Somewhere in the Feralwood...
The sylph slipped daintily into Oleg's Trading post. She was carrying a handwritten sign under her left arm. A small sack of coins was clutched in her right hand. She had become accustomed to being stared at, because of her attractiveness, and the simple fact that her kind had not been seen often in the area.
She asked for Oleg. After a few minutes of discussion, she headed to the tack board and took her note, posting it up for all to see.
Brave Explorers Needed. Missing Brigand's Brigade Whereabouts Sought. Interested Applicants Speak With Teena. Payment For Services In Gold.
After stepping back and admiring the work, she purchased a warm beverage and found a comfortable looking spot, clearly intending to wait until she receives a response.
Sometime later, a half-elf comes strolling down the road using a well-made quarterstaff as a walking stick and dressed in green vestments decorated with a forest motif. Although apparently absorbed in his own thoughts at the moment, it's clear that his eyes and ears miss very little. Despite the distinctive features of his ancestry, he does not seem to concern himself with appearances judging by the small specks of dirt on his clothing and hands.
Stopping outside Oleg's Trading Post to stretch, his gaze comes across the note posted on the board and he appears intrigued by the manner he strokes his chin in thought. A moment later, he walks in and asks the first person he meets, "Hail, could you direct me to someone named Teena?"
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Xerexis makes his daily visit to Oleg's trading post, to see if the cork board has any leads in his investigation. He expects failure as the trail has grown quite cold recently, until he glances at the newest parchment posted.
Brigands Brigade sought. Contact Teena
Xerexis looks around the post, he sees many regulars and a few people who appear to be iut of their element. Knowing that attractive plane touched ladies normally don't lounge around a place like this Xeris comes to tje conckusion thst this is Teena, and proceeds to walk toward her.
"Is it you that seeks the Brigands Brigade?"
"Greetings, travelers. I am indeed Teena. By my calculations, you saw the note posted outside?". As the sylph speaks, a breeze seems to follow her, blowing her hair about ever so slightly.
Assuming the others confirm, she quickly begins a recitation of the facts. "As the note says, I'm looking for the Brigand's Brigade. They were to report in after their exploration a few weeks ago and there has been no word from them to date. Their last known location was somewhere in the northern region of the Greenbelt, along the Tuskwater River. I had friends in that team, so I'm going to go find them. I'm fairly capable, but traipsing around an unknown forest sounds like a struggle for me. That's why I need a group. And yes, there's payment, all I have is 500 gold, but I'm sure there are plenty undiscovered treasures out there in that forest waiting to be discovered."
He quietly scrutinizes both the Elf and Sylph before speaking, "Who are the ones you are seeking, Miss Teena? And what are the terms of this arrangement? Do you have any silent partners?" The Half-Elf did little to hide his initial skepticism.
"I am seeking the return of the entire squad, assuming they are still alive. The terms are simple: help me find out what happened to the group. If they are alive, help me find them. If they aren't alive, help me find out what happened, if possible. And, I do not have a silent partner. But, if I did, and told you, I don't suppose they'd be considered silent anymore, would they? If you are worried about me not holding up my end of the bargain, I'd happily allow one of you, upon accepting the mission, to carry the sack containing the 500 gold."
"My concern lies not with the gold you are offering, but rather your intentions." He replies matter-of-factly, "Although I would expect an equal distribution of whatever valuables are found."
"As it happens, your goal mirrors one of my own, so I'm willing to join you on this endeavor, as long as the groups dealing aren't detrimental to my own or my beliefs."
"An equal distribution would, of course, be acceptable. I'm not one to drive a difficult bargain. I just want to see the group found. That is my main goal in this endeavor. And if we ever run up against one of your core beliefs, we can deal with that then. If our paths would have to diverge at that point, I'd understand completely.". She reaches out an extended hand. "So, are you officially in?"
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Xerexis cracks a smile exposing a rose gold tooth, he moves with deft grace before giving both the druid and air head some insight to his motives.
"I just need some gold to pay off an old debt, so my motives for assisting you are purely mercenary. But, I can't help but wonder what makes you want to find the Brigand's Brigade so bad? 500 gold pieces is damn near a lifetime of wages for some of the folk around here."
With that question the white haired Xerexis jumps between the Druid and Teena and clasps the sylphs hand in token of acceptance to her terms.
"Who can put a price tag on friendship, is what I would ask in response. Thankfully, I'm at a place and time that I can try to hire hearty individuals such as yourselves to help me in my task. And I thank you both very much for your acceptance."
Oleg's Trading Post is located within an old wooden fort along the old Kor Empire road at the eastern border of Syradel. It is run by Oleg and his wife Svetlana.
The Post is built within the wooden palisade walls of an old fort, abandoned by the Kor Empire when it withdrew from the region twenty years ago. Later, Oleg and Svetlana took over the building and established the site as a Trading Post at the edge of the wilderness, catering to woodsman, hunters, and those brave enough to still travel the area.
When Lord Bronin arrived in the Greenbelt, Oleg's Trading Post was the first place he stopped. There he learned that the area was suffering constant harassment from the Stag Lord's Bandits. Bronin and his companions found their first victory against the Stag Lord at the Battle of Oleg's, a tale which Oleg never tires in hearing or retelling to passing travelers. It is a tale that grows in its myth with each hearing.
Bronin, astride his noble steed Fireseeds, confronted the Bandits with his First Lords at his side - the brave Sir Gregory of Aradhel, wise Brother Simon, the alchemist known as the Professor, and the giant Myhm, often called "The Ent". With is gleaming sword in hand, Lord Bronin charged in to the center of 20 bandits. Sir Gregory charged in with his lance. Brother Simon called upon the power of the Archpaladin to guide their attacks and protect them from harm. The Ent simply walked up and punched out the nearest horse with a mighty fist.
hirty year more years ago, he'd get caught everytime he tried to follow his father into the woods for the daily hunt. After a few hundred yards of inelegantly pawing through the tall blades of grass, leaving a horrendous track behind, Mhym would be told, "Go home boy!". And although his father was a great hunter that could track a hawk on a cloudy day, Myhm's skill of observation were far less refined. The learned stalking strategy and procedure, which had not improved much since childhood, was in five steps - poke head out from behind object, look around, pull head back in, wait until curious again, repeat until satisfied.
Clued in by Oleg, he had been watching Teena in the same manner from edge of the stables since she's arrived at the outpost. HMMM...
Now there was three of them talking about the bandids bigand.
::another peek::
::pull back::
HM.
His eyes narrow as a keen nugget of determination reaches cognition - he'd wait until they left, then follow. For now, he waits.
When a passerby walked by an either notices or greets him behind the barn, Myhm would straighten up like a tree and look at the clouds.
"I believe we are all now in accord." He says with a decisive nod, his back to the stables, "Unless you plan on recruiting more individuals, we should hear your plan, if you have one. If it's just searching the area, perhaps we should see if there are any current maps which may lead us to likely points of investigation. I am new to the area, so I'm not as well acquainted as I would like to be."
"Unfortunately, Troxell, my wilderness exploration skills are fairly nonexistent. That is part of the reason I needed assistance and a well prepared group. A map would be a good idea, methinks."
Troxell takes a moment to think over what he's learned about the northern region of the Greenbelt in case a likely starting point might jump out at him.
Troxell notices that Xerexis is sizing him up, but he's not really sure why. He also notices that Xerexis is not like any elf he's ever met before. His accent and coloring are unusual, as is the way he carries himself.
Troxell realizes that Xerexis is subtly scrutinizing him and asks, "Where are you from? Your appearance is different than the other Elves that I know."
"How about sylphs," Teena inquires, wondering about the background that Xerexis was raised in.
"We will have plenty of time to become well acquainted soon enough. Let me see if this place has any available maps." Troxell then looks for a merchant or shopkeeper in the outpost. "If you don't have the proper gear for wilderness survival, I suggest you buy it now." He adds to the group.
The common area of Oleg's consists of a few benches in the shade of a wooden awning that stretches from the main structure, which contains the trading post, a couple private rooms, plus Oleg and Svetlana's personal quarters. Across the way from the main building is a structure that was once a barracks when this site was a functioning fort, but is now a large open room for those looking for a place to sleep the night.
Troxell finds Oleg leaning against the door to the trading post, and when he asks about maps, the stoic man nods. "Just so happens I got myself a couple copies from Jubilost Narthropple's latest expedition, complete with notes added by the Baron hiself. 100 gold to buy, 1 gold to view for 10 minutes. Where are yer headed?"
Oleg rubs his nose and darts a glance over Troxell's shoulder across the yard towards the stables. It's a quick glance that surely would have been lost to someone less perceptive, but Troxell takes notice. Looking back he notices a very large man pulling his head back around the corner, though his large chest still remains visible in profile.
"I'll pay the gold for a peek first before I...wait, is that?" Troxell's attention is pulled away by the sight of the large man behind the stables and he seems to forget Oleg and his map completely as he walks swiftly over.
"Auchs! Auchs, is that you?" He calls to the large figure.
Teena turns and attempts to spot whatever caught the two men's attention. "Do you recognize him," she whispers to Troxell.
Having caught Troxells attention, Myhm's initial reaction was to seek an exit, either the too small barrel or running behind another building. Then at the mention of his brother’s nickname, he pauses and the cogs start turning. His protective instincts and knowledge of men draws a conclusion-
He steps out to face Troxell. Myhm is human, stands over seven feet tall; wearing skins and furs around exposed haired-chest and hearty arms; his skin is the color of earth, like a natural camouflage; his proportions perceptibly off, with squatter legs, narrower shoulders and a slight hunch; his face is block-like, common and brutish, lackluster eyes something like a skittish feral animal; a sheathed ax, the size of a honing wheel, hangs low behind his knees. His stance expresses presence and confrontation.
"Is that an ogre or part human," Teena whispers to the others.
"He resembles someone I'm looking for." Troxell answers Teena's first question as he continues to move towards the human giant.
"Hail!" Troxell calls out to Myhm, "I mean you no harm, I merely mistook you for someone else." The half-elf takes a moment to let the man's appearance sink it, "I don't suppose you're looking for work?"
"I'm Myhm", he manages to mumble out. "Brue's my brother, Auchs's not his name."
He doesn't move forward but continues, "Why you want Brue?"
-Posted with Wayfinder
"My name is Troxell. Your brother was assisting me in understanding the forest, but he's disappeared. I'm trying to find him." He explains simply, "Have you seen him recently?"
"Little gnome Bixin says he's following friend Bigand Dovan - two weeks", Myhm let's his guard down and takes one step forward, he looks northward, "Brue not safe alone, I go find him now. Red-hair lord says I can go."
-Posted with Wayfinder
The discussion between Troxell and Myhm has not gone unnoticed. Oleg, has followed the half-elf across the yard. "Any trouble Lord Myhm?" He asks with a look of concern.
Another group has also taken interest - five Wildlanders dressed in leather and chain. Like most of their people they carry an assortment of weapons. One of them, a big man with green tattoos on the side of his face, calls out.
"Lord Myhm? As in the Legendary Ent of The Greebelt you been tellin everyone about? Looks to me like an ogre got to the farmer's daughter." His companions all chuckle, and one does an unflattering impression of an ogre while humping one of Oleg's bargirls.
"Perhaps you should show some respect." Trowell says to the loud-mouth, showing very little patience for human mockery.
"Troxell, we should conclude our talk of business and leave those other louts to it," Teena suggests to him.
Of course, if he decides to scrap, it would let me know if he can truly handle himself or not!
A lifetime of ridicule and abuse doesn't desolve easily, Myhm was used to such treatment from men and masters. The 'Lord' title was no more than 'Hey You' to him. His reaction may surprise those unfamiliar, as his eyes first dart almost nervously to the wild men, and then to any place which might diminish his presence and the resulting heckle.
-Posted with Wayfinder
The wildlander scowls at Troxell. "Why don't you make me, ears? Cause it looks like the big fool's a big coward and Oleg's a big liar."
Troxell's eyes narrow, but he steps back, "It's not worth the effort." He then turns to his new companions, "Yes, let's finish our business elsewhere."
Teena holds for a second, waiting for Oleg's response before deciding her action.
"Heh. Thought so." The big man turns back to his companions with a smirk. "Get off the lass Conn Conan, she ain't yer cousin." He barks at the one accosting the bargirl.
"I thought she were Ninean's ma." The man laughs, but releases her.
One of the others, a beardless man with pale hair, slams a hand on the table and points a warning finger at Conn Conan, "Hey! I warned you not to talk about her like that!" Turning to the big man, he adds, "Madugh, I swear I'm gonna kill the little bastard he keeps it up."
The big man, Madugh, chuckles and calls for Oleg to bring another round of drinks. For a moment Oleg gives Myhm a stern look, then heads back into the Post shaking his head.
Myhm was turning away with Troxell, when the wildermen scoffed that 'Oleg's a big liar'. He wasn't used to defending himself against cruelty, though protecting others he cared for was instinctive. Things were either Good or Bad in Myhm's world, with equal implication; puppies and food - Good, fire and evil men - Bad. 'Liar' fell on the Bad; and Myhm was quite certain that Oleg was not Bad. Unlike the pause of thought moments ago, he continues the turn to a full circle to face the men again.
"Oleg not liar.", he says resolutely to the leader. As surely as the leader would say something back, or not at all, Myhm would repeat again with a firm edge and a step forward. "OLEG NOT LIAR!"
The half elf, while suspicious keeps his wits about him. Good, good. Now this is an interesting turn with the big one!
"Lord Myhm, do you like people who are bad to your friends," Teena asks, prodding the large human to see what he might be capable of him. "He says bad things about Oleg. Oleg is your friend, right?" She realized Myhm wasn't exactly a negotiator....did he have other qualities that she might find useful?