Zokon moves between the camps slowly. There are not many tents. Most are no more than a fire pit and dry hidey-hole, tree bough, or crude lean-to to store supplies and bedrolls. He finds a dozen camps with populations from as small as two or three up to as many as twenty, he counts a total of a hundred-twenty men.
The men themselves seem to be on the whole a motley collection of bullies, petty thieves, would-be adventurers, downtrodden, poachers, refugees, deserters from other armies, and criminals on the run. Desperate men. Most seem disillusioned.
There's talk that the legendary Stag Lord has a terrible temper and is a drunkard and not even human. Some say he is Erastil's bastard son here to stick it to his old man. That he is inspired by the dream of founding a bandit kingdom, a River Kingdom, that he is in league with fairies, spirits, or demons; that he is mad or a genius. Regardless all the stories point to him being a big strong scarred man in a stylized stag's skull helmet, and that he nearly beat a man to death with his bare hands.
Most of the men outside the fort feel a combination of fear of the Stag Lord, and the desperate hope that his dream for a bandit kingdom will somehow help them. Most of the men would rather deal with the Stag Lord's number two, Akiros Ismort a big, grim-faced wandering swordsman who only recently arrived in the camp a few months ago and quickly became the Stag Lord's chief lieutenant supplanting the former number two, Dovan from Nisroch a devious sadist who was recently murdered out in one of the outer ring of camps. Unlike Dovan who led through fear, Akiros seems to have won the respect of most of the men.
There's talk that he's made a deal with one of the Swordlords of Mivon. That soon they will be on the march, that they will soon be sacking the Brevic outpost in the northeast, and the surrounding farms, that when they are in charge they will have homes and farms of their own.
Zokon does not return until well past midnight.
Desperation. The final card that causes grown men and women to commit unspeakable acts. The grease you need to say, "It's me or them." Scarlet gets the report back and ponders.
"Sounds like we did this world a service by offing Dovan. 120 men in all, and at least 3 of them are a serious threat. Even if we slit the throat of the Stag Lord, this Akiros guy would just take over, we need to topple him as well. We do that, and the men here scatter. That minor lord guy... bigger fish we can handle later."
"My Company will have 30 men ready. They can handle the small fry. We can take on the big guys. We need the Stag Lord's head so that ghost on the bridge stops giving me nightmares."
"Lets go get them and get this done, cutting off any plans Mivon has for the area would be a good idea." Zokon then collapses into his bedroll
"Sounds like our plan." Illthir agrees. Now she could almost taste the epic confrontation hanging in the air. Soon-ish! She wished she could play her flute a bit and sing to really get into the mood, but she really didn't feel like attracting bandit attention. Not until they had the mercenaries at least!
"Off to Mivon, then!"
Scarlet wonders about the land around Mivon.
What does she know about Mivon?
"Mmm. Maybe Mivon is a good scene for my latest song about the cowardly swordlord? Heh..."
Durgan has been doing the work of Abadar in Mivon wherever requested. He's reviewed two accounting ledgers, witnessed four contracts, and helped with bridge construction. He stopped by the Feasting House on his way to town and brewed a batch of ale with the Caydenites. He hopes to get back and sample it in a few weeks.
Meanwhile, since trading posts and bridges are essential elements of trade and civilization, and thus very important to Abadar, Durgan has been keeping an ear out for word of those who destroyed such things - the Stag Lord and his bandits.
He has not had much luck so far.
The road to Mivon is a tough and tangled one. There are several wide deep rivers that stand between you and the western tip of the Narlmarches, and then some eel-infested swamps once you get there.
The best path (from a common sense perspective, would be to move through lands you have already mapped. Head back the way you came and north toward Kressle's old bandit camp. Cross the ford there and head through the woods. If you are fast enough you should catch up with "Bloody" Angus though that might be a bit of a race if he left when he said he would.
The slightly riskier path would be cutting almost straight north from your current location and hoping to find a way across the Skunk River (a much smaller river than most of the others you would have to cross going west; named for the smell it gives off). If luck and skill are with you you might even come out ahead of Angus going this way.
Either way, because you do not have a boat or raft it would probably be safest and quickest to skirt the Hooktongue Slough, cross the plains and hook up with Angus rather than brave the swamp, or try to hike through the unknown parts of the Narlmarches.
Scarlet studies the landscape. "Let's catch up to Angus. Skirt the Hooktongue Slough and cross the plains. Hopefully he brought Erevenywg with him, I don't want to leave her at the Trading Post after what happened."
Zokon tells her about the history of Mivon and she frowns. "Why is the heir to the throne working with bandits? Can't he just duel his way like a good little spoiled brat?"
"Maybe because he doesn't want to risk losing an honourable duel or he wants to gain enough popularity and power to supplant his father."
The party rushes back to the ford and then back again to the old forest bandit camp, to hunt for food and supplies. From there Jhod departs and heads eastward toward the outpost, and since no one has mentioned the "cursed bear" or "the cave with the elk bust atop it" the good shepherd never learns of what might have been a major holy pilgrimage site for the Church of Erastil hidden deep in the forest. They march across the ford near the camp, and up into the steep wooded foothills of the Narlmarchs, and just past what would have been a major holy pilgrimage site , propelled by magic and need
"Nur! Ni tanca tye túl!"
"Whit th' Nine Hells kept ye?"
"I feel like we forgot something..." Scarlet walks by the cave, oblivious to the elk head or the strange bear spirit they fought. "Oh well!" She shrugs and tarries onward.
Several days later Scarlet calls out. "Oi! Angus! Erevenywg!" She pretty much slides down the hill to give both a hug or handshake.
"We tried chasing the attackers down. We got one of them, but two got away, including this nasty necromancer who can identify us now. Ugh. The problem with running off half-prepared, right? We also learned of the second in command- well respected. We'll have to take him down, too."
She turns back to Angus. "Hotspur Selline- have you heard of him? Two of his knights walked right up to the Stag Lord's bandit camp. They're clearly working together. Why is a bandit lord and the heir of Mivon working together? You see where I'm going with this?"
|
"Maybe because he doesn't want to risk losing an honourable duel or he wants to gain enough popularity and power to supplant his father."
"Or he comes on behalf of his father. It could be that Mivon sees an opportunity to stir up trouble for Brevoy by supporting the Stag Lord. The Mivonese are historically bandits, many of them anyway. Perhaps they hope to make the Stag Lord a puppet governor of some kind."
"For him to show his arms openly like that means he doesn't mind who knows he was there."
"Look, dwarf, the bandits are none of my problem," growls the fur trader, "And I don't want any trouble with them. So if you want to poke your nose into that, go to Fort Drelev. Or Camp Drelev. Whatever."
Durgan thanks the man for his time and gives him a silver for the advice. He purchases a draft horse and riding gear, leaves Mivon and makes his way to Fort Drelev. The journey takes several days.
Once there, Durgan begins making inquiries as to which bandits have been creating the most trouble, and what the plans are for dealing with them. Not able to afford to hire mercenaries himself at the moment, he looks to sign on with any bands that seem at least halfway honorable and intent on dealing with the bandits.
He also looks around the camp to see if he recognizes any veterans of the Mendevian Crusade.
Some of those were noble souls, like Edrin or Miles. Hoping to do some good. Others, like Kronug, just lived for the thrill of battle; but good friends anyway, if you pointed them in the right direction. I suppose either sort could find a place here in the Stolen Lands.
Serena has been spending her time largely inquiring about the goings on in the Stolen Lands, but just happens to be near when the dwarf speaks to the fur trader.
Bandits, eh? Sound like just the distraction I need.
"Friend dwarf! My name is Serena Mistcastle and I couldn't help but overhear that you are heading to Drelev. That just happens to be the way that I'm going as well. Would you mind company on your travels?"
Alia seems to have taken their failed hunt for the necromancer badly.
Most of the following days, she spent brooding and avoiding much contact with others, except her cat Vega, and spending her spare time working her craft.
Eventually, as time passes and the day of their vengeance against the Stag Lord and his underlings drew closer, Alia returned to her normal self by the time they met Makdoon on the road:"There is much hidden in Telvurin...things of the ancient past not readily visible. I think the same is true for the politics at work here - even if the Stag would manage to carve out a niche empire for himself, that could serve as invitation for one of the neighbours to try and take control of the region with a full-fledged military invasion under the pre-text of liberating the area from a criminal warlord. Unless, of course, the Stag Lord has the backing of one of those neighbours in an alliance, and that neighbour no doubt will stand to gain from the deal as well...I don't think Mivon will be particulary happy if we achieve our goals, but it will buy us time. You lot to finish your mapping, me to find the hidden hold I came here for, and Illthir to chronicle what has happened with her skill and art."
I so do hope they kept the map as plunder. If I return to brother empty-handed...
"Nice to see you too!" Illthir grins and nods at the two travellers. They were both, as far as she knew, really friendly so she wanted to return the favor even if she had no idea what the sounds pouring out of their mouths were supposed to be. She was more then happy to let Scarlet deal with the talky part here.
Speculate about the intentions of the nobles however ... "I'm not sure how much Mivon would gain from disrupting the trade? Maybe they want to out some pressure on the merchants - or hmm negotiate for exclusivity? And what's this about a forgotten keep I'm hearing?"
Zokon is observing and following along at this moment, hoping to look highly capable. He is looking around for a horse seller though so the group can be ably horsied
A follower of Sarenrae? Here? And a warrior by the looks of her. That is interesting.
"By all means, Lady Mistcastle. Let us travel together. You have the look - and the arms - of one who has seen battle. Where did you get your training, if I might ask?"
"Battle? Aye, and more than I'd like. I was born in Restov, to a mother who was... a delicate flower, if you take my meaning. When she passed, I was taken in by what I presume is the only church of Sarenrae in all of Brevoy. They saw to my training in both battle and the clerical path. I spent several years kicking about the country, righting wrongs where I found them, but then I heard the call for pioneers in the Stolen Lands. I have heard of the bandits that plague this region and feel that my talents could be useful against them."
"Look, dwarf, the bandits are none of my problem," growls the fur trader, "And I don't want any trouble with them. So if you want to poke your nose into that, go to Fort Drelev. Or Camp Drelev. Whatever."
"'Fort Drelev'.... I like the sound of that! Yes. It has a very strong ring to it--'Fort Drelev'. Fort Drelev it is!" Says a flamboyant-looking rake at the head of a party of passing mercenaries. He seems to be in charge. The man turns to his aid and says: "Terrion, write that down."
Terrion gives an "Aye, Baron." and notes the change on a small pad.
"Welcome to Fort Drelev! I must say that it is not often that we are graced here on the frontier with three such lovely elfin nymphs as you." The apparent Baron says with appreciative glances at Alia, Illthir, and Serena.
"I am your humble host, Hannis Drelev! Baron(!) of these savage lands and by writ of the Dragonscale throne empowered to make them safe for flowers like yourselves from fiends both mortal and monstrous!" He says with a flourish, and then swats a mosquito from his neck.
The women have attracted a lot of attention from the men of the camp fort upon their arrival.
Drelev draws close to Serena.
"Sarenrae is it? Now that must be a tale! Sultry desert lands, diaphanous attire, harems.... And my, but you must be as freckly as a star-field under there." The Baron considers (a lot). "Might I offer you the opportunity to sit at my table tonight. Afterwards we might play at connecting all the dots." He waggles his eyebrows.
"Nice to see you too!" Illthir grins and nods at the two travellers. They were both, as far as she knew, really friendly so she wanted to return the favor even if she had no idea what the sounds pouring out of their mouths were supposed to be. She was more then happy to let Scarlet deal with the talky part here.
Speculate about the intentions of the nobles however ... "I'm not sure how much Mivon would gain from disrupting the trade?"
"Those Brevoy Birds! Hah! I would just like to see them try that here! We're ready for any foe. Right Terrion?"
"Aye, Baron." says Terrion.
"We're not as foolish as those other chartered companies." adds the Baron.
He turns to Alia looking a bit puzzled. "Have we met before? There is something about you, about your exotic elfin beauty, that seems familiar somehow...."
Fort Drelev functions a way point between the River Kingdoms and Brevoy. Most of the trade between the two passes this way up the Sellen River (which cuts through the Hooktongue Slough) to the Lake of Mists and Veils. Common supplies are in abundance here.
Scarlet laughs. "Oh man, do I miss this." Scarlet makes sure she is between Alia and the closest lech to her. "Relax, Eros. She'll talk to you when she's ready. And if she's not ready, you talk to me, got it?"
Scarlet tries to put up an impressive display, but it instead seems less like she's bodyguarding the woman and more like Alia's with her.
"Oh, I didn't realize your were together."
Now these fellows do not look like your common mercenaries. More exotic and eclectic, better equipped, and less soldierly. They seem to be all together.
A gnome, an elf, a half-elf, a human, and, hmm, that redhead. Human? Ifrit?
The Baron seems to have taken an interest in the women, except for the red one, who he knows already. Don't want to interrupt, I'll chat with the men.
Durgan approaches Numalar and Zokon. He looks over at the Baron being lecherous towards the women. "I came here with the Sarenrite paladin. Her name is Serena. Pretty sure she can handle herself. I assume the same is true of your friends?"
He extends his hand. "Durgan Far-Walker. Servant of Abadar, and veteran of the Worldwound. I've been traveling in these lands for a few years now, and am hoping to see if any of these companies intend to deal with the bandit problem."
Serena smiles coyly at the Baron's attentions. I guess that it's been a long time since any of them have seen a woman. I'll need to be tactful to keep from insulting our hosts, but I'll not sacrifice my values. "Perhaps, mi'lord, but I will accept your invitation to your table."
"Yeah, I'm guardin' her." Scarlet snorts. "Besides, looks like you're already busy." She looks at the half-elf and shrugs.
"We should get some lodgings- a good night's rest will do wonders before we get to Mivon."
Zokon turns to the dwarf addressing them "Yes we have a mind to deal with the bottom feeders" Giving a look to the baron "We are currently gathering ourselves for an expedition against bandits. The worldwound ey.. are the stories coming out of there true?"
Durgan strokes his beard for a minute, then replies to Zokon. "Well, some of the stories are true and some aren't. But yes, I saw things that I wouldn't have believed possible. And I was braver than I ever thought myself capable of being. Perhaps someday you might hear the call, as I did, and see for yourself. It's not a place to spend too much of your life. There's a... a corrupting influence. Bloodlust. Gorumites don't mind, and paladins claim they are too pure of heart to be affected. I don't know.
But enough of that! I'm doing Abadar's work in these lands as well, and have been for about five years. Building bridges and roads, checking weights and measures, adjudicating disputes, balancing accounting ledgers, and so on.
Why, there was this one time, this fellow Oleg a few years back, trying to run a trading post, all of his numbers were either in his head or on scraps of paper haphazardly scattered about. So I spent a month collecting all the information, setting it down in a proper ledger, double-entry of course, verified with all his suppliers and customers. One of his suppliers, a tanner, thought he could pull one over on me, but... am I boring you? Sorry. I get excited about accounting.
I hear the bandits have been threatening some of those I have helped, like Oleg. And I heard they destroyed Nettles' bridge and killed the poor man. That doesn't sit right with Abadar. Or with me.
If you would deal with them, then I ask to join you. I am a trained warrior, an ordained cleric of Abadar, and a meticulous accountant."
Serena arches an eyebrow. "If anyone, paladin or otherwise, says they are unaffected by proximity to the Worldwound, my little friend, they are either lying or a fool!" Her expression softens. "I too would join you in your crusade against the bandits of this land," she says, turning to Zokon. "Sarenrae has led me here for a purpose that I do not yet realize, but Her will is clear."
Zokon stays silent for a few moments after their words.. " Oleg is gone... bandits." he turns to the side.. not wanting to be completely seen
|
|
"I am your humble host, Hannis Drelev! Baron(!) of these savage lands and by writ of the Dragonscale throne..."
"It's an honour to meet your Lordship," Numalar says with a bow. "Numalar Auritonius, at your service. I too have a charter from the Dragonscale Throne, though I have not received any sort of title for it, alas. Our area of concern is east of here."
Zokon stays silent for a few moments after their words.. " Oleg is gone... bandits." he turns to the side.. not wanting to be completely seen
Numalar nods. "We gave chase to the culprits, of course. Two managed to escape, but one will never go home again."
Numalar blinks. "Your pardon, Banker. I am Numalar Auritonius. My friend Zokon and I have a charter from the Dragonscale Throne, and among other things we have a duty to strive against banditry in the region known as the Greenbelt. We're a little west of that area now, but we have an errand. But we are in particular after a bandit leader who calls himself the 'Stag Lord.' The men who killed Oleg were his."
Durgan's face darkens. "So I am too late for Oleg. But not for others. The Stag Lord will pay."
He is quiet for a minute, then asks Numalar, "Might I see this charter? If I were to support you in your efforts, it would be in my interest to know what you are contractually bound to do."
The dwarf reads it over, making a few observations.
"Short and to the point. Would be ten times longer in Taldor, you know. Oleg's trading post as the point of reference, distances specified, good, good. Some leeway in 'should' rather than 'must' if we encounter trivially unlawful behavior. Seal looks genuine. Looks good to me."
Now this was a place of proper civilization! Illthir thought to herself as she inhaled the somewhat repulsive aroma of the camp fort. Well, close-ish at least. She flashed a beaming smile at the Baron(!) and his crew. Yep, it looked like she might be able to ply her trade here just a little bit.
"Mhm he looks better then that old farmer of yours doesn't he?" Illthir whispers to Alia, then giggles and tries to escape the reach of the prude-ish elf (or her fierce guardian).
...
The Skald moves over to the small gathering discussing the banditry and their fate. A considerably more solemn conversation by the looks of it. "Illthir Winlowe - I'll be chronicling the endeavour." she introduces herself. "Hopefully it won't be a long story, if you catch my drift yeah. The bandits have made things unsafe for far too long already."
"Oleg..." Scarlet turns somber. "Slain by bandits. From the Stag Lord. They wanted to send a message. We heard 'em, and we're going to clear them out. But first thing's first: we go to Mivon."
"Then we need to do something about the Outpost. The Magistrate is there, but all of the nobles are descending upon it like vultures. Svetlana's stricken with grief, too." She exhales.
"I am your humble host, Hannis Drelev! Baron(!) of these savage lands and by writ of the Dragonscale throne...""It's an honour to meet your Lordship," Numalar says with a bow. "Numalar Auritonius, at your service. I too have a charter from the Dragonscale Throne, though I have not received any sort of title for it, alas. Our area of concern is east of here."
The baron only seems to have eyes for attractive women with some elf blood in them. He only seems to feign interest in anything Numalar has to say nodding and grunting in appropriate places.
Serena smiles coyly at the Baron's attentions. I guess that it's been a long time since any of them have seen a woman. I'll need to be tactful to keep from insulting our hosts, but I'll not sacrifice my values. "Perhaps, mi'lord, but I will accept your invitation to your table."
"Splendid!" The baron produces a magical looking ruby-tipped rod and with a word a palatial tent—a huge pavilion of silk 60 feet across—spings into being. "Terrion, tell the servants we'll be dining in the tent."
"Aye." says the man and then departs to his duty.
Obviously proud of his large tent Drelev invites Serena, Illthir, and Alia in. And if it seems like they aren't going to to take the hint, he grudgingly invites 'the rest' in as well.
Soon enough a banquet of food is set out.
"Alas, our last entertainer left us a few weeks ago."
"So what is it that Mivon can offer you that Drelev cannot? Aside from a bard of course. Haha."
rorek55
Archimeles
Hera the Owl
Igor of Caliphas
Igor of Courtaud
Stäbbi Domovoi
