Gavriil looks askance at Talia. Miserable under his cloak, he can only pull it tighter against the rain. "I don't know Talia," he manages, "this isn't what I expected you know? Not what I signed up for...I guess I didn't know what I was signing up for." He looks away, the guilt clear in his voice.
"I guess I thought this would be more...fun? I don't know. Less work if you want. At first it was all of that and more. And being out here with you...well...that seemed a bonus, you know? But lately it's to much like work. I'm not cut for the responsibility: managing gold mines, treating with kobolds, it's not my style if you catch me." He rides in silence for a bit.
"I think when we reach Oleg's I'm heading out, maybe to Restov. I'm...I'm sorry." He looks at Talia, his eyes pleading for her to understand.
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Edric has been quiet for the rest of the ride, ashamed of his outburst he has not yet offered an explanation but has apologised profusely more than once. The challenges at the gate shake him out of his reverie.
"Good afternoon sir, madam. My name is Edric Starsson, my travelling companion and I come from Fort Serenko to visit Oleg's. I assume we have reached our destination?."
Edric takes a long searching look around the fort. Solid construction, a bit weathered but someone has been making repairs recently... They must have had some sort of trouble out here to have this many men and be be fixing up the walls. Bandit trouble or wild animals? At least they're alert!
Refocusing on the welcoming committee before him Edric smiles as best he can. "It's good to meet you both, might we enter? We have honest coin to exchange for a bed and feed for the horses.
"I've been criss-crossing the lands for two weeks now, She kept leading me one way and then the other. I think I was in the right place actually, just not at the right time but now we've met I think Her will has been fulfilled, at least partially.
Vosil smiles, and is about to reply - and introduce himself properly - when the man seems to have some sort of fit. Vosil's horse - a war-bred stallion - does little more than flick one ear at the sound. Unsure of how his companion's own horse will react, Vosil edges close enough to take hold of its bridle until the man can recover, which he does soon enough.
"Tell me," Vosil asks, with extreme politeness, "does that sort of thing happen terribly often?"
...
As he approaches the Fort, Vosil dismounts and stands easy, waiting to be challenged. He's done this sort of thing - with minor variations - more times than he can remember, even if he cared to.
With a - respectful - nod toward the man, who seems to be in charge of the garrison here; and a doff of his hat and a low bow towards Asha, Vosil smiles easily - but doesn't kiss her hand. "Thank you for the welcome - the pleasure is entirely mine, I assure you. My name is Vosil Comarenza; as for my business, my companion is entirely correct: we were directed here from Fort Serenko."
Vosil still has no idea of where he is going, but Edric's words about Desna's will being fulfilled are still in his head; he has more hope now of some direction than he did 24 hours ago. "I plan to stock up on provisions and rest overnight before I plan out the next part of my journey."
Over the last fortnight since he returned to Brevoy, Vosil has slowly been regaining the dialect: his urbane, cosmopolitan Taldane is more frequently mingled with Hallit words, as is the local custom, and he sounds like the native son of Brevoy that he truly is. His accent is of Northern Brevoy, with its oddly flattened vowels - a skilled listener would guess him for an Issian, from somewhere around the port of Winterbreak.
Silence. And shock. Time stretches on, Talia unsure what to say to Gavriil, and how to say it. Sure, the Scoundrel of the Greenbelt wasn't the hardest worker, and his motivations seemed purely selfish at times, and he was infuriatingly well, infuriating... but he had come back to the fort for her, and somehow, Talia had always imagined that he'd be with her, wherever this journey led them.
To say that Talia wasn't used to be rebuffed, or rejected, was no exaggeration. Blushing red, Talia pulls the hood of her cloak low over her eyes and stares straight ahead. "Well, you have to do what you have to do." The playwright's voice and posture are both stiff, and she regrets having tied Apple to the travois. There would be no spurring the horse quickly away. Instead, Talia just sits miserably in the rain.
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"Tell me," Vosil asks, with extreme politeness, "does that sort of thing happen terribly often?"
"My... apologies!" Edric growls through gritted teeth. "It's an old malady, gaah! Something I can't... entirely control!"
Once they have both had a chance to settle their horses and buy a bed for the night Edric invites Vosil to sit down over some dinner.
"Please forgive me friend but you seem somewhat troubled. Is there anything I can do to help?"
The relentless rain drove down hard on Naralesh as the broken band of explorers rode back to Oleg's. For the first few hours, he cast and re-cast the magic that would dry out his sodden clothes, but the rain soaked through again in moments and made the effort all but pointless. He kept his hood down, lost in thought as the horses headed back towards the trading post that had become their home.
Days earlier the band of explorers and bandit-hunters had seemed a rock-solid troupe, but the negotiations with the kobolds had driven a wedge into the team, with Magna at its center. The addition of Kaalib was the final hammer blow, and now Magna was all but hostile to the others. With Gavriil now departing as well, Naralesh wondered about the fate of their mission. They would manage, he assured himself. Still, he couldn't help but remember the lighthearted scoundrel saving his life after the group's ill-fated first encounter with Happs and his fellow bandits. He would miss the man's uplifting mood, that was certain.
Vosil runs a thumb and forefinger along his mustache and down his neatly-trimmed beard, wondering just how much to tell this friendly stranger.
"I think it's fair to say that I'm somewhat at a loss as to what I am supposed to do next. I'm sure however that I will recognise it when I see it... Ten years ago, it came in the form of a rescue from the brawl that I'd started; I rather think though that I shan't be starting a fight any time soon..." Vosil smiles. "I'd like to think that I'm wiser than that, now! But I wouldn't mind it coming in sufficiently dramatic fashion that I can't help but see it - I find Desna can occasionally be a little obscure in her meaning; I like my signs to be nice and obvious!"
He pauses. "I suppose that's too much to ask?"
"Anyway, enough about me; if you care to tell me what your distress earlier was about, my ear is open."
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"My first sign was an Azata appearing out of nowhere to save me from certain death. Personally I felt that was sign enough!" Edric says with a smile. The smile fades as he continues. "I was an... apprentice, you might say, to a devil summoner named Eraxis. He used me as a conduit for summoning spells so that any backlash couldn't effect him. Thankfully one day I was able to tamper with his bindings and he summoned the Azata instead. It freed me and I've never looked back since then. The problem is, once you've had devils squeezing through your soul it leaves you a bit... roomy. There's space within me now and things bleed through. Usually its facts, tit-bits of information bit sometimes its something worse. I'm sorry about your cat - it seemed nice enough. It just triggered something I wish I didn't have to remember."
Edric is visibly slumped by the end of his tale, massaging his forehead with one hand. "I don't know where I'd be without Her grace. The Song of the Stars has kept me sane though many a dark night." He pauses for a second, seemingly weighing up his next offer. "I pray nightly to her for guidance and good fortune. It's getting dark so if you'd like to join me outside we could pray together. It might help."
He stands up and waits at the door to see if Vosil is going to join him.
Well, THAT restores a sense of perspective... "It does rather seem that you've had an eventful life, thus far," Vosil manages with commendable understatement. "Do you have thoughts on what the next stage is?"
He silently considers Edric's offer. It might not be a bad thing to stargaze, to be reminded again of the vastness of the heavens under which his life plays out.
"The Song of Stars... I haven't heard that for some time. I traveled with a Varisian caravan for some months when I left Brevoy;" (with a bloodied knife and what felt like half the Winterbreak town watch after him; he leaves this bit out of his story) "and they used to lie on the grass and look up at the stars most nights." (Usually while drunk on home-brewed moonshine liquor and with a wench or two for company; he leaves this out too.)
He smiles. "I shall be glad to accompany you."
"What do you make?"
The kobold looked over at the redhead's raised eyebrow and judgement of his opinions. It's likely she was just feeling grumpy, but at least she was willing to make the effort. That was worth something. "All sorts of things. Kobold are reknowned for our trap making, but in order to make traps you have to be quite good at all sorts of making. We're rather proficient diggers, but we're also good with accessories, fetishes, leather, metal and precious metal working, jewelry, tools, brewing, and even magical items when we have the resources. Constant wars and raiding have impoverished our people, and it's actually been several generations since the Sootscales have seen any actual wealth. I've seen some of the things my tribesmen have squirreled away, and there's talent there, just not any time away from subsistence and survival or materials to make things happen. From all I've seen, we could do quite well if we simply overcome some of our more backward and self-defeating traditions."
He got a bit of a faraway look in his eye. "My time with the Abadarans has taught me the benefit of civilization, and it's something I would love to see my people embrace, and something we'd actually be quite good at if given the chance. But changes are difficult in dealing with a traditional people. I actually have quite the battle in front of me, just to make a few steps forward."
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"The next stage... I don't know. But if I were to try and guess Her purpose I'd guess that it has something to do with the people based here. There's a lot of stabling and empty rooms here but the soldiers sleep in tents outside. There must be other people here and I'd guess they're important if our hosts keep their rooms free."
Once they get outside Edric stretches gently and then, eyes fixed on the sky above him, begins to dance. He's not exactly graceful and starts slowly but gently builds speed. His eyes never leave the skies above him except for a brief moment when he looks back at Vosil and makes a beckoning gesture to join him in the dance.
Regardless of whether Vosil does or not Edric dances on for some time before slowing to a halt and praying aloud. "Song of the Stars, hear the prayers of your servants Edric and Vosil. We have journeyed under your stars in accordance to your will. We beg you for a sign of your favour and the good fortune to face our futures. For Vosil I ask for faith and the confidence to read your will in the world, for myself I ask for peace that I might sleep the whole night through."
After his prayer Edric turns to Vosil, "Well I am for bed. Sleep is a form of prayer afterall! Sleep well and dream clearly my friend." So saying he turns and heads to his bed for the night.
The gruff guard Captain - for that is what he is - watches you with a stern eye. He takes careful note of you, your gear, even your horses. A man clearly used to life in the Greenbelt.
Asha, on the other hand, smiles ever so slightly.
"Well met Edric and Vosil. You can stable your horses over there," she points to a small stable along the south wall of the post, "and the bunk house is over there." She then points to the opposite wall where a small bunkhouse sits, across from the post itself. then she turns with the captain.
"Let's go Kesten, time for our patrol."
The post is a simple affair. A stable, the post itself, the small bunkhouse. On the porch of the post, a woman greets warmly, taking you in. She introduces herself as Svetlana, and proposes the specialty - moon radish soup. Her husband - THE Oleg - is a gruff, scruffy man who bustles in and out as you eat and talk. He stops only long enough to tell you that it'll be 5 silver a night for food and lodging before going about his work.
The weather , the travois, and just the general mood make the trip seem longer than it should have been. Indeed, you don't arrive back at Oleg's until well after dark. the gate is closed, but a guard on watch scurries down to you.
"One moment ma'am," He says to Talia, "have it open fer you. Wes went to get the Captain. Wanted to see you as soon as you all arrived."
Even as the gate opens, you see Kesten and Asha striding from the post toward the gate. They greet you, but have a look of concern on their faces.
"Evening. Rough journey?' Kesten says. He takes in the huge boar on the travois, your soaked persons, and the fact that Magna and Gavriil don't stop to talk. He raises an eyebrow. "Trouble? Well, I don't know what that I'd add to your concerns, but you should know: two men came in to the post today, out of the east. They say they are here from Fort Serenko. Not trappers, not bandits far as I can tell. But they've seen some things. 'Accomplished' is a word I'd use. They are staying here tonight. You should probably speak with them. I have a man watching them."
Vosil smiles again. "My thanks, Asha, and to you, captain. May Erastil watch over your patrol."
Moving toward the stables, he encounters Svetlana and bows low, kissing her hand: a formality which is due the proprietoress of this establishment. "Good day to you, Goodwife Leveton, and Goodman Leveton also. My initial plan is to stay for only one evening, so here are five silver links for this night's board and lodging."
After stabling his - still-unnamed - stallion, he returns. "Goodwife Leveton, may I trouble you for quill, ink and parchment? I have a letter to send to Absalom; please will you let me know what the postage cost would be for that?"
The moon-radish soup is delicious, well worth 5 silver just on its own, in Vosil's opinion. He shares this remark with Svetlana. It has been a while since he ate hot food in (comparative) safety. He doesn't share that comment.
Vosil inclines his head, politely declining Edric's invitation to join the dance. His own form of religion extends little beyond veneration of Desna as Lady Luck, the occasional muttered prayer, and the occasional grateful acknowledgement of thanks. The thought that one can truly have a personal relationship with a deity strikes him as a virtual impossibility (surely gods have better things to do with their time than pay constant attention to every one of their followers?), but he has nothing against those who say otherwise.
He is grateful for Edric's mention of him in his prayers, though. Who knows. Maybe that kind of devout faith gets rewarded more than his own sort of lukewarm approval.
Once Edric has headed for bed, Vosil sits down with a sigh and starts to write his letter, the one he composed earlier. He wonders what Dylan will make of it all. Vosil has served well as a Lore Warden this last decade, and enjoyed its rewards. Whatever comes next, he hopes it is as suitably quixotic.
Talia dismounts and gives Apple over, turning and giving a rueful smile to Asha and Kesten. "We've all been better. Asha, it is good to see you again, at least. How goes your cleaning of Erastil's shrine?"
Cold, wet, and with a headache coming on, Talia wants nothing more than a piping hot bath and to crawl into bed, perhaps for a couple of days. Wincing, the playwright realizes exactly why Gavriil was leaving. This is hard. Still, people are depending on her, and that's what nobles do, if they're good ones, at least. They provide. Solve problems. Meet with dignitaries - and strangers.
For a moment, Talia has a daydream - a warm spring day, hopping on Apple, Gavriil's arms around her as she rides the horse back towards Restov. If I wasn't a Khavortorov.
"Kesten, rouse the strangers if they are in bed. Meet us at the southwest catapult."
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The idea is to receive the strangers on her terms. Still, that's easier said than done in a run-down trading post in the Stolen Lands, with no proper reception room, or even a courtyard that isn't filled with mud.
The towers will have to do, for now. Taking her place by a catapult and making sure that the invitation is extended for Naralesh, Kaalib, Asha, Dregan, Magna, and Gavriil to join her, Talia looks out over the walls to the south, though she can't see anything in the rain and darkness. When the strangers climb the steps, Talia continues looking out into the night, her hand resting on the catapult.
"One day, these catapults will be fixed. One day, when we've brought to justice the bandits to the south, farmlands will flourish outside these walls. More trappers will bring their goods to Oleg's, and the road to Restov will be well-traveled. Brevoy will have a stable southern border. And you're lucky to see it now, before the stories are written. You'll be able to tell your grandchildren that even the catapults didn't work."
"Now, tell us, who do we have the pleasure of visiting with this fine evening?"
An unusual-looking cat with high, pointed ears, very long front legs and almost leopard-like markings is doing its best to stay out of the cold, burrowing into the man's cloak.
Vosil has been expecting something along these lines, ever since he first saw the group return, dragging the carcase of the enormous boar. His first thought was to congratulate Goodman Leveton on the prowess of his hunters, but almost immediately realised this impression was incorrect: Ha. I know dwarves, no hireling could be paid enough to work with a kobold; ... and look past all the dirt: that wench, the way she carries herself, that pale skin of hers, she's no commoner. Brevic through and through, by the look... So's the man, but he's obviously at home: seen the wilderness and it doesn't frighten him at all. Not bothered by the mud either, ha, not like the wench... The elf: again, ignore the weathered hands, look at the robes, the component pouch - mage.
As he climbs up the watchtower, he's not surprised that it's the wench who does the talking. Brevic accent, from the South if I'm any judge. Clearly fancies herself as noble, not one of the Major Houses, for sure...
As Talia finishes speaking, Vosil doffs his extravagantly-plumed hat and offers her (and the rest of the party) a florid bow that would get him admittance into any court in Brevoy, and most of Avistan; it is almost comically out of place, here in the wilderness.
"A pleasure to meet you. I am Vosil Comorenza, one-time Sczarni adventurer and ne'er-do-well, and more lately Lore Warden of the Society, Lodge 61, commanded by Savant-Major Dylan Mizzenman. Do I understand you aright, that it is your intention to tame this wilderness? That is marvellously - quixotic."
O Desna, maybe I should take it back - that's a wonderfully speedy and personal answer to my prayers... But I'm not going to beg to sign on. At least, not quite yet.
He clears his throat. "Might I have the pleasure of knowing your names?"
Vosil has, by now, given up entirely on the thought of returning to Taldor to seek revenge. He's less sure on what happens now.
A slight chuckle. "I can't disagree with that! As it happens, it was pure serendipity - I was rescued from a brawl by a Lore Warden, who informed me - rather brusquely, I might add - that I could continue in my present ways and die before I reached eighteen, or consider a change in my lifestyle. So you might say, he recruited me."
This observation brings a raised eyebrow. "Your perception is good. My mother, Desna rest her soul, had an ill-advised liaison with a high ranking member of the Lodovka family; I was the result. My formative years were rather full of incident as a consequence, and I left Brevoy when I was 15. I never met my father, or even knew his name, so I can't satisfy your curiosity any farther, I'm afraid."
Those of you who keep track of such things may be aware of a story which circulated around 25 years ago, of a (nameless) Lodovka noble who gambled and "took his winnings as women." It was a briefly popular ditty in port Winterbreak, until the composer was found drifting in the harbour one morning, minus his eyes and tongue. The major Houses of Brevoy have absolutely no sense of humour.
This brings something between an indignant snort and a slightly derisive chuckle. "Hardly." Vosil starts to tick off his various accomplishments on his fingers. "I can value goods and negotiate their sale in half a dozen different languages; I can navigate the deserts of Qadir, the tombs of Osirion, or the Mwangi jungles; I can map the wilderness; I'm familiar with the nobility in most of Avistan; I can comment on the customs of most countries and find my way around Absalom, Magnimar, and Korvosa; and I can - usually - break up a street brawl without killing anyone. Oh, and I can look after and ride a horse tolerably well."
A pause. "But I can guard, and I can fight."
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Kesten manages to catch Edric just before he actually goes to bed, which is good for everyone. People who wake Edric up do not get to meet the pleasant face which he usually presents to the world.
Having dressed quickly Edric makes it to the tower just in time to catch the end of Vosil's introduction. As he approaches he has a good chance to study the various people gathered by the catapult.
One very competent woodsman and a elf who doesn't seem to have much in the way of weapons - a magician perhaps? Shining stars! Is that a kobold? I can't imagine that that arrangement is going to please the dwarf... and the woman must be the one who summoned us - the leader I assume. They all seem to defer to her at least.
As Edric arrives at the top of the tower he pulls up his smile and reaches out to shake hands, first Talia, then Kaalib, Naralesh, Dregan, Magna and lastly Gavriil. As he shakes hands he channels a little of Desna's power to help ease the fatigue that he can read clearly over their faces.
"Blessings of the Song of Stars upon you ladies and gentlemen. I see you have returned from a successful hunt. My congratulations. As for myself my name is Edric. It is a pleasure to meet you all - I have been guided here by Her divine will. I believe that it is Her wish that I offer you my assistance in this endeavor to tame the wilderness. Therefore if you will have me, my arm and weapons are at your disposal."
He pauses for a moment and a wry grin appears on his face.
"But before we go any further I must second my travelling companion and request your names. It seems only appropriate to have names to put to such courage, skill and beauty." This last is accompanied by a short genuflection towards Talia, suitable to both a leader and a lovely woman. He straightens up and waits for responses, praying fervently that another fit doesn't strike him at this delicate moment.
When Gavriil leaves the fort, Magna stays at the fort gate, looking at him, while making a prayer to Torag, asking for the blessings of the Artificer for the human.
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5 minutes behind Talia a beautiful Dwarf appears, with a sad face, silently watching the conversation with Vosil and Edric.
At the mention of the Sczarni she becomes more interested, and eyes Vosil suspiciously.
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At Edric question she takes a step forward.
"I am Magnitofera Skeller, Shieldmaiden of Torag, at your service. And you are talking to Lady Talia Khavortorov, leader of this enterprise."
Kaalib eyed the newcomers with as much of an appraising eye as he could manage. All of these longshanks ended up looking alike to him, although it was nice that one of them was at least colored more appropriately. He'd never seen one that shade before, perhaps they had green and blue skinned ones too. He offered his hand in friendship according to their strange customs, and found nearly an ease with these new ones as he had with Talia and Naralesh.
Now concerning the newcomers, he didn't want to be too overbearing. He'd managed to irk the dwarf, and it was difficult to work with those who were looking for an excuse to cleave you like firewood. By the looks he was receiving, he was getting more curiosity than wrath or loathing, especially the dark one who seemed to use some kind of divine power so perhaps it was time to put himself out there. "Good former scoundrel and divine vessel, it is fortuitous to meet you here in soon to be tamed frontiers. I am Kaalib, diplomat and envoy from the Sootscales. It is also my intention to bring civilization to these lands, and have found somewhat uneasy allies in this noble crew. If one is willing to have an open mind, many more opportunities for success also open. As for participation in this quest, that decision I'll leave to others as I have just recently been asked to accompany these myself."
Naralesh's lips curled into a brief, satisfied smile behind Magna's back when she acknowledged Talia as the group's leader. If Magna's come to accept it, then it's as official as can be, he mused. "I am Naralesh of Restov," he said, his accent sounding more like a native than what might be imagined of an elven foreigner. "And this is my companion Nora," he continued with a smile, holding a small, snow-white fox with a small crescent shaped marking on its forehead in his arms. The little animal sniffed excitedly in the newcomers' direction, her tail wagging in a friendly manner.
LADY Khavortorov, eh? Well, out here I suppose you can be anything you want to.
Vosil's never heard of the Khavortorov family; he supposes that they are - as most of Restov's minor families - a generation or so removed from provably being bandits. Still, best to be polite. "A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Khavortorov. And yours, Shieldmaiden of Torag. I have had the privilege of working alongside Torag's chosen before - finer and truer warriors I have yet to find." Shame about their grasp of geopolitics, though...
At the mention of the Sczarni she becomes more interested, and eyes Vosil suspiciously.
Vosil gives his best disarming smile. "I thought it best to mention now, rather than it be discovered later and I be accused of hiding anything. In truth, I was with a caravan for six months when I first left Brevoy. Their ways and mine are... somewhat at odds, shall we say."
He bows to Kaalib.
His Draconic is good, but it sounds as though he has learned it from books rather than having spoken it to any great extent; his accent is slightly off.
Switching back to Taldane (albeit Taldane laced with Hallit, in the style of Brevoy), he continues to address the kobold. "I try to take people as I find them, in the hope they will do the same for me."
Bowing to Naralesh, he switches - briefly - to the Elven tongue.
Vosil's Elven is good, and pronounced correctly in the manner of Kyonin, rather than the bastardised forms spoken by so many half-elves across the continent.
Naralesh's grimaces good-naturedly as he switches to the Elven language he's spoken only a few times in the past fifty years. "Restov ȃmin eska ann faarea tanẙa lle Lotesse alanaṃur amin, Vosil enma Solocelira," he replies. "Elmai vḛrne noste emṇ Rostlandai, aȑ lye sinome tennǡ ire waane sina yȇn."
"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Khavortorov. And yours, Shieldmaiden of Torag. I have had the privilege of working alongside Torag's chosen before - finer and truer warriors I have yet to find."
Magna stands proudly at the Sczarni's compliment. (At least for her he is a Sczarni)
"I thought it best to mention now, rather than it be discovered later and I be accused of hiding anything. In truth, I was with a caravan for six months when I first left Brevoy. Their ways and mine are... somewhat at odds, shall we say."
"A Sczarni's caravan, I recon. Why at odds?"
The night is dark. The moon is at its newest, barely a sliver in the night sky. The rain has stopped, but there is a cool north breeze blowing over the Greenbelt. Activity at the post begins to wane as the night deepens. Soon, the guards at their posts are the only things stirring besides yourselves.
Talia raises an eyebrow as she shakes Edric's hand, the fatigue of the day quickly washing away. Interesting. Called by his god, much like Magna by hers. He'll be useful.
She's not so sure about the guardsman, but gives the man a slight curtsy in return for his bow. He knew the proper etiquette of a Brevic Court, that was obvious, and if nothing else, it could be useful in the months to come. I'll need some help in the court, if I'm to grow my house's honor. Giving the guardsman a thoroughly scrutinizing look, Talia asks, "How does one come about such manners, when he's been raised by thieves and mercenaries?"
"Indeed, not just a guard then. My apologies for any offense caused."
Talia looks out at Kestin's men, one on each of the other towers, shifting on their feet, trying to stay warm. "We could use some more guards. But that isn't all that we need. More than guardsmen, we need individuals with talent, drive, and tenacity. And you both seem to have it."
"We have a charge, a legitimate and lawful duty from Brevoy to map the Greenbelt and squash the bandit menace under the heels of our boots. We've had some success with both, but both tasks remain incomplete... and we may be losing some of our band soon. Your skillsets lend you to more than standing watch in the cold northern wind. Would you be interested in joining us, when we head out of the Post next? Payment would be an equal share of anything recovered, and the chance to make names for yourselves and your families."
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At Edric question she takes a step forward.
"I am Magnitofera Skeller, Shieldmaiden of Torag, at your service. And you are talking to Lady Talia Khavortorov, leader of this enterprise."
"My thanks Magnitofera Skeller, may the stars shine bright upon your forge and luck aid your arm in battle. Might I ask what brings a follower of the Dwarf-Father so far from the holds? It must be quite a tale.
He turns back to Talia as Naralesh engages Vosil in conversation. "My goddess called me here and I am her servant - I will happily join in your quest. As for a name, my family is long gone and I care not for my own - I simply wish to do good with my time here."
Speech over he turns, gazing wistfully at the dark sky for a few moments, before sinking onto his haunches to speak to Kaalib at his own height.
"Fortune has favoured us both with this meeting Kaalib, diplomat and envoy of the Sootscale tribe. It is a pleasure to meet you and I hope that you are willing to consider me an ally without unease. As I just said to Lady Khavar...Khavortorov" He stumbles a bit over the unfamiliar surname, which slips out of his mouth in a rush the second time around. "I am here simply to do good, if I can assist you and your tribe then I will be delighted to do so.
"I thought it best to mention now, rather than it be discovered later and I be accused of hiding anything. In truth, I was with a caravan for six months when I first left Brevoy. Their ways and mine are... somewhat at odds, shall we say.""A Sczarni's caravan, I recon. Why at odds?"
Vosil briefly polishes the fingernails of his right hand on the front of his doublet, buying time while he considers what to say. "Ahem. Not all Varisians are Sczarni - but that might be a conversation for another time. I would say that the primary area of disagreement was on respect for the law; they didn't have any, and I did. Or say rather, they had no regard for non-Varisian laws, if the result suited their own family."
Vosil has broken the law a time or two himself; but he didn't do so under the delusions that he had a divine right to do so, or that it didn't apply to him - he just hoped like Hell not to get caught.
"We have a charge, a legitimate and lawful duty from Brevoy to map the Greenbelt and squash the bandit menace under the heels of our boots. We've had some success with both, but both tasks remain incomplete... and we may be losing some of our band soon. Your skillsets lend you to more than standing watch in the cold northern wind. Would you be interested in joining us, when we head out of the Post next? Payment would be an equal share of anything recovered, and the chance to make names for yourselves and your families."
Vosil blinks as it's offered him on a plate, and runs a forefinger and thumb along his mustache and beard. Maybe he'll have to reconsider the personal deity thing - Desna certainly seems to be answering his prayers with alacrity. She talks well, that's a certainty; maybe she truly is noble born. Something to consider. But...
"I freely admit, I have been in search for a new task. However, Lady, let me say honestly what we both know. There is no 'Brevoy' - it is a fiction. The Surtovas fight to hold what they have grabbed, and the Major Houses prowl around the carcase like jackals, while the minor Houses, none of whom can even name their great-grandfather, much less-"
He breaks off. There is such a thing as too much honesty. "Anyway. Be that as it may. Forgive me. There is a time for tact and diplomacy; and I can do both. But there is a time for plain speaking and truthfulness, too."
"So, Lady, tell me truthfully. For whom would I be working?"
"My thanks Magnitofera Skeller, may the stars shine bright upon your forge and luck aid your arm in battle. Might I ask what brings a follower of the Dwarf-Father so far from the holds? It must be quite a tale.
The very observant Edric discovers a secret none of the "old" companions of Magna has realized yet. At his question, the Dwarf eyes shows a pang of sorrow only a broken heart can show. She takes care of hiding it, and only show it for a second, but he discovers part of her secret in that instant.
She quickly smiles, a gleam in her eyes.
"May the stars shine on all of us. I came to help build a new world, forging a new kingdom in this lands. It would be helpful to have luck on our side in our mission."
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Stiffening bit as Vosil begins his insult of the minor houses, the slightest frown plays across Talia's lips. However, the lady doesn't miss a beat when the Lore Warden asks his many-layered question. Instead, Talia holds her right hand palm up, facing the darkened sky, and gesturing around her, Talia gives the guardsman Vosil a smile that doesn't quite touch her eyes.
"You'd be working for Magna, and Naralesh, and the Levetons, Dregan, Kesten, Kaalib, Asha, Gavriil"... Ok, probably not Gavriil... "The good farmers outside these gates and the guards in these towers and the hunters and trappers that come and go and do business from this post. And me. You'd be working for me."
"As to your... opinions as to the state of Brevoy, well, I can't put you at ease. Politics are everywhere that people are, even out here in the grasslands. And I'm afraid I don't know you well enough to talk much of politics, Master Comarenza, but I can tell you're an educated man. Surely you know that to a Surtova, the notion that Brevoy is a "fiction" is a very dangerous notion indeed. And believe me, you'd not want to cross the Surtovas."
"Perhaps talk of the politics of Brevoy is a conversation to be had later, when we've earned each other's respect, and after you've accepted the generous offer in front of you, and not on a blustery evening amidst company that would be bored to tears with the intricacies of the Lodovkas and the Lebedas."
Ah yes, now you know why the name "Khavortorov" has been bugging you so! You remember word of a recent event - or rather series of events, starting with a rather seditious play that appeared on the scene in the southlands of Brevoy some months back. The playwright, a young redheaded ingenue, brought the play on the road, the first stop being the capital, where its themes of decline of empire, incompetence of the ruling caste, and incest were not so well received. The play received a quick curtain, and the ingenue left town quickly in the night. It seems someone struck a deal to get her far away from the Surtovas. If she lives, the power of the south will be increased. And if she dies, well, she won't be terribly missed...
Vosil nods, acknowledging the point. "It is an extremely generous offer, and one for which I am deeply grateful. Forgive my inquisition: I have recently returned from playing - and losing - the Great Game of Houses in Taldor, where none makes free of their generosity without some selfish aim. Suspicion is a hard habit to break. Especially since I was not nearly suspicious enough."
"As for the Surtovas..." he snorts. Well, maybe she's right. They may be nothing but gangsters, but out here they're what counts for royalty, gods help them all. "I will accept your advice - and your offer - with my sincere thanks, Lady."
He bows low, again. Doubtless he will discover in time for whom he is truly working. It's interesting that the wench didn't mention her own House at all; he wonders what that means.
There is a moment of quiet atop the tower. The howl of a wolf, far away to the south, punctuates the silence.
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The very observant Edric discovers a secret none of the "old" companions of Magna has realized yet. At his question, the Dwarf's eyes show a pang of sorrow only a broken heart can show. She takes care of hiding it, and only show it for a second, but he discovers part of her secret in that instant.
She quickly smiles, a gleam in her eyes.
"May the stars shine on all of us. I came to help build a new world, forging a new kingdom in this lands. It would be helpful to have luck on our side in our mission."
Edric, not being a fool, does not visibly respond to the flash of vulnerability that Magna showed him.
"A most noble goal my lady. If it is not an imposition may I inquire as to when you offer your prayers to the Forgefather? I myself offer prayer as the stars appear in the sky but I would be honoured to join you in your devotions if you will permit it."
As the political conversation dies down Edric looks around at the group. These are brave people, men and women of conviction with a mission that is righteous. Her will has rarely been clearer.
"I will accept your offer Lady Khavortorov, with one reservation. I do not work for anyone but Her. I believe it is Her will that I join you and aid in your mission here, but I will join as a partner, not as a subordinate. She is the only one I serve. If this is acceptable then you have my oath upon it. If not then I cannot in good conscience accept - My freedom has been taken from me before and I will not face it again."
"A most noble goal my lady. If it is not an imposition may I inquire as to when you offer your prayers to the Forgefather? I myself offer prayer as the stars appear in the sky but I would be honoured to join you in your devotions if you will permit it."
Magna lets a sweet smile show.
"I am afraid I practice my workship of the Dwarf Greatfather in a different way other races do it. I praise him with the musical and clear sound of the hammer and anvil resonating on Raw Iron, or with the flash of a weapon while striking the enemies of good, even if they hid behind a smile."She eyes the "Sczarni" and the Kobold while saying that last part.
"There is nothing to forgive, Master Comarenza - suspicion is not a bad trait, pointed in the right direction. Welcome."
Turning to Edric, Talia regards the man for a long moment. I thought the Varisian would be the difficult one. If She sends you to us, then it doesn't matter what your role is, correct? You are but a servant to Her will? In a way, your freedom is not yours to give then? But that was a conversation for another time.
"Worry not - no one is subordinate here, and we're not slavers." Talia Glances to Gavriil. "Your freedom is yours, and if at any time you need to leave our merry band, you're free to do so. If that meets your conditions, Edric, then welcome."
"Being free men, you are of course welcome to stay up until the rooster crows, but I'm afraid I'm going to take my leave. There's still much to be done tonight."
Giving a quick curtsy, Talia makes her way down the stairs, and heads to Oleg's storeroom. Grabbing a lantern and a pulling a chair up to a crate, Talia spreads some parchment atop it hunched over, starts writing.
Hours later, the playwright straightens, sighing as a twinge in her back shoots a jabbing pain up her side. This writing on boxes, sleeping in a common room, gods, Dregan's snoring, meeting people in the rain... it simply can't continue.
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The next morning, Talia goes to find Oleg, and drops a sack of coin and jewelry at the store owner's feet. "I need you to find me some laborers, and have them build a house just outside these walls. It will need five rooms; a bedroom of course, and a bath, with a large tub, a mirror, and a dressing area. A lavatory, with all the amenities a lady would need. A kitchen with a nice-sized hearth, not attached to the rest of the dwelling. And lastly, I need an office, nicely appointed, with a desk and at least enough space to meet with a handful of persons. I'd also like plenty of windows, and a fireplace in every room for the winter. The house should be located south of the trading post, so that I can get inside the gates quickly if needed, and to take the best advantage of the sunlight."
"If you can arrange the construction, and Svetlana can help with the decoration, there's a hundred gold in it for the both of you. The rest in that sack should cover the hiring and supplies - let me know if you need more."
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Next, its off to find Kaalib. Locating the kobold, Talia crouches and offers the creature a warm smile. "Kaalib, I hope if goes without saying that as long as you accompany us, you are guaranteed an equal share. And of course, if you ever need to leave, you only need ask. I realized last night we never extended the formality."
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Last, its Gavriil. Finding the Scoundrel of the Greenbelt packing his horse, Talia stands for awhile watching him, her expression stony, until he begins to fidgit uncomfortably. Moving quickly up to him, Talia grabs Gavriil by the neck and pulls him in for one kiss, long, passionate, and final. Pushing him away, the playwright turns and as she walks out the door, says over her shoulder, "I understand."
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"Your reassurance is all I needed Lady Khavortorov. I look forward to our journeying together.
Magna lets a sweet smile show.
"I am afraid I practice my workship of the Dwarf Greatfather in a different way other races do it. I praise him with the musical and clear sound of the hammer and anvil resonating on Raw Iron, or with the flash of a weapon while striking the enemies of good, even if they hid behind a smile."
She eyes the "Sczarni" and the Kobold while saying that last part.
Edric turns to Magna. "My lady, would you be kind enough to give me a short tour of the outpost, we arrived late and I would appreciate knowing where everything is before we all turn in?"
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After a short walk, taking them out of easy earshot of the rest Edric turns to Magna. "I assumed from your reaction that your tale in the holds is not a happy one. I do not want to pry or cause you undue pain but if you would like to talk to me about it I would be happy to listen.
On a separate note, why are you so opposed to Vosil and your companion the kobold?"
Oleg, Svetlana, and Kesten listen wide-eyed as Talia lists her requirements for her home. "C-certainly, Miss Talia." Oleg stammers as she leaves.
Kesten finds Talia after she leaves Gavriil. "Are you certain about this house idea, Talia?" He waves a hand to stop her protest about meddling in her affairs. "This land is far from safe. A home like that just screams: 'Look! We have a wealthy person here!' We haven't settled the bandit issue yet. It doesn't matter how close you are to the gate, we can't protect you if something happens. I'd suggest you reconsider."
Vosil is learning that it is not hard to discern Talia's location: simply follow the sound of the nearest disagreement. In this case, it is the guard Captain - what was his name? Oh yes.
"I'm afraid I must agree with Captain Garess, Lady. I understand that things are crowded here, with two new arrivals; and that your circumstances are not what you were brought up to. From what I hear, you have coped admirably thus far - more than admirably: you have led a disparate group through great danger, safely." He glosses over Naralesh's eyepatch, and Gavriil's departure. Mere facts. is using Rhetoric, in whose presence such petty things as facts can only cower, shivering.
He smiles: levity. "As you yourself said, there is still work to be done taming these lands. One day, I will tell my grandchildren that I was here when you did not even have a house! And they will not believe me, because the house you have will be... magnificent."
He sighs: gravity. "One of the perils of being Lore Warden, Lady, is that one is ever aware of how vulnerable one is. Captain Garess speaks no more than the truth - your dwelling could abut the gate itself, and yet you would be too far to protect fully. And without you, would the group hold together?"
Finally, eye contact: honesty. 'twas good advice you gave me, on politics, earlier; I offer this in return by way of compliment."
Magna leads Edric in a tour of the place, which she proudly describes. she also tries to avoid Edric question.
"Leaving home is always sad, especially for dwarfs. Especially for girls like me. But Torag wants for me to help the Stolen Lands, and I will find comfort in doing his will. And I am sure I will find comfort in your advice and help on this mission. It is always welcome to get the strength of another pious warrior of good."
She turns to see the others.
"But I fear I don't extend that trust to everyone. I am afraid of the Greenbelt bandits sending a spy among us, a charming smile on a friendly face, getting amongst to learn our secrets, our plans, ready to plunge a dagger in our backs. Sczarni are known to take advantage of those who trust them. And about the Kobold and his kin... I accepted to let them flee this lands with their lives, which I thought was a graceful concession, and now I find a warren of those vile creatures in the middle of our lands, ready to poison our work, and cause all the trouble his kind are known to, and one of them riding next to us."
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Gavriil watches after Talia's receding form. Even after she disappears into the post, he stares for what seems like an eternity.
'Do you?' He asks to no one but the night sky.
Without another word, the Scoundrel of the Greenbelt mounts his horse, and rides out into the night.
Talia nods. "I appreciate the advice, Kesten, Master Comarenza. I'll think of a compromise that keeps my safety from being a concern. We'll have to solve this bandit problem soon, Kesten, or I'll be forced to buy the Trading Post and put the Levetons in the guesthouse."
"And Master Comarenza, you are correct. My house will be magnificent. I suggest you enjoy your day. We'll likely be hitting the trail again soon."
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Finding Oleg again, Talia shrugs apolgetically. "I'm afraid I got a bit ahead of myself - our guard captain feels I jeopardize my safety by putting a house outside these walls, and after some reflection, I'm inclined to agree with him."
"However, I made a promise of payment to you that I'd like to keep. You've got four beds in your outbuilding, and we're growing in population every day. I'll be giving up my bed, and I'll give that 100 gold to you for the rental of your storage building for the next five months. That's a nice monthly rent for a room. I'll need the goods there moved out, but you've got plenty of room in your dwelling. And I'll need a desk a lantern, a sofa, and a couple of chairs. There's another fifty gold for you to procure those things for me from Restov."
"Thank you for your patience. I'll admit I'm a bit rash at times, and I'm sorry to walk back from our agreement. Hopefully the money is worth the inconvenience."
The Kobold returns the courtesy to the Lore Warden with a practice bow of his own. This one was treating him with the same respect as the Abadaran temple had, perhaps he would find a bit more of a place in this world than he thought. He knew that Talia would at least be able to understand him, and Naralesh, it seemed that he'd have more of a relationship with people who took the effort to learn his language anyhow. As other conversations branched off, he leaned in and spoke quietly to the Varisian.
But the desire to better one's people is often displayed under threat of death and dismemberment. It's a hard line to make changes, and I'm in no less danger here than I would be in my own home. New ideas are dangerous to some, even if not embracing them would result in destruction.
I appreciate your cosmopolitan understanding and your manners more than you may know. Thank you for your civility, I sincerely hope it becomes contagious."
As Talia reached down and offered him an equal share in the destruction of bandits, Kaalib was faced with something he didn't quite expect. If she was being honest with him that it was merely an oversight, then perhaps it was more necessary that he provide more of his opinions. In any case, he wasn't going to let this opportunity pass by. If it was time to get things straight, he'd do so himself.
"I appreciate the gesture, even if it doesn't seem to be held by the whole of your party. I am already in your debt for your dealings with my people, and for the rescue from imprisonment and certain death at the hands of my torturers. It's a debt I intend to repay, but that's something that can't be fixed with mere money or words. When I can save your life and the life of your people, then we'll be even and you will be able to see me as a person worthy of respect. At that time I should have enough influence over my own tribe to subjugate them myself if need be and then we can be proper friends with an even share."
It may be offensive, but he couldn't help adding at the end, "Until then, I'll be happy enough to receive proper wages."
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She turns to see the others.
"But I fear I don't extend that trust to everyone. I am afraid of the Greenbelt bandits sending a spy among us, a charming smile on a friendly face, getting amongst to learn our secrets, our plans, ready to plunge a dagger in our backs. Sczarni are known to take advantage of those who trust them. And about the Kobold and his kin... I accepted to let them flee this lands with their lives, which I thought was a graceful concession, and now I find a warren of those vile creatures in the middle of our lands, ready to poison our work, and cause all the trouble his kind are known to, and one of them riding next to us."
"Suspicion is like an eclipse of the sun, it casts shadows all across the land and makes even the best ideas and the staunchest friends seem veiled and dangerous. Lady Magan, I can understand your concern but if nothing else consider logic. I have been travelling in these parts for months now and it was barely a week ago I first heard of your group. From what information Mrs Leveton has let slip your... our party has been here for a matter of weeks at most. This is not much time for you to be deemed a threat.
The lords of Brevoy, and other kingdoms have tried to purge these lands before and the bandits have always ridden them out. I think it is far more likely they will simply wait until we meet with accident or give up. Seven men and women is not an army." Edric shrugs as they both observe the rest of the group. "Of course I have only just arrived here but Vosil had a golden opportunity to kill me on the road here - if he were a spy then my presence here helps him not a whit, but here I am, unharmed. I believe he is what he says - a fundamentally good man who was once less so. Like iron before the hammer of life has beaten away the impurities."
Vosil struggles with translating a language he's previously only read into the spoken form; his accent could use some work, but he listens to Kaalib closely.
"No thanks are necessary for what you call my civility: we are alone out here in a hostile wilderness. A certain amount of trust in one's companions is obligatory, else I might miss the true dangers."
"As for your hopes for your people, I wish you well in your endeavours. We could certainly use allies who will abide by written commitments. But old ways and habits of thinking are resistant to change. As you have already discovered. But I would like to believe that reason and goodwill can triumph over suspicion and resentment. Frankly, the alternative is simply too awful to contemplate."
Magna frowns at Edric comments.
"If you say you can vouch for Mr. Comarenza, I will extend to him the chance to gain my trust."
19 Gozran 4707
The sun rises on the northern Greenbelt, a clear blue. spring morning. Nat is out early, working the farm plot and cursing the predations of the local rabbits. Kesten is already getting the report from the night guards, while Asha prepares for a patrol.
Svetlana has breakfast ready: fresh eggs and a large pile of bacon. "Well, we have a lot of bacon...a LOT of bacon." She says. "Not sure what we're going to do with it all..." Her comment trails off as she moves into the kitchen.
Outside, Oleg has hung strips of meat from Tuskgutter's corpse. He mutters to himself as he works to continue butchering the massive boar. "Salt some...aye. Jerk some...aye. Bacon fer breakfast...of course!"