The storm quickly dies down and by the time the party exits the stand of trees the sun is breaking through a florid red sky in the distance you can see the smoke rising from Svetlana's hearth.
The storm quickly dies down and by the time the party exits the stand of trees the sun is breaking through a florid red sky in the distance you can see the smoke rising from Svetlana's hearth.
Celyne lofts a brow, but says nothing about her suspicions if she has any. "You seem quite well traveled, sometime you will have to tell us about your wanderings. Maybe over a bowl of Svetlana's stew?" She nods toward the trading post and the smoke rising there.
[dice=sense motive]1d20+9
Celyne lofts a brow, but says nothing about her suspicions if she has any. "You seem quite well traveled, sometime you will have to tell us about your wanderings. Maybe over a bowl of Svetlana's stew?" She nods toward the trading post and the smoke rising there.
"That sounds like a wonderful idea." he gives a nice bright smile "I'd like to learn more about you and your companion there too."
** spoiler omitted **
[dice=Sense Motive]1d20 + 2
Numalar waits patiently for a while, and when it starts to get uncomfortable he looks around at the rest of the party and shrugs.
Numalar mumbles a bit, and fiddles with his hand, and looks around again.
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After casting his spell, Numalar dismounts and walks towards the figure, and peers up at it. Not sensing anything, he shrugs, and looks back at the group. Then he slowly turns around, scanning the trees.
Numalar walks back to the horses, and remounts. "No sign of anything magical. I'd be curious how they did it, but whoever is responsible is either in hiding or gone. I suppose we might as well press on."
After casting his spell, Numalar dismounts and walks towards the figure, and peers up at it. Not sensing anything, he shrugs, and looks back at the group. Then he slowly turns around, scanning the trees.
After a short slog you reach Oleg's gate, still soaked, near sundown. The air around you is filled with the scent of roast pig. And there it is a whole pig on a spit cooking in the fire pit. Several men dressed for war mill about the tables outside carrying baskets of bread and spring berries along with platters of potatoes and other vegetables preparing for a feast.
Oleg is there, his back to you, nailing charcoal and ink wanted posters to the side of the barn.
One of the armed strangers, holding what looks like a wildflower centerpiece puts it down and shouts toward you: "Oy! 'Ou are you lot then?"
"We are friends and known to Oleg and Svetlana" says Zokon in a raised voice so the man with the flowers can hear.
"Well, some of us are, at any rate."
Cyrielle drops from her horse, walking over to the man with the flowers, her hand stuck out. "Cyrielle Rousseau. I've got a charter signed by Noleski Surtova, and I assume these others do as well. Pleasure to make your acquaintance...?" She pauses for a moment to let the man fill in his name.
Once he's responded, she continues. "Have to say, sir, that pig smells heavenly. Any chance you could be convinced to share some?"
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"Hello there!" Numalar calls out cheerily from behind Zokon. He dismounts, and gives himself a shake; the travel stains and dampness runs from his body and clothes, and he looks clean and refreshed.
"Good Oleg and Svetlana are familiar with some of us; we have spent the last couple of nights here. The others we encountered on the way here; coincidentally they hold the same charter that we do, to explore the Stolen Lands and to strive against banditry."
Numalar walks up to the men (getting as close as is polite or until it looks like they will object) and bows deeply.
"I, good sirs, am Numalar Auritonius. These are my companions... I shall allow them to introduce themselves. And we are all very glad to arrive in time for dinner! If we can join you I will be happy to provide the ale."
Numalar looks around, and says, "Now, if you will excuse me for a moment..." Numalar turns and heads to the stable where Gertrude is quartered. Once out of sight, he goes through his belongings and pulls out his charter, and examines it.
He puts the charter away and pulls out two jugs, and returns to the group. He lifts up one of the jugs.
"Here were are, lads; this one is a decent Restov ale, and this," Numlalar says, hoisting the other jug, "is a rather potent Dwarven whisky. Puts hairs on your chest, even if you're female."
Zokon hearing of the Dwarven whiskey drops his pack grabs his cup and hightails to it Numalar with an eager/desperate look on his face.
"Please!" holding his cup forward.
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"Greetings Oleg! It appears you have hired some help. Are these associates going to be permanent or temporary?" Fronar looks around, checking to see if there are any other changes to the for/trading post. "Anything else new, besides your new employees, since we departed? No sign of... shall we say... trouble?"
"We are friends and known to Oleg and Svetlana" says Zokon in a raised voice so the man with the flowers can hear.
”We’ll see about that.” Says a soldier turning the spit.
"Well, some of us are, at any rate."
Cyrielle drops from her horse, walking over to the man with the flowers, her hand stuck out. "Cyrielle Rousseau. I've got a charter signed by Noleski Surtova, and I assume these others do as well. Pleasure to make your acquaintance...?" She pauses for a moment to let the man fill in his name.
”Was we in a fist fight together once?” Says a seated man chewing a sausage. He pulls it from his mouth and wags it at you. ”Yeah come to think of it, you broke me nose at the ol’ ‘Ookscratch. Ahh, Dragoonscale rules.”
"Ay! Grog!"
”Hey boss! The ‘Charterers’ are back!” Shouts the man with the bouquet up to another stranger on fort’s wall.
The man, who is dressed like the others though perhaps not so shabbily, slides nimbly down the ladder. ”Ah well met!”
He shakes hands gladly with anyone that will meet his firm grip.
”I’m Kesten Garess, and these-” He waves a bit sheepishly to them. “Are my men.”
When they do not immediately respond he glares at them and they all snap to attention.
”Sah!!!”
”Guardsman Paun.”
”Guardsman Pease.”
”Tokin.” Garess gives him another look and he straightens up taller and shouts: ”I mean- Guardsman Tokin! Sah!”
Just then Svetlana appears from her front door.
”Manners men you’re not bandits!”
In quick succession she swats the half-sausage from Pease grasp then takes the centerpiece from Paun (who looked rather at a loss as to where to place it while he was at attention) and put it on the table adjusting individual flowers in the arrangement until she was happy. Satisfied he comes to greet you all when she notices the smell burning pig and elbows Tokin back to rotating the spit.
”You don’t look Kellid, you must be Valeska.” Kesten says addressing Cyrielle. "An honor, my lady."
“Who are your friends? Are Bella and Valeska coming? I think I've made enough for all. The guards caught this pig on their way to the fort. They arrived just after you left.” Then she adds sadly. "Too bad it wasn't that old Tuskgutter."
"Greetings Oleg! It appears you have hired some help. Are these associates going to be permanent or temporary?"
”Vey ain’ mun.” He says through gritted teeth loaded with nails for the posters he’s putting up . He spits them into his palm.
”They’re like you lot, agents of the state. They’re the soldiers I requested months ago.” His eyes seem to shoot nails at the guardsmen. “Well at least they’ll give you more leeway to do your explorin’. Should we be set upon by brigands, I can always use them to stop arrows. They seem thick enough. So any word on the bandits, or that, err, errand I sent you on? And how's crazy old Bokken or did he chase you off?”Fronar looks around, checking to see if there are any other changes to the for/trading post. "Anything else new, besides your new employees, since we departed? No sign of... shall we say... trouble?"
"Trouble? Hrumph. Just that lot. I'm puttin' these up, figure it's safe now." He says indicating the wanted posters. "If you got any questions about 'em come see me, though I think they're all pretty self-explanatory."
"I have heard a few whispers about this Stag lord. Have any of you seen this man-beast yet? From what I hear he is somekind of unnatural creature." he states with a smile as he looks over the group, taking part in having a large pile of food piled on his plate.
"I have heard a few whispers about this Stag lord. Have any of you seen this man-beast yet? From what I hear he is somekind of unnatural creature." he states with a smile as he looks over the group, taking part in having a large pile of food piled on his plate.
"Bella is it?"
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"Kesten Garess? Well met indeed! I spent many years among the folk of house Garess, and have many fond memories of the place. Perhaps you might remember my father, Midasar Auritonius? He used to tell stories to amuse the Ducal court, before he died in service to Duke Garess after the vanishing."
"You asked after Bella and Valeska. Well, I'm afraid we parted ways after meeting Bokken. A courier found us with news of Valeska's father and the two of them returned to Brevoy. These two are Cyrielle and Poshment; we encountered them out on the plains; they arrived just in time to assist us in dealing with a gigantic spider that wanted to eat our horses. In fact, it managed to get two of them before we finished it off; as you can see we are riding double. Coincidentally they also bear the same charter that we do."
Numalar pulls up to the table where the soldiers are drinking his whisky and climbs up onto the bench.
"But enough of that! I have not been near Greyhaven in, ah... seven years at least. Tell me, what news is there of house Garess? How fares the Duke? And has any progress been made in finding the lost dwarven clans? Come share a drink with me and tell me the latest news!"
"Alas, I do not remember him. My branch has never been very close to the bough of the family and I've not been to the mountains since I was a boy no taller than you. I can say though that the name, 'Garess' is still in abundance. Most of my years have been spent in the south, twixt Restov and Silverhall, and abroad as well in among the River Kingdoms. This is most excellent wine though. What is it's vintage?"
[dice=Spellcraft]1d20+6
"... This is most excellent wine though. What is it's vintage?"
Zokon examines each soldier and Kesten for weapons and armour and maybe a measure of each man.
As a sort of cover for his examinations Zokon speaks"Good to see that the Levetons will have some protection, this will allow us more effectively eliminate the various barriers to civilisation and not have to worry about this place being waylaid."
”Was we in a fist fight together once?” Says a seated man chewing a sausage. He pulls it from his mouth and wags it at you. ”Yeah come to think of it, you broke me nose at the ol’ ‘Ookscratch. Ahh, Dragoonscale rules.”
Cyrielle squints at the man. As she recognizes him, she grins widely. Ah, the Hookscratch. That was a brawl."[/b] She sits near him, offering a hand. "Cyrielle. I'll drink with you any time. Fight with you too!"
As she listens to the gnome talk with the guard captain, Cyrielle kicks back, sharing drinks with the guardsmen.
Zokon examines each soldier and Kesten for weapons and armour and maybe a measure of each man.
Zokon is not very good at this sort of thing... yet
Zokon is not very good at this sort of thing... yet
[Dice=sense motive + studied target]1d20+2
As a sort of cover for his examinations Zokon speaks"Good to see that the Levetons will have some protection, this will allow us more effectively eliminate the various barriers to civilisation and not have to worry about this place being waylaid."
"We're not many, as you can see, but we'll keep watch on the trading post, while you scout the land."
"I've heard about the bandits in these parts, and the Levetons mentioned your brush with a gang of them here the other day. There's rumor of a self-styled bandit chieftain named the Stag Lord organizing the brigands throughout the Stolen Lands. His lieutenants wear a silver stag's head emblem as a token of their fealty. Tell me, what do you know of him?"
Cyrielle squints at the man. As she recognizes him, she grins widely. Ah, the Hookscratch. That was a brawl."[/b] She sits near him, offering a hand. "Cyrielle. I'll drink with you any time. Fight with you too!"
”Was we in a fist fight together once?” Says a seated man chewing a sausage. He pulls it from his mouth and wags it at you. ”Yeah come to think of it, you broke me nose at the ol’ ‘Ookscratch. Ahh, Dragoonscale rules.”
"Really? I'll give you she's a big girl, but I can't picture her fist landin' any 'eavier than a butterfly landin' on the tip of yer nose."
"I think it was chair."
"Haw!"
"Don't let the food get cold now! Oleg! You put down that hammer and come eat! I swear by Erastil's bow the place will be more nail than wood by the end of summer."
"It's good the post will be protected while our little group explores and seeks out this stag lord and his headquarters. Perhaps we can end the bandit threat while we are out and about... It is truly a pleasure to meet you all." Celyne goes among the men greeting and meeting each in turn, trying to learn all their names and make some friends among them by doing so... Celyne has Luna take a spot in a corner against a wall and lie down there, looking as unthreatening as she can.