What is it about nobles and other ‘important’ people that makes them think they can always keep others waiting on them?
Six strangers sit in a large room within the expansive residence of the Lord Mayor of Restov, contemplating that very thought. Everyone gathered was invited to Restov to be part of an expedition to explore the Stolen Lands, a rough and lawless land to the south of Brevoy that insulates the nation from the River Kingdoms and Galt.
The large room that the group waits in is ornately decorated. It serves many purposes for the Lord Mayor. Occasionally it is cleared out and serves as a dance hall for the nobles of Restov, other times it is used as a receiving hall for visiting dignitaries, and at others it is used as it is today for meeting with large groups. The strangers sit in exquisitely crafted chairs with plus cushions sewn into the seats and high backs of the chairs. Etched into the top of each chair is the crest of the Free City of Restov. They sit around a very large and ornately carved table. Etched into the sides of the table are various scenes from the history of the Free City of Restov. Campaigns of war, famous duels, various past leaders among the Swordlords, and other events play out like a veritable history text in the side of the table. Decorative weapons bracket shields on the wall all around the room. The crest of each of the current Swordlord Council members are on display. A large fireplace in the northeast corner of the room keeps the room warm and cozy. Paintings, statues, and other works of art complete the décor.
Finally the door in the northern wall, opposite the one the strangers entered through, opens and two men enter. The first man is easily identified as Lord Mayor Ioseph Sellenius. Standing over six feet tall, Sellenius is still lean and fit even in his early 50’s. An accomplished swordsman on his own he moves with fluidity and grace to stand at the head of the table. The Lord Mayor has dark black hair and a pointed beard. There are streaks of grey in both beard and in his hair. High cheekbones and a strong nose are set under calculating eyes that can warm in an instant.
The man that enters with the Lord Mayor is none other than Ser Richard Iannuchi, the current Lord Commander of the Swordlord Council. Although he enters after the Lord Mayor, it is clear that Ser Richard takes second to no man. In his mid-50’s with a regal bearing and strong build, it is said that he is the second best swordsman among the Swordlords. His skill with a blade can only be matched by his abilities in leadership, politics, and tactical planning. He stands at the side of Sellenius and looks over the assembled guests. His face shows no emotion but it is clear that his eyes weigh each and every participant where they sit.
“My apologies for the wait,” begins Ioseph Sellenius, though there appears no such remorse in his voice. “We had to see of a trade delegation from Galt. They never know how long they’ll be in their position so they try and milk it for all they can.”
Ser Richard clears his throat at the Lord Mayor’s left but says nothing else. [b]“Yes, enough of that,” continues the Lord Mayor. “As you are all aware the King-Regent of Brevoy, Noleski Surtova recently signed a charter to explore the Stolen Lands. You six have been selected to be one of the groups that will head south into these lands to complete the King-Regent’s charter. You will also have the generous backing of the Swordlords of Restov. You are one of four teams that have been tasked with exploring a certain portion of the Stolen Lands. You will be heading to the Greenbelt. In addition to exploring, you are authorized and asked to get rid of any bandits that you encounter. We have had several disruptions of trade through the Greenbelt and bandits are rumored to be the cause.”
As he speaks, Ioseph Sellenius unrolls a parchment that contains the signed charter from King-Regent Surtova. A man enters from the door where adventurers entered and sets a quill and ink on the table. “Each of you that place your mark on this charter accept the terms and will be agents of the Crown. But before you do, you must know that the task before you is one of grave danger. The Stolen Lands are uncharted and uncivilized for a reason. In addition to bandits there are deadly beasts too numerous to name that must be overcome.”
The Lord Mayor of Restov pauses and looks at all assembled. “Do you have any questions?”
Celyne looks to the others one at a time, trying to gauge each one in turn. She is well aware of the dangers in the wilderness, and is a little apprehensive being here without her companion.
"What can you tell us about where we are going? I know you say the lands are uncharted, but certainly there must be outposts and roads if there are bandits and disruptions of trade."
"No my Lord. I am very grateful to receive such an honor." says a young woman with dark skin and long black hair. She sits with a serious posture, and listens intently on every word.
These are nobles, miss! Please use your manners as much as possible. She thinks when speaks.
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At the far end of the table is seated a middle-aged gnome. At first his posture seems strange, until observers notice that he has stacked a pile of cushions on the chair in order to be able to see over the table. He has black hair with a streak of gold above his left eye, along with a bushy beard and moustache. His clothing is in shades of green and violet, but while it was clearly once fine it has become drab and careworn. While his hands appear clean, small soot smudges appear on the tablecloth where his hands touch it. Perhaps the strangest thing about him is his skin, which has a strange yellowish cast to it.
He pulls out a monocle and polishes it with a rag before putting it over his eye, blinking for a moment.
"A Royal Charter! Well Milords, that is worth waiting for. Hmmm..." Numalar pauses, putting a finger on his chin. "The Stolen Lands eh? My Lords, forgive me, but I am no cartographer. Those are the wild lands to the south of the country, yes? Indeed, I have heard of many tales of fell creatures lurking there, such as the dreaded Face Eaters. Strange tarry beasts with gaping maws that feed on the faces of men, and when they have eaten their fill they can take the shape of those they have eaten. Or, erm... " Numalar sees the others giving him odd looks. "Perhaps I am thinking of someplace else."
Numalar clears his throat unfcomfortably. "In any event, My Lords... pray tell, just what are these terms we are agreeing to?"
Celyne, flicks her long white locks behind her, and listens to Numalar pratter on, lofts a brow curiously at the mention of face eaters and shape shifters. She sighs... and waits for the lord mayor or sir Iannuchi to respond to those who have spoken, including her own question. her eyes, two distinctly different colors, remain resolutely on the lords while waiting for answers.
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A confident looking human leans back in his chair, "Bandits, sir? Are they organized or affiliated with any known alliegence or common ruffians?" He leans forward in his chair and places his elbows on the table, connecting his palms together in front of his face with his eyes widening. His full attention focused on the 2 nobels.
"Finally! An opportunity for the beginnings of a Great Thieves Guild! When the right foundation is laid, our influence will reach all four corners of he map and we will reign in a new era of prosperity!" A devious chuckle follows his inner dialogue.
Fronar stands and walks up to Ioseph Sellenius. He peers in his eyes and hold back a smirk. "Where do I sign? How are we to be... compensated... for our duty to King and country?"
Celyne stifles the urge to chuckle at Fronar's devious chuckle that seems to come for no reason... but when he walks up to the swordlord and confronts him, her eyes open wide in surprise, and she looks on in semi-shock at his boldness. She leans over to whoever is sitting closest to her and whispers, "Oh my, he's a cheeky one!" She turns and gives her neighbor a little smile and nods... still whispering. "I'm Celyne by the way...nice to meet you."
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Numalar smiles at the reference to "common ruffians."
And what does that make you then? An Uncommon Ruffian?
Numalar looks around the table at the odd assortment of people gathered here... himself included. Well, it looks like you'll fit right in.
Nevertheless Numalar's ears seem to perk up at Fronar's question about "compensation."
Yes, let's hear a bit more about this "generous backing of the Swordlords of Restov" you mentioned.
"My lord, please, forgive this man. He is simply not used to courtesy in the presence of gentlemen."
The woman with black hair stands up, showing a long flowing yellow dress (which she had borrowed solely for this occasion). She then attempts to sit back into his chair. Whispering "We'll get to signing in a moment."
Interesting that their nature is not to ask why.
Valeska had the air of a student about her, albiet a deadly one.
Her eyes moved from one speaker to the other. Valeska's attire was fashioned after that of the Aldori Swordlords, if there truly was such a thing. Stylish and functional. Her hair, back and in a tight bun.
Observe... Understand...
Zokon is visibly examining each person in the room even the Mayor and Ser Richard
Use Studied target on each person.
"This will do M'Lord, when do we leave i'll need to inform some people"
Hmmm... not trained killers.. but not unskilled either.. bah i'm wet behind the ears myself..
Celyne looks to the others one at a time, trying to gauge each one in turn. She is well aware of the dangers in the wilderness, and is a little apprehensive being here without her companion.
"What can you tell us about where we are going? I know you say the lands are uncharted, but certainly there must be outposts and roads if there are bandits and disruptions of trade."
”Yes there are roads, outposts, and others in the Greenbelt,” answers the Lord Mayor. “There are some that are trying to eek out a life there, farming, hunting, or trapping. There aren’t any roads south of the Rostland Road but there are rivers that run through the lands in which many goods are sent south.”
"A Royal Charter! Well Milords, that is worth waiting for. Hmmm..." Numalar pauses, putting a finger on his chin. "The Stolen Lands eh? My Lords, forgive me, but I am no cartographer. Those are the wild lands to the south of the country, yes? Indeed, I have heard of many tales of fell creatures lurking there, such as the dreaded Face Eaters. Strange tarry beasts with gaping maws that feed on the faces of men, and when they have eaten their fill they can take the shape of those they have eaten. Or, erm... " Numalar sees the others giving him odd looks. "Perhaps I am thinking of someplace else."
Numalar clears his throat unfcomfortably. "In any event, My Lords... pray tell, just what are these terms we are agreeing to?"
The Lord Mayor smiles and nods as Numalar speaks. “Yes, the very same Stolen Lands. And there are creatures worse than the Face Eaters. Trolls, Wyverns, and others that do not have names.”
“Terms? They are simple. You keep what you find. Whatever spoils may be there are yours. In addition there will be gold when you complete the charter.”
As Fronar confidently steps forward and stands before Sellenius, a smirk of his own briefly crosses the lips of the Lord Mayor. “You sign at the bottom of the charter and we will be in contact with you from time to time, agents of ours.”
All the while, as the Lord Mayor addresses the questions of the group, Ser Richard remains quiet.
“You leave tomorrow,” answers Sellenius. “You are to go to an old fort south of the Rostland Road, west of Restov. There is a man and his wife there, Oleg Leveton. He is trying to turn the fort into a trading post. He’s been there several months but has had trouble with bandits. We can’t currently send help to him so we want you to meet with him first and try to help if you can. Within a week we will send some men to back you up there.”
Whatever the Lord Mayor or the Lord Comamnder of the Swordlords think about the group, they keep their thoughts to themselves. Whatever their true thoughts, they at least believe enough in the group to hire them for this mission.
”If there are no further questions,” continues Sellenius as he motions to the parchment and the quill.
Celyne nods and shrugs... and oves to the parchment, taking the quill and signing it as Celyne Nightstorme, and after her signature a small pen and ink drawn pawprint to indicate her tiger is in for the long haul as well.
"There... one down." she says, smiling at the lord mayor.
Bella stands in line after Celyne. Well, this is it. Soon I will be an adventurer. Sarenrae, please guide me.
She takes hold of the quill and signs simply as 'Bella' and includes a quick drawing of a flame next to it. She was never given a last name.
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Fronar watches Bella walk over and sign immidiatly after nudging him back into his seat. He waits for her to finish, then clears his throat to gain her attention, "Ahhhemmm." Fronar waits for attention, then shows both hands palms down. He twists his palms to face up and motions towards the contract, implying he is asking for her permission to get up and go sign.
"Now?"
"Yes. Now that the questions are over we can begin signing. Then the Lord Mayor will likely give us a quick debriefing, we will say our thanks, and then we'll be dismissed and begin preparation for tomorrow morning. It's all about the formalities and a step by step process."
She then steps aside, to convey that she will not interfere.
Zokon walks over takes up the writing implement and signs with a flourish.
"Hmm I'm truly in now."
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Fronar stands again and walks over to the contract. He scribes his signiture under Bella's and replaces the quill. "Are we to meet here tomorrow morning?" Fronar turns to address the rest of the group. "I don't know about the rest of you, but it sounds like we may not see a proper tavern for a while, feel free to join me tonight as I toast our coming adventure."
Carrying herself with professionalism and grace, Valeska approaches the document and signs.
Her most distinctive accessory, an Aldori Dueling Sword high on her hip.
With a curt but respectful bow, she turns on heel and returns to her seat.
"Excellent idea Fronar lets toast and share ideas so we can buy any last minute gear afterwards"
Zokon will meet Fronar at the tavern he proposes later.
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Numalar looks at the parade of people lining up to sign the charter, and sighs.
Really? That was enough for you? "There will be gold when you complete the charter" is awfully vague. How MUCH gold? Ten pieces? A hundred? It seems we are taking on an obligation without receiving one in return. Don't they know that dealing with Brevic nobility is like digging for a rope in a bag of snakes?
Numalar gets down from his chair and walks stiffly towards the end of the table, head held high.
Well, with five names on there I hardly have the power to bargain. Perhaps it's destiny...
He pulls up a footstool and climbs up so he can reach the tabletop. With a florid large hand, at the bottom of the page he signs:
"Well, that, Milords, would seem to be that. Please have a copy of the charter sent to me. My baggage is currently with Caraduck Thorpe the Halfling, who lives by the west gate. Please send it there."
He gets down from the footstool and marches back towards his seat, and collects his battered silk hat from the table. As he puts it on, he says,
"And yes, a tavern sounds splendid right about now. We will toast our new venture and comradeship. Perhaps Cayden Cailean will bless our expedition, if no one else will. I expect I will have little use for my gold after tonight!"
"I'm not much for strong drink... it goes right to my head, but I'll join you for a drink regardless... we should toast our new venture."
"Most certainly! It would be rather advantageous if we met properly. Also to become aware of one another's skills before we proceed into dangerous territory. I would be glad to accompany you all to the tavern once we are dismissed.
Bella then takes her seat again, folding her long dress and sitting attentively.
Zokon walks out with a quick backwards glance and a smirk towards the charter.
I wonder what will happen when the Ser out there realises the name on the charter is a noble one? Father was due some news anyway.
As Numalar speaks, requesting a copy of the charter, he looks down to see the writing on the signed charter begin to glow. He can feel the magic in the air as the letters begin to burn bright for a moment. It then fades as quickly as it began. With a smile, the Lord Mayor moves over to take up the charter. What was one sheet before has not become seven. He takes the top copy and hands it to Numalar. He then lays the others on the table for any that want a copy.
When Fronar asks his question, a smirk appears on his face and a slight chuckle escapes him. Looking at Ser Richard they both share a smile and then quietly turn and exit the room. A few minutes later a servant enters to escort them out of the mansion of the Lord Mayor of Restov.
The group spends the evening getting to know one another and contemplating their mission. For some it is an early night as the group must head out early in the morning, for others it matters little and they do what they always do regardless of what tomorrow has in store.
30th day of Pharast, 4708 AR – South of the Rostland Road
Mid-morning on the sixth day after signing the charter, the six companions come upon what can only be Oleg’s Trading Post. A few miles just south of the South Rostland Road the old fort sits with a small lake to the south of it. The fort itself is a wooden palisade that stands 10 feet high. The walls look to be in good shape as there are several areas where they have been repaired. Standing at the four corners of the old fort are 20-foot tall, square watchtowers. There appear to be catapults at the top of each of the watchtowers but even from below observers can tell they are disabled. The only entrance that you can see is the 30-foot wide northern gate. It currently stands open. The sound of someone hammering from within the fort can be heard. After a moment there is the odd sound of a mis-hit and then the unmistakable curse of the man who missed the nail.
A warm sun shines in the early morning sky but there is still a chill from the north when the wind blows. It is early summer but winter is fighting to stick around.
Celyne takes a copy of the charter, as the paper and its contract are very important to her. Once outside the Lord Mayor's mansion, she calls Luna to her and takes her to the tavern to meet the others. She stays as late as most of the others in the group, but eventually does retire to rest with Luna at her side.
Once on the road, she actually seems a bit anxious, and very cautious about wild animals, which she seems to fear somewhat. If asked, she will explain she was attacked by a giant boar not long ago and having Luna come to protect her was the only thing that saved her life that night.
The only time she seems totally relaxed in the wilderness is underneath the moonlit sky, if there is one...
Bella also takes a copy of the charter, as anything with proof of her deeds could be invaluable.
Bella is slightly cautious around Luna, but is more focused on learning more about the company she now finds herself in. She enjoys chatting with each member of the group, explaining that she is a priestess of Sarenrae and that her dream is to bring Sarenrae's blessings to the Stolen Lands. She does not stay late though, as she says she must be prepared by sunrise.
On the road, Bella is confident and excited. A cheerfulness radiates from her, and she is more than happy to help the other members on the journey (with exception to any of the troublemaker's potential schemes I'm watching you).
Arriving at Oleg's on the 30th, Bella's excitement has grown slightly more serious. She remembers that the job is to help him deal with bandits. Worried, she asks the group about two troubling questions that have been on her mind.
"I'd just like to ask you all two questions. What would you like to do when it comes down to dividing treasure, especially if it is not easily divisible such as armor? And how would you care to treat those who wish to surrender to us or have been disarmed or near-mortally wounded?"
"What we find should be given to whoever can use it best, unless it starts being one-sided... I'm sure eventually it will even out and all will receive their just rewards... Either that or we do it by gold value and what you get out you have to 'buy' as your share, and we keep good track. To be honest, I'd rather go for the former system, as once we start making it by value, then it will have to be tracked accurately and someone will need to be treasurer... and I'm not that good with numbers."
She smiles warmly at the Sarenrae worshipper. "I know you serve a goddess who favors redemption and second chances... I believe that we should try to gain followers among those we defeat. Anyone who surrenders and agrees to change their ways and follow us should be allowed to do so, until and unless they prove themselves unfaithful and false. The disarmed and wounded, well, that depends on whether or not they will swear fealty to us and our causes."
"I would prefer to keep track like a treasurer, but that would leave us with a problem. Apart from the trading post we are about to arrive at, I have no knowledge of any other place that one could buy what they want. So what I would like to do is either to buy another's share of that armor, or to offer a favor if they do not possess the coin."
The smiles back at Celyne. "Thank you very much for understanding. I too hope that we may make friends and allies out of our enemies. We must all work together as one if we wish to achieve our goals."
Zokon takes a copy of the charter, this could be valuable from a legal standpoint later.
Zokon accompanies his new companions to the tavern and allows himself to relax a little I have chosen this path, I must trust those around me, to do otherwise is no way to live he whiles away the time drinking and telling stories of home and enjoying the others tales.
"In the matter of dividing up loot I think we should give gear to those that will become better or have a use for it. Prisoners well the unrepentant should be dealt with, but others we should make an effort to show a better way."
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Numalar looks as the charter "multiplies," and smiles. "Ah, of course. No sense paying the wages of scribes when you have these around, eh?"
Numalar looks over the charter, then he folds it up carefully and puts it in his coat pocket.
The next morning Numalar awaits the others at the west gate. He is dressed in warm clothes and sitting astride a mule, holding a longspear, from which hangs a tattered green and violet pennon rippling in the breeze. He sits erect, with spear held like a lance, as if he is some absurd miniature version of a knight. Passersby smile and giggle behind their hands, but Numalar just smiles. When the rest of the party arrives, and looks him over, he says, "I know, of course I know. But one must make the best with what one has, yes? I may have fallen on hard times, but I will never abandon who I am."
As the group sets out, Numalar cannot help but notice that most of the party are travelling on foot. "Don't worry; Gertrude here prefers to take an easy pace. In fact, she can probably carry some additional things if that will help our overall pace."
On the way there Numalar happily regales the party with fantastical stories of the lost land of Valdralee, a land that fell "ere Azlant was a glimmer in the gods' thoughts." The stories are entertaining but do not seem to be particularly consistent. When Numalar is on his own, he is often seen carefully poring over the charter they have been given.
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When the subject of loot is broached, Numalar opines: "We should do what we can to ensure that booty is shared out fairly. But if there is something of particular use to someone, they should take it; if this gives them more than what would be their share, they can always take less loot the next time. As for me, I don't expect to find much amongst these bandits that will be of use to me, and the wolves and bears and other beasts are likely to have nothing at all - that is, unless someone here knows how to cure hides and furs? In any event, I don't mind forfeiting treasure if it is useful to others... to a point. But I am not counting on any particular rewards from the Lord-Mayor so I do expect to get a fair share in the long run."
"As to the treatment of prisoners, well... I am inclined to show mercy to those who throw themselves upon ours. But that is much different than trust. Remember that wicked folk know that good folk will show mercy, and consider it a valid 'trick' to take advantage of them. True repentance is rare, and difficult to identify."
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As them walk along, Fronar occasionally disappears into the wilderness on either side and emerges several hundred feet ahead where he waits for the group to catch up. He travels along side for a while then repeats his apparent scouting ritual.
While travelling with the group he randomly catches Bella looking in his directon. He always returns the look with a smile, acknowledging his notice of her suspicious nature. Whether the smile is genuine courtesy or masking a false premise... only time and actions will reveal.
"I have a knack for bookkeeping myself, and would be happy to keep an inventory of our spoils. In my experience, gnomes tend to have a natural talent for meticulousness often bordering on the obsessive. I would be comfortable with our friend Numalar tracking our gains.
I agree it's in the party's best interest to distribute goods where they will be best used. Although, a suitable compensation to the rest of the party should be expected at the recipients discretion.
On the subject of mercy, situation will dictate, but we are chartered to build and expand our Mayors influence in the new lands. The more people spreading our word, the more successful we will be. A dead person typically cannot harbor favor or usefulness, and thus should be avoided whenever possible."
"This seems to be a good place to rest, perhaps enjoy a meal, to fuel our continued journey. Not to mention, it sounds like whoever is inside might need some assistance. We are, after all, charged with gaining favor and support to our cause. This may be our 1st opportunity to demonstrate our intent." Fronar glances at Bella, "Wouldn't you agree?"
Zokon follows Fronar on one of his forays to see what
he is doing. He checks to see what sort of a trail he leaves.
He's just moving silently, he's not examining the terrain or checking other tracks or anything. I best handle wilderness scouting
As they travel Zokon tries to make small talk and he listens alot to the others talking, trying to figure the group dynamic.
Zokon with the others walks through the gates "Hello is this Olegs trading post? "
Valeska looks around.
Celyne keeps Luna close by her side to avoid scaring the residents here... and she approaches the gates... "Hello... that sounds like a little accident.. I am a healer... can I offer some aid perhaps?"
Intrigued by the magic that duplicates the charter, Numalar’s mind shuffles through all that might be involved in creating something like that. He figures that the parchment itself wasn’t magical. He probably would have picked up on that. Instead he figures it was a spell placed on the ink. Or perhaps the ink and the parchment. Either way, Numalar can’t quite figure it out. If he had more time, perhaps, but not at this point.
As the group moves through the open gate and into the open courtyard of Oleg’s Trading Post, they find a large but empty inner yard. About twenty feet inside the post to the left is an empty wagon. Behind it is a large building that appears to be a stable. Directly across the yard, beyond the wagon, about forty feet is another building about twenty feet across. To the right of the group are two buildings, one smaller one and a larger building north of the group that has double doors in its center. In between the two buildings there is a fire pit separating two wooden tables with benches.
As first Zokon and then Celyne call out, a large man stands up on top of the large building to the group’s right. He has a hammer in hand and a gruff look upon his face. “It’s a smashed thumb girl. No need of a healer. Who are you, folk?”
One of the doors down below the man opens and a young woman comes out. She appears to be in her mid-twenties with long blond hair. “Oleg Leveton, where are your manners? Come on down from there and greet our guests.”
She smiles at the group as she approaches. “Welcome to Oleg’s Trading Post. Are you traders or just passing by? Please don’t mind my husband, he’s just mad because he smashed his thumb again. I’m Svetlana Leveton.”
The man Oleg moves over to a ladder leaning against the building and nimbly climbs down the ladder. He still wears a scowl as he moves over to join his wife. He is a tall, stout man with brown hair, beard, and eyes. He appears to be about ten years older than his wife. He appears more comfortable displaying a scowl than swinging a hammer.
“If you come in peace you are welcome here. We have some supplies and welcome any trade you might have. Just let me know what you need and perhaps we can help.”
We do indeed come in peace... Some trade might be a good thing if anyone needs anything, but we come chartered by the Lord Mayor to bring some peace to the area. It looks like you could use help yourselves... What can WE do for YOU?"
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"Greetings Oleg." Fronar turns to Svetlana and grabs the corner of his cloak's hood, as if tipping a hat, "Ma'am." He drops the hood behind his head, "We indeed come in peace, and merely travelers. Is it just the 2 of you here? We come from Brevoy to check on your progress, among other things. It appears you are slowing converting this old fort. Do you see many travelers or traders?"
We do indeed come in peace... Some trade might be a good thing if anyone needs anything, but we come chartered by the Lord Mayor to bring some peace to the area. It looks like you could use help yourselves... What can WE do for YOU?"
"Chartered?!" replies Oleg, the scowl on his brow growing impossibly deep. "What in the Nine Hells is that going to do you? This is the Stolen Lands, girl, that charter ain't worth the parchment it was written on. Oleg turns to the side and spits, "Lord Mayor. Lotta good he is. We've been asking for a patrol to come out here for over a month and nothing." He turns and spits again. "You have what you hold as they say in the River Kingdoms so I guess I shouldn't complain."
"Now Oleg, don't be so rough with the girl," cuts in Svetlana. She blushes at the tip of the hat from Fronar. "We see enough travelers through here. Mostly trappers and such but occasionally folk traveling the South Rostland will stop off from time to time. Things have been tough with the bandits and all."
Svetlana casts a quick sideways glance to Oleg and then she looks over the group once more. "Oleg, perhaps they could help us," she says before her husband cuts her off.
"You have what you hold," he repeats. "This ain't no concern of there's. No use dragging them into it."
Celyne sighs at the reprimand from Oleg... "May not be worth much to you, but it means something to me. It means we are tasked to bring some sort of order around here... Not that I'm big on law and order so to speak, but I take my own vows quite seriously. Like it or not, we are here, and can help you... Now do tell us about these bandits please..."
"Before we left the mayor said he'd send some men within the week. But for now.. this is the frontier and your trading post is the only one like it at the moment, having you operating at capacity helps us. So advise us what we can do to help you out and maybe make these lands a bit civilised."
Celyne sighs at the reprimand from Oleg... "May not be worth much to you, but it means something to me. It means we are tasked to bring some sort of order around here... Not that I'm big on law and order so to speak, but I take my own vows quite seriously. Like it or not, we are here, and can help you... Now do tell us about these bandits please..."
”Bring some order?! To the Stolen Lands?” Oleg laughs. The first time the frown leaves his face. ”You aim to do what Taldor couldn’t do at its height? The six of you? What makes you think these lands want to be ‘civilized’?”
Fronar raises an eyebrow of his own, he acts surprised to hear the mention of bandits, "Bandits, you say? What do you mean bandits? What can you tell us about these low-lifes?"
”They intimidate, threaten, and steal from honest people,” replies Oleg. ”What more do you need to know?”
Svetlana reaches out and squeezes her husband’s hand. ”Oleg,” she whispers. The deep scowl returns to her husband but he remains quiet for the moment. His jaw grows tight as he struggles to keep calm.
”We’ve had trouble with bandits for the last several months. They come each month with the new moon, demanding ‘tribute’ they call it.”
As Svetlana talks, everyone knows that tomorrow morning will bring the new moon.
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Numalar slowly walks Gertrude towards the Levetons, and reins in.
"Master and Missus Leveton, be assured that we understand that out here in the wild this piece of parchment has no real value. No bandit will be frightened by a man wielding a piece of paper. In fact, this type of parchment doesn't even make good kindling. The only thing that anyone might want it for is that Gertrude here might find it a tasty snack."
"HONK!"
"*snort*"