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Thus begins your expedition to the Stolen Lands. As you travel the forlorn miles of the South Rostland Road, you consider the political events that have led to your group's charter. Tension amongst the Brevoy noble houses has been rising inexorably and the scourge of civil war now seems inevitable. As a prelude to the approaching conflict, Restov has sent intrepid groups of explorers south to colonize the greenbelt with the hope of both securing its southern flank and possibly seeding a future client state. Without such an alliance, Rostland stands little hope of withstanding Issian aggression. Perhaps your status as free agents will delay a response by House Sutova, but with the aid of the notoriously insidious Issian intelligence networks, such ruses cannot long remain undetected. Furthermore, as you gaze upon the trackless wilderness of the Rostland frontier, you wonder on the viability of any form of civilization rising from this bleak landscape. Many would be conquerors, from the Taldans to the River Kings, have tried and failed to tame this land. Perhaps, by divine providence, your fate will be different.
Despite the grand strategic machinations swirling in Restov, your immediate objectives are clear - explore the Greenbelt and defeat the bandits whom use it as a safe haven. The bandits of the Stolen Lands have developed a well-earned reputation for depredation and cruelty. A mysterious leader has risen amongst their ranks to consolidate the disparate factions. Now, the bandits routinely strike north into the Rostland frontier, razing and pillaging all those who would stand in their way. Such attacks threaten to disrupt the southern Rostland trade routes and to undermine the lucrative mercantile exchanges that underpin the Rostland economy. The attacks use extreme violence and nefarious tactics to incite fear within the populace - cowering those who may otherwise resist. The brutality of the banditry is further aggravated by the apocalyptic warnings spouted by many of the brigands to their victims – dark prophecy reminiscent of the insane ravings of Groteus. There is no doubt in your mind that these brigands must be put to the sword.
You attempt to shake your dark thoughts by studying the gnarled, moss laden trees that densely crowd both edges of the road. The branches of the ancient cypress and junipers interlock to form an impenetrable canopy of creepers and dead leaves. Black, inky shadows hide all manner of beasts - many of them small and harmless, but not all. Among the trees, the melting snows give proof that the frozen grip of winter is slowly releasing its cold embrace. The biting northeasterly wind that stiffly bends the tree boughs reminds you that even though summer has now arrived in the southern climes, at these far northern latitudes, winter is never far away. You remind yourself once again to be weary of both nature and its denizens - there are many ways to die in this unforgiving land.
Ahead, the crumbling battlements of a weathered fort can be seen. Finally, this must be Oleg's Trading Post. In the hundred miles that you have traveled since leaving Restov, this is the first sign of humanity that you have encountered. The rutted South Rostland Road meanders up to the old fort before turning east and becoming little more than a trail. Atop the battlements of the fort, rotted catapults stand watch - once proud sentinels now hobbled by the ravages of time. Beyond the catapults a thin, black column of smoke from a cooking fire contrasts sharply against the backdrop of the sapphire blue sky. The acrid smell of burning wood, laced with the tantalizing smells of roasted venison, fill the air. The open gates of the fort beckon you forward into the courtyard beyond.
Connor pulls his hood up against the cold biting wind as he nudges Cinder to move quicker toward the Trading Post.
Is it weakness to admit I long for the hearth again? Bah, man, that soft life is behind you now ... always forward.
Seres laughs aloud at the sight of the dilapidated fort, "Perhaps its meant to fool would-be bandits that its only an empty ruin."
The faint sound of hooves beating upon the dirt road grows louder. Approaching from the north, a cloaked horseman trots at a modest pace towards you. A staff rests upon his lap, and several packed bags ostensibly contain a fair collection of goods.
The hooded rider gradually slows his andalusian's pace to a halt as he nears you. The horse's dusty black shins and flaring black nostrils provide sharp contrast to its otherwise white body.
Gently patting the tired horse's neck, he glances around at the sky, the earth, the forest to the west, and to the decaying fortress before him. Silently for a time, the man in shades of tan and green observes and listens. Removing his cloak's hood, the rider reveals himself to be half-elven, obvious from the combination of his distinguishing ears and thin goatee.
Without acknowledging the others yet, he responds to the laughing elf in a soothing baritone voice, "Hardly an effective ruse, with that black cloud drawing their attention for a mile round, at least."
His head then turns towards each of you. Soulful and intelligent brown eyes make meaningful contact with yours. Despite the cruel wind's whipping about of his long, straight hair, the half-human bears a calmly serene visage. He greets you all with a slight bow, hand respectfully held over his chest.
"Hail, friends. Aldarion, at your service."
"While I'm sure you're both right, it's freezing out here. I obviously got an invite to some sort of fae court meeting though. Appears I may have been the butt of another joke," the lean, young man with a rugged countenance and 3-day beard rubs his shoulders before he takes the others' hands in turn.
"Connor Lake, this is Cinder, she bites." he states patting his horse's neck. " Well met. It's cold out here, let me get the first round ... and pray they have something distilled."
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"The jokes of the fey will oft end with you tied up in the forest, or fighting illusory foes just for their twisted amusement. I pray this isn't one of those cases," Seres chuckles with a wink. "Hopefully they have something better than trail bread and water..."
"Ah, but where are my manners." Stroking the andalusian's mane, "And this is Besoneth, though her friends call her Bessy." The horse snorts.
"Indeed," Aldarion smiles back at Seres as if remembering a particular encounter, "The fey folk are a most... capricious people." By his tone, however, an unspoken query lingers in the air: And if not the fey, what other sorts of peoples or beasts might we find within?
Taking the hint about the cold, Aldarion proceeds to follow along into the front gate. Yet while seemingly calm, a trained eye would notice he's quite careful to take in his surroundings. The only hint of his suspicion is in his brief advice to the others, "Keep alert."
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Making a final purchase of cold weather gear on his way out of Restov Ezekial wonders about the folded charter in his pack. "By sword or rope." he swallows hard. Its a good thing that you are repentant ol' boy. Truth be told that you feel bad every time you lift something, even if your need for the thing is much greater than its rightful owner.
As he passed through the manned gate he watched those seeking admittance to the city being searched and paying their coins to the guard. He admitted that he felt a certain sickness in leaving civilization behind. Restov represented much of what he knew. In a city there were plenty of faces to get lost in. Out there it was going to be different. Everyone would likely know everyone and any deeds done, with good or ill intent, would be long remembered. He contemplated this as he walked, glad that he paid good gold for the winter clothing he just purchased instead of trying to lift them from the shop. Paying was good practice. And he needed practice.
As he walked he absently flicked a dagger from its sheath in his sleeve into his hand and back. He wondered of the wisdom of traveling with only light weapons but those were what he knew. He kept an eye out for trouble and wished for a group to travel with but at the same time relished the time alone on the way to Oleg's. Time enough to see who else "won" a charter when he arrived. he thought. He would have to be careful of these new faces as he was pretty sure each would try to use him for their own purposes. They always did, didn't they? Just like those swordlords giving him a charter like he had won a lottery when he knew it served their purposes for him to be here. Well it was up to him to watch out for himself, just like it always had been.
It was with these dark thoughts that he saw the gathering of men ahead on the road not too far from what must be Oleg's trading post. Two were mounted and one afoot like himself. At least some of the group had sharp eyes as he could see he had been spotted. That was good and bad, but good to know, and he'd make the most of it. Checking his hair that the tale tell signs of his elven heritage - those damnable ears - he haled the group as he advanced. He often passed for human and did what he could to make sure that was a person's first impression of him.
Hello on the road. he called as he walked, making good time. By the look of you you are also from the city and new to these remote lands, at least some of you. By any chance are you also holders of the Swordlord's charter? as Ezekial came closer you could better make out the details of his appearance and dress. His clothing was sensible for a traveler's and you are pretty sure he is wearing leather armor under his outer layers. He looks nearly unarmed with only the hilts of two daggers jutting from his belt and what looks like a hiking stick he might have picked up from the trail in one hand. His pack looks light and its evident he is in need of a bath as he closes with you.
As you stand before Oleg’s trading post, in the frigid morning air, you note that the ancient fort must have originally been designed to guard the Brevoy frontier. The fort is surrounded by a wooden palisade that stands ten feet tall and is anchored on the corners by twenty foot square watch towers. You see signs of repair along the palisade walls where someone has attempted to shore up the rotting wooden planks. It is clear that the fort is in no condition to repel a determined assault.
Gathering your resolve, you pass through the open, thirty foot wide wooden gate to note an open courtyard with four surrounding buildings. Within the courtyard is a wagon, several large tables and a fire pit. Around the perimeter of the courtyard are what appear to be a guesthouse, a stable and two other smaller wooden buildings.
As you approach, a young, attractive woman, dressed in black, exits the gatehouse to attend to a large stew pot steaming over the cooking pit. She stops abruptly upon seeing you and then looks up to the gatehouse roof. There, you see an older man, with a shaved head and a thick black beard, working on the roof. The man pauses upon seeing you, but says nothing. The woman turns back to you, smiles, and then approaches. “Greetings, please come in! We’ve been expecting you. I’m Svetlana and that is my husband Oleg.” She points to the man on the roof, whom continues to stare at you with cold, distrusting eyes. “Finally, Restov has answered our summons. You’ve arrived just in time. What are your names? What have they told you about … our situation?”
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Ezekial watches the woman tend to her stew and his mouth waters. He smiles at her but does not yet speak. He can smell the savory smell of it from the gate. But then she mentions the summons and knows that there is some confusion here. Still he says nothing, thinking it better to get fed before he admits that Restov had not really sent him for any specific purpose. He looks to the other travelers wondering what they might say.
“Greetings, please come in! We’ve been expecting you. I’m Svetlana and that is my husband Oleg.” She points to the man on the roof, whom continues to stare at you with cold, distrusting eyes. “Finally, Restov has answered our summons. You’ve arrived just in time. What are your names? What have they told you about … our situation?”
Seres steps forward and bows to Svetlana, gracing her with a winning smile. "After miles of bland wilderness, you are sight for sore eyes. I am Seres, and I -- like my cohorts here -- have come at the beck of the Swordlords, per this charter. Other than a plague of bandits, I confess to know little about these lands."
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Having arrived a little later than the other three he had missed any exchanged the might have already made so,hHolding up a piece of parchment Ezekial pushes. I asked if you all are also holders of a charter? I was told to expect at least three others and that we were to meet at Oleg's trading post. I am Ezekial, a scout and sailor. I am most recently from Restov but earlier from Magnamar and the plains of Varisia. If we are traveling together I would know your names an vocations.
"Certainly, Ezekiel. I have one of those here as well." Connor rummaged around in his saddlebag and produces a scroll with the same seal. "I am Connor Lake, most recently of New Stetven, but I've left that behind for now to make my own way. I've been a stableboy, a guard and a sword for hire but I only take employ for those with a noble or chivalrous cause."
"As the faerie states, we are here to explore the land and bring the sword to the bandits here. Was that the nature of your request to Restov? Or is there more to share?"
Connor dismounts with practiced ease and moves to the fire to warm his hands, "Have you enough food and drink to part with some for my companions?"
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Svetlana smiles warmly at Seres before becoming more concerned, "It is a pleasure to meet you Seres. Yes, a plague of bandits is precisely the problem." She then turns to Connor, "Sir, did you say you are here to explore the green belt? Those fools in Restov did not send you here to help us?" At this Oleg throws his hammer down in disgust and stomps off to the other side of the roof, out of sight. Svetlana continues with growing anger, "These bandits have been terrorizing us for months. They extort our money, steel our goods and scare off what few customers we have. And you're here to explore the Greenbelt?" She forcefully points her finger in Connor's chest, "You're not here to help us. No, you're here to serve Restov and yourselves, I'm sure." She then holds up her bare left hand. "My wedding ring. They took my wedding ring! The one object I cherish in life - they take. And Oleg ..." She pauses, fighting back tears. "They almost killed him. The next time they probably will. He has his pride, you know." She turns as tears begin streaming down her cheek.
Connor takes a half step back under the woman's onslaught, "Madam, I chose my words poorly. Certainly we were given the authority, nay, direction to root out banditry here. I confess I was unaware of your specific grievance, but perchance you can set us on the proper path. Granting you aid is my solemn duty and if my newfound companions agree, we shall endeavor to take care of your concerns first as we Hunt this mysterious bandit lord."
Connor shows genuine care on his face as he forgets food for the moment and focuses on her. He addresses the lady and speaks loud enough for his voice to carry, "Can either of you give us details on your latest attackers? Do you know anything of this new leader or the prophesies they are purported to be spewing? "
He finishes with an open armed gesture and a gentle smile, "Who knows? If we get to rooting them out quickly enough, there's a chance we may discover your wedding ring!"
Aldarion is perhaps the first to notice the last to arrive at the trading post. He offers the man his arm in greeting, "Aldarion, at your service."
Answering his question, "It seems the Lords thought it wise to include a master gardener amidst the agents' ranks."
The robed man waits a very short moment for his pun to take hold, perhaps causing his new companions to wonder what noble imbecile thought it wise to send a mere gardener to tame the Stolen Lands. Tame the crops, perhaps, but bandits and other dangers?
His facial expression cracks into a smile too quickly, however, giving it away too soon.
I really shouldn't jest. I only make myself laugh more often than not, she used to tell me.
"In fact the worst the nobility can be accused of in my case is to ensure that you do not die from some wild disease, nor lose your way." He adds as if from experience, "Easy enough to do, I can assure you."
The patient gardener observes as their hosts grow angrier by the moment. He now steps forward to reassure the post's inhabitants of their support. "Please, do not fret. Of course we will assist you, regardless of what the Lords may not have told us."
Aldarion chooses his words wisely, implying a distinction between the Swordlords whom this couple apparently has no great love for and his own new band of agents.
Before continuing, he glances momentarily to gauge the expressions of his new companions. He knows very little about them, having just met them for the first time. But Connor's words give him hope, for he hopes he does not speak out of turn when he includes them.
Continuing, he adds matter-of-factly, "If bandits are thieving and threatening you, that does clearly fall under our jurisdiction, after all." Repeating himself to help calm down the angry couple, "Yes, we are here to assist you Svetlana and Oleg."
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Well met then Aldarion. It seems to me that having a gardener in these wild lands should indeed prove useful.
Ezekial steps out from behind Connor almost shyly and contributes. I might be sent to you by Restov Ma'm but I could never just stand by and watch open banditry take place and not try to stop it. You just tell us what's been happening and see if we don't come up with a plan to help.
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Svetlana visibly calms at hearing Connor's words. She wipes the tears from her eyes and attempts to regain her composure. "Perhaps you may be able to assist then. Truth be told, you're the only hope we have. I don't know anything of the bandit lord or prophecies that you speak of. All I know is that the thugs whom extort us are the basest of human scum. And they are scheduled to visit us again tomorrow. For it is 'tax collection day', as they like to call it."
She pauses and attempts a smile. "But where are my manners? You must be starved. Let's discuss this business further over stew. You are welcome to bed your horses down in the stable. If you think you will be staying, rooms in the guest house are 5sp a night and the stable cost is 2sp per stall."
Svetlana leads you into the guest house where she offers you seats at the dining room table. As she leaves to prepare the meal, Oleg walks in carrying a flagon of ale and mugs. He gruffly places the flagon on the table and motions for you to partake, "I appreciate your offer to help. We've been asking Restov for weeks now to send soldiers, but to no avail. The fact that they sent you here not so much to help us but to clear the land is frustrating." He pauses a moment and looks out the window before looking back at you solemnly, "I came here to escape civilization. I hate having to ask Restov for anything. But these criminals are more than what I can deal with."
Svetlana reappears carrying bowls of hearty stew and warm bread. She serves you and sits down at the table next to Oleg. "The first time the bandits visited, there were a dozen of them, led by a cloaked man armed with a bow, and a woman who carried two small hatchets. The woman did the majority of the talking. She had a black humor and seemed to really enjoy telling us of the dark fate that she intended for us. This woman was particularly sharp and observant, whereas the man seemed to be a bit more crude and foolish. The woman is the one whom stole my ring. She stole it as payment for 'not shortening Oleg’s reach' with one of the those bloody hatches." At this point she takes her husband's hand. Oleg simply stares out the window with smoldering anger.
"On the second and third visits, only the crude hooded man accompanied the bandits. On the second visit, he came with only six other men, while on the third he only came with four. We suspect that the bandits have let down their guard and now believe us to be completely cowed. Hopefully, when they visit tomorrow they’ll be even fewer in number, and hopefully the scary woman with the hatchets won’t be with them. I expect they will be arriving at first light, as they normally do."
Svetlana now turns to you expectantly, "Are you still willing to help us? What should we do?"
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Ezekial graciously accepts the food and eats with relish. Between first and second servings he seems to be thinking and he finally comments I do not like people being extorted. he says flatly. He looks to his traveling companions to judge their opinions before offering I will help. But if we are going to pull this off we are going to have to work as a team, the 4 of us and the 2 of you together. We will try to keep you out of danger but you will have a role to play getting the bandits into the walls where we can spring our trap. And we will need access to what resources you might have. Heck, we hardly know each other and need to talk about what each of us might can offer in the expected fight.
Aldarion smiles contentedly at Svetlana's offer of food. With a polite nod of gratitude, "You are a most gracious host. Thank you."
But inwardly, he wonders I do hope it is not beef stew... a vegetable stew would be a most welcome change of pace, however.
As their hosts provide more details about the bandits, the gardener maintains a mildly pleasant demeanor. He keeps his growing worry to himself, though. Skeptically, he glances at his new companions for a moment as Svetlana speaks: Well, the Lady Aldori did promise my younger companions would include able warriors and a powerful arcanist...
At last, he reassuringly nods in response to her repeated query for aid. Giving a knowing look to Oleg, "I confess I am no youngster myself." But he swiftly follows up with modest optimism now, "But I am confident my younger companions and I will bring these ruffians to justice." Looking to them, "Won't we, boys?"
Aldarion then candidly eyeballs the horse stable. "Your terms of payment for stabling are fair," he adds. "You must forgive me, but where I am from, trade is more commonly done by barter. I do hope you are agreeable to payment in goods?" The gardener looks pleadingly at his hosts. "I assure you, I have fine wares for you to choose from." He pats one of the saddlebags on Bessy as he begins to rattle off a few items in his inventory, "I have exotic black beans for instance from far away Garund, called coffee. They are a powerful stimulant, worth five copper bits per pound. I have a jar of honey, worth a gold crown per pound... and, oh lets see, a delightful sweetener made from the sap of the maple tree..." His voice trails off, abruptly preventing himself from yammering on and opting to wait for a response first.
To all, "I shall join you shortly for the meal." Smiling at Svetlana, "Smells delightful."
Aldarion turns toward the stables, and walks Bessy into one of the open stalls. After settling her in with some reassuring patting and providing her with an ample hay feast, the gardener makes sure it's only himself and perhaps other horses in the stable. Satisfied, he ensures his horse also has ample water by producing some magically from the ether. He wants to be modest about his abilities, not put on a magic show. He also rinses his hands off before making his way back over to the house.
Aldarion takes his seat at the dining table. Beef... ah well, such is the way of things. How to put this delicately...
When offered stew, Aldarion apologetically informs Svetlana, "I would love to. But, forgive me, it is part of my tradition to abstain from consuming animal flesh." He takes a piece of bread with a smile however, "Please, do not feel bad. I can eat bread, and indeed it is a treat for me." ...considering I have subsisted on berries alone for the past several days. He also graciously accepts drink if it is served.
The gardener slowly eats in silence, listening intently as his companions begin to discuss ideas about how to deal with the bandit problem...
Connor presses a gold crown into Svetlana's hand. "For me and the horse."
He wolfs down his meal and takes a couple quick swings of as he listens to their hosts' descriptions of the bandits. He listens to Ezekiel and Aldarion and nods in confirmation to their looks for support against the bandits, "I've given my word."
"I agree, Ezekiel, we shall need to pull them inside the fort where we can use the walls as cover from the archer. I confess this will restrict my ability to fight mounted where my greatest advantage lies. However, I am capable of fighting with my axe and Cinder can still be an asset to us in this fight."
"Is there anything in the fort itself that we can use? The catapults are no good and we'll need to leave the gates open to get their guard down. Oleg, have you any animal traps that we could prepare?"
The soldier gets up and steps outside to assess the area. "Let's hide the elf with the bow on a roof. Perhaps one of you two as well?" he looks to the owners, "The other will have to be down here to sell the ruse. I'd like to stay here with you as a new guest and to protect you once the arrows start flying. Cinder can stand near by, most bandits will ignore a horse if someone isn't on it."
"Ezekiel, are you quiet in battle? We could hide you in that wagon there, to emerge at the right time. Gardener ... do you fight?"
Oleg turns to Ezekial, "We will gladly help you where we can, but we are traders, not fighters. I also insist that Svetlana not be put in danger. If there is to be combat, I will want her to be able to quickly get to a secure position." Svetlana raises an eyebrow at this but bites her tongue. "Also, I need to know that you are committed to helping us in the long term. Driving off these bandits will only bring more. Your help will be of little use if you don't also protect us from the inevitable reprisal. I know I can't count on Restov to maintain an extended presence here, can I count on you?"
Svetlana smiles at the complements on the food, "Aldarion, I would be happy to make you a salad if that better suits your diet. Here on the frontier, we find that we can't afford to be too picky with our food. We take any form of protein that we can get." She gladly accepts any of Aldarion's trade goods as barter.
Oleg nods at Connor, "You seem to know what you're talking about. We'll do what you ask. You have free reign to inspect the fort and use what you need. No, I don't have any traps - demand from the local trappers greatly exceeds the available supply from Restov. I'm afraid our stock mostly consist of animal skins and furs. We also have some weapons, potions, and miscellaneous equipment. Since this is our livelyhood, I would ask that we be compensated for anything used."
Oleg turns to Ezekial, "We will gladly help you where we can, but we are traders, not fighters. I also insist that Svetlana not be put in danger. If there is to be combat, I will want her to be able to quickly get to a secure position." Svetlana raises an eyebrow at this but bites her tongue. "Also, I need to know that you are committed to helping us in the long term. Driving off these bandits will only bring more. Your help will be of little use if you don't also protect us from the inevitable reprisal. I know I can't count on Restov to maintain an extended presence here, can I count on you?"
Seres, who up until now was quietly enjoying his stew, looks up. "Well, we're here now and its a long ride back to Restov -- and what a dreary place that is. Rest assured, any trouble my new friends and I stir up, we'll see through to the end." He leaves unsaid what 'end' that might be, but punctuates with a wide smile.
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Ezekial is ready to put an end to the bandits but something is bothering him so he speaks. You have told us the price for staying inside your walls and now say that if we use any supplies in your defense then we must pay for them. If this is how things are to be then I ask you what price will you pay us to rid you of these bandits? Perhaps that service is worth some length of room and board at least?
"Payment is a job well done, ridding these lands of a plague of bandits. Something that we've been chartered to do anyhow." Connor shoots a sidelong glare at Ezekiel.
"That said, I don't have the coin to purchase that bow there, but it would behoove us to borrow it for the increased range. Seres, there, could use it. We will return it once finished with the battle. Should it break, I will make full restitution once I have the money. You have my word."
Turning to his fellow charter holders, "How about we douse the ground with some lamp oil? The gardener should be able to heave a lit torch on to that easily? "
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Seres's eyes glitter at the mention of the longbow. "Indeed, I could put it to good use, but I am short on coin. Perhaps a lease?"
Oleg smiles at Ezekial, "You and your team are welcome to use anything in the fort to stop these brigands. No payment is necessary - it is the least that we can do to assist you. I simply ask that we be compensated for anything lost or destroyed. As traders, this stock is our lifeblood - I'm sure you understand."
Oleg provides the oil, potions and longbow as requested.
Aldarion is agreeable to Svetlana's offer of salad. "If it is no bother, I thank you kindly."
Responding to Connor, "I'm afraid the art of combat is not my forte. But, I suppose I can manage with my staff and sling."
The gardener thoughtfully strokes his thin goatee as the plan begins to unfold. His eyes light up at one point, but his brows furrow at the mention of burning oil. After Oleg speaks, he at last makes a rather peculiar suggestion.
"Might anyone have a shovel to spare? And perhaps some burlap and spare rope?" His gaze turns to Connor. "Fire... that will not do at all, I'm afraid." Gesturing to indicate the premises, "Considering the flammability of this wooden fort, you see."
A half smile crooks his face now. "A trap is a good idea, yes. But while there remains some daylight left, perhaps it would be a good time to do a little gardening. Give a big... 'welcome'... to our guests tomorrow..." As the group awaits the rest of the gardener's plan, he seems only to remain lost in thought, leaving the enigma of his mind to linger in the air for a time...
Finally noticing the growing impatience on the others' faces, Aldarion is startled from his private formulations. "Oh, beg your pardon. It's just that I recall seeing some juniper bushes along the road on the way down." Gesturing to the open court on first entering the trade post, "We could get to work placing them about the open yard. Anywhere the bandits might trot or walk through..."
He pauses a moment to consider something before continuing. "In line with our ambush, there's a little old trick I learned, some time ago. I'd be able to trap the bandits. With the bushes, you see. Ensnared, they would be held down, and easier to manage. With my gardening skills, some burlap and rope, I could wrap them nicely, make them appear to be for sale, alleviating any potential suspicion. Or maybe they might think you've redecorated."
"Either way..." The gardener's voice trails off as he raises a hand to make a snatching or grasping gesture. He smiles before taking another mouthful of salad.
"I thank you," Seres says, giving the longbow a test. To Svetlana, he adds with a wink, "The others may be inspired by gold or justice, but I would happily stay if just to defend your beauty."
"Alright, "gardener", I have no problem with your plan with the shrubs. I'm not certain the bandits will notice them, but if they do, Oleg, you tell them you're expanding your selection of fruits."
Connor looks about thoughtfully pointing at various areas in the, "Oleg, you and I will be by the fire when they come in. I'll be making "breakfast". I'll leave Cinder by the gate, acting as if she's tied up. She won't be. You'll need to draw them into this open area, here . Zeke will be hidden in the wagon to close the gate quickly once they're in. Aldarion will cast his spell, and then he and Seres will pepper them with arrows and stones while Zeke, Cinder and I harry them at the fringes. Oleg, you'll need to either fight or retreat back to a safe place. Your wife should be locked in one of these buildings.
He looks around at the others. "I'll respect Aldarion's wishes with the oil and fire. Any other thoughts?"
Aldarion smiles with modest delight at the cavalier. After finishing crunching on a particularly juicy cherry tomato in his salad, "I fear that Zeke would find himself caught in the verdant trap, though, should he hide in the wagon. Zeke, perhaps you would fare better if you position yourself to one side of the open court, taking cover above from the wall walk perhaps, or from behind a building, if you'd prefer to engage the enemy up close?"
You wake from the austere guesthouse to find snow falling in the dim, pre-dawn morning light. Outside, a think layer of snow has accumulated on the bushes hastily planted by Aldarion the previous evening. Quickly you don your gear and assemble in the courtyard. You find that Oleg and Svetlana are already outside stoking the fire. Oleg approaches you nervously, "I think we're ready. I hope this plan of yours works - we'll do as you instructed." He then pauses before continuing. "Show no mercy to these fools. Let them be an example for the rest!"
You position yourselves and then wait. After about an hour after sunrise you hear the sounds of horses approaching from the south. "Tax day, Oleg! Time to pay your master."
Four men enter the open gates on horse back. They lead two pack horses donned with large saddlebags. The lead man is armed with a long bow. The other three have short swords drawn. Seeing Oleg, the bandit armed with the long bow dismounts and approach him. "We'll take our usual tithe and maybe a little of that fine woman of yours!" He eyes Connor suspiciously, "This isn't your business. Don't get involed."
Oleg grits his teeth but manages to keep his temper, "As you wish. I have the furs ready." Oleg opens the storage pen and disappears into the shadows within. The other three bandits dismount and begin opening the saddlebags on the pack horses.
Before dawn, the gardener rises from slumber. He looks outside to admire the falling snow. Before exiting the guest house, he performs some silent meditation.
Aldarion makes his way to the wall walk. Taking in the night sky deeply into his lungs, he exhales the frosty air slowly and calmly, observing the horizon for expected guests.
The sage gives the signal to all below once he has the specks in sight. He proceeds to count aloud, "Four bandits, six horses."
He pauses a moment. With a sense of foreknowing, he speaks "Perhaps they intend to take our gracious hosts for a ride. Yet it is they who will be going on a ride today... a ride to see the Lady of Graves."
He tells Ezekiel, with a smile, "Wait for my signal to close the gate. You will know the signal when you see it."
The sage leaves the wall-walk, long before they have much chance to get close enough to realize it's not Oleg up there. He makes his way to the guesthouse rooftop, and readies his sling. Muttering a few enigmatic syllables to himself, he briefly holds his hands in a prayer position. He then waits for the last bandit to enter before giving Ezekiel the signal...
Aldarion closes his eyes for a moment from atop the roof. He raises his free hand, wiggling his fingers as if they were serpents rising up from the ground. As the bandits begin to dismount, they are surprised and befuddled for a moment as they second-guess what they are seeing... for the snows appear to have suddenly begun to move of their own accord! Very quickly, however, it becomes clear that it is not the snows that move, but the bushes beneath the snows! Snow-topped juniper branches reach out to grapple both horse and bandit alike...
Connor states simply, "Repent your banditry or swing from the tree."
He draws his throwing axe and signals to Cinder to attack. Cinder will 5 foot step out of the barn and chomp at the nearest one.
Seres laughs aloud at Connors faux-offer and begins casting a spell.
The lead bandit is stunned by Connor's show of tenacity, "What did you just say to me?"
As the lead bandit reaches to draw an arrow he suddenly looks down to find roots pulling out of the earth and wrapping around his feet and locking him in place. Cries from the other bandits indicate that two of other three men have been similarly entangled. Ezekial fires his sling at the left most bandit and solidly hits the man in the head. Seres focuses his arcane energy and casts a sleep spell on the bandits - all four of the men drop to the ground. Cinder takes a bite of the left most bandit as he falls, but is unable to penetrate the man's leather armor. Connor draws his throwing axes and takes aim, but finds that no targets remain.
And with that, you realize the battle is over before it even has started.
Seeing all four of the men fallen asleep amidst the entangling bushes, the pleased gardener stands upright on the guesthouse rooftop.
"And how long will your enchantment last, Seres?" he calls out to the elf.
When he learns it will be a minute, Aldarion calls off his entangling plants with a wave of his hand. He immediately makes his way back to the ground level.
"Easy, girl." The sage begins to calm the riled horses with his soothing body gestures and reassuring words.
In between those soothing words, he advises Connor and the other agents, "I strongly suggest we quickly bind these men with rope. Once bound, we can properly interrogate them, and decide their fate afterwards."
"Huh, they didn't put up much resistance." Connor calls off Cinder and then rummages for some rope. He begins disarming then binding each bandit's hands and feet. He will then gather their gear on one of the tables.
He will take another length of rope and tie a noose. He looks around for a tree or sturdy spar on one of the buildings.
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Seres chuckles as the bandits slump over. "Silly bastards were just really tired, is all..."
"It will last just a minute, so if you want to tie them up, be quick."
The men begin waking almost immediately after you finish tying them up. The one hit by Ezekial's sling stone groans with pain. The lead bandit sits up and looks around with some confusion. Upon grasping the full situation he begins cursing, "How dare you attack us! We have more men on the way. If you let us go, maybe I'll ask them to go easy on you."
Seres raises an eyebrow, half-smirk on his face. "Maybe? Maybe we let you go and you bring back twenty of your friends. Or maybe we string you up along the battlements and scare your friends off. Or maybe you repent your wickedness and join our cause," he says the last with a wink at Connor. "Nah... I think our hosts might not approve, so probably just string you up then."