He's a bit, well, off, but he trades me potions in return for supplies. Due South is the Narlmarches, a massive forest that goes for more days' travel than anyone around here has been willing to go and survive the trip."
Bastards eh? I guess we aren't viewed in a positive light by most. Still, it's hurtful to hear such thoughts even if there isn't much that can be done about it.
"I know how it is to be coerced into actions you don't want, to constantly live under duress. I don't wish that on anyone and I hope we are able to help with that Oleg and Svetlana." She says in a tender voice while looking to their hosts with a gentle look.
Elvara is silent for a bit as she listen to their plans. "I do not know each of your capabilities either, however I've been able to gleam some from your plans. Thank you for that. Myself, I got a few spells. One that should work exactly like your describe of your potion. I was planning to use it on Smelaxa, to bring her back to her true size, but I can use it on you as well, so as to save your potion for when I'm too spent for the day to use magic. If we remain within the fort I could do this before the bandits enter, though it'll only last for a minute, so the timing has to be impeccable. I got another spell that draws forth the grease and slime of Smelaxa's natural habitat. Hopefully that'll be able to surprise the bandits and make them slip. I'll try to avoid it coming in contact with any of you, but do be careful so you don't fall as well. I'll use my spells to bolster you and Smelaxa as well as looking out for opportunities to trip up the bandits. After that... It might be better to send the bandits flashes of Smelaxa's hypnotic gaze to daze them rather than using my crossbow. That's also something I can do with my magic."
Suddenly Smelaxa speaks up for herself from her position over in the corner, lifting her head to study the group. "I do not want to sstay in the ssshadowss instead of fighting. Protection of thisss abode will be more effective if I participate from the ssstart."
When she speaks up on the next subject Elvara's face blanches. "As for putting heads on pikes... That sounds like a horrible thing to do. Is that really what we want to be known for? The people who invaded the greenbelt to make an example out of bandits? I would much rather be known for being kind to the people living here, like Oleg and Svetlana, but dealing with the bandits as we have to. Bandits are people too. At least some of them are bound to just be misguided or pressured into joining. Maybe we can show them a better path?"