31st Pharast 4713
Two weeks on the road, through the farmlands of Rostland. It’s still cold at this time of year but the first signs of spring are on their way. The land is turning green. The worst of the snows are over and, despite the persistent drizzle that has followed you since you left Nivatka’s Crossing six days ago, you can feel life returning to the world after the harsh northern winter.
The journey has been uneventful. From Restov you travelled west and south, passing through tiny hamlets and the small town at the crossing of the River Shrike. It was here that Maegar Varn’s men turned south a week previously, marching into the Nomen Heights. Onward you travelled, passing the mountains to the south, finally leaving them behind as you approached the Greenbelt.
Rostland, Brevoy and civilisation recedes into the distance as you near your initial destination – your entry point to the wild lands. A small trading post on the South Rostland Road sits at the northerly edge of the Greenbelt. Run by an old Rostlander named Oleg Leventon, it is the last outpost of Brevic influence before the vast wilderness opens up before you.
The sun is just dipping below the horizon as you approach the trading post. Through the rain, you can just make out the rooftops of a number of structures within the sturdy, fifteen foot, wooden walls. The solid looking gates are firmly shut but a large bell hangs from a rope outside.
Jorquimo is a jovial chap, He tries not to let his heritage (Dhampir) affect him, why should it. He understands peoples retisence around him, but feels that his Charm and good looks should usually sway their opinions.
from conversations we've had so far on our travels, it is understood that he is out here looking to fin exciting places full of historical and Archaeological interest.
Guðrún has not spoken of her origins, or what she hopes to gain by joining this expedition. She is a skilled tracker and hunter and, although she does not seem to know a great deal about the nations of this area, she knows the wilderness. For the past two weeks she has guided the party safely through the predations of the wild.
Guðrún is of fair complexion with vivid red hair that she keeps tied up. She is dressed in simple leathers and animal skins, and around her neck she wears a holy symbol of Desna, and a zoic fetish of a sabre-toothed cat. Those with an understanding of kellid culture would realise this fetish places her origins in the Land of the Mammoth Lords. She is certainly far from home.
At 5'9" she shouldn't be physically intimidating, but there is something a little feral about her. She is canny and attractive, but with a hardened disposition that lends itself to standoffishness. Perhaps she is just taking time to warm to her travelling companions, or perhaps she is taking her time to judge whether they are worth warming to.
When she fights, she does so with a taiaha - a barbaric weapon with a spear point on one end, and a heavy wooden cudgel on the other. The rest of the party will have noticed that she also carries a battle axe, but never uses it in combat. Instead it is wrapped (rather reverentially) in furs and soft cloth.
Rhodeus is a laid back fellow, happy to share his tobacco and a story of misadventure from his past with anyone that will listen. He is enthusiastic in combat with his heavy mace, if not competent. One has to wonder if he was encouraged to go on this trip so as not to be causing a nuicance back home.
Not one to be out in the rain longer than necessary, Rhodeus gives the rope a good yank, hoping to get the attention of someone who can open the gates.
good man Rhody, I hate the rain too.
Where are the gatekeepers ; probably huddled round the fire. Can't blame them really.
A few minutes after Rhodeus rings the bell, a voice calls down from the top of the wall, to the right of the gate, "Who's there? We've got nothing for you, now clear off!"
It's the voice of an older man, in Brevic accented Taldane. Looking up you can make out his burly frame peering over the parapet. He appears to have a crossbow levelled at you.
He has made no secret of the fact that he has worked as a sellsword for most of his adult life and he is on this journey purely for the gold. He seems keen to follow the charter to the word, and keen to avoid doing anything more than he has to unless there is some profit in it. Appearing as he does, he tends to rely on his looks to get what he wants, and if that fails will go for his hammer. He does not have a strong wit and seems more than a little shallow. Wenching and feasting are his favourite past times. When battle is joined he revels in it.
He is much quieter than his exuberant summoner and will often only speak when he is advising Sanglamore against doing something stupid. Rhaegal is calm and always watching his surroundings.
The name's Rhodeus, my good man. My companions and I are tasked to survey the lands to the south by the Swordlords. All I ask is for a nights shelter from the rain. If it helps I've some fine tobacco I don't mind sharing.
Rhodeus holds a pouch up so the man can see it.
Sanglamore looks directly into the mans eyes, trying to position himself so that his Brevoy parade armour is visible."My good man. We are travelling into these lands on official business. We only wish to trade for supplies and perhaps have a warm meal before we press on in the morrow."
Guðrún leans toward Jorquimo and whispers in his ear: "This is a man who is expecting trouble."
Concerned at this welcome, she scans the area to see if anything else presents a danger to the party. She's particularly looking for any other crossbowmen on the walls.
Perception check:
Gudrun cannot make out any other figures along the wall. The corners of the trading post have short towers, on t of which you think you can just make out some kind of siege engine. It looks as if this place may once have been a small fort, although it appears fairly well worn.
"You've been sent by the Swordlords have you? What proof do you have? I don't let people in just because they have tobacco, especially when they have bloody great wild animals following them around."
We have a charter from the swordlords, which I will happily show you as well. It's just not as satisfying as good tobacco
Diplomacy check:
"A charter, is it? Well..." he pauses as if considering something, "I suppose I better see it. The rest of you stand back and I'll come down. Don't try anything funny. I've got half-a-dozen lads back here, ready to knock your heads together."
He disappears from view behind the wall.
Jorquimo leans towards Gudrun, "I agree, but I reckon he's worried because he IS the only person up there, and as he rightly says we have arrived with a slavering beast, oh and his cat. Let me see if I can see if he's lying"
Perception:
Perception:
Sense Motive:
Perception:
Sense Motive:
Sanglamore grins at Jorquimo, "Your mother called me a beast once during one of our more energetic sessions. No one drools over her though. It was one of those lays where you pretend you are with someone else."
Perception: 1D20-1
Sense Motive: 1d20-1
Rhaegal looks at Sanglamore and Jorquimo, "Quiet" he says sharply
Perception: 1d20+4
Sense Motive: 1d20+4
"My dear chap - if you are going to try and banter with me, you should try and do some research. My mother died in childbirth, therefore rendering your attempt to rile me as woeful as best. But I do applaud the effort.
Anyway, where has the gatekeeper got to, Rhody looks like he needs a smoke, and I think I have a newt swimming around in my boots."
"I thought she smelt a little bit off."
Good riposte - but you have just confessed to necrophilia, was that intentional?, I do hope Rhody wasn't listening.....!
Jorquimo hears a brief conversation between a man and a woman behind the wall. She seems exasperated, but you can't make out any specific words.
You all (including Jorquimo if he takes 10) are certain that he doesn't have a half dozen lads back there. He's obviously worried and is unconvincing in his bluster.
Rhaegal can make out the scent of two humanoid creatures beyond the walls. They smell of fear beneath the dampness of their mortal flesh.
You hear the link of a heavy wooden bar being drawn back and the door opens, outwards, a fraction. The man's hand reaches out to Rhodeus, "Let me see this charter."
Rhodeus can make out a bearded, worn face beneath a wide brimmed hat. A heavy leather overcoat keeps the rain off him as he reaches out for the papers. His crossbow is held awkwardly in his other hand.
"I thought she smelt a little bit off."
Good riposte - but you have just confessed to necrophilia, was that intentional?, I do hope Rhody wasn't listening.....!
Guðrún steps between the pair, and glares at them both disapprovingly. It's obvious she wants to say something (particularly to Sanglamore) but instead chooses to focus on Rhodeus and the man at the gate.
"Calm down Gudrun, i'm only joshing with him. I'm not intending to 'take it outside'. Once Rhody has done the 'look here's our charter thing' and the scared man with the wobbly crossbow over there has calmed down we can go in, get dry and maybe buy a meal. Tomorrow we can be on our way and hopefully the sun will be shining."
"You exasperate me."
"Indeed comrade, we have a long journey before us and a bit of banter will help pass the days and weeks to come."
Sanglamore turns to Jorquimo"My purse is feeling a bit light at the moment. If we find an Inn in there can you sub me a little gold? I have a real thirst on"
"Days and weeks...." she shakes her head.
"I'm sure I can stand you A beer"
There you go my good man, I believe you'll find that everything is in order and we can come in out of this rain.
Rhodeus holds the charter out for inspection, and glances back at his companions, wondering just what he's getting himself into here
"Let me see." He takes the charter and looks it over, glancing up frequently at Rhaegal. "...right of exploration and travel...strive against banditry...execution by sword or rope...the Dragonscale Throne. Well, I suppose this is in order. You don't look much like bandits anyway. You better come in. You can sleep in the stables. Is that cat trained? It looks dangerous."
He heaves the door open and allows you inside the trading post. A little behind him, previously out of sight behind the door is a woman in her thirties, maybe. She's wrapped in a heavy cloak to keep the rain off but you can just make out her straw coloured hair beneath her hood.
"Don't mind my husband," she calls out, We're very happy to have you here and there are plenty of beds. Come on into the house and we'll get you something hot to eat." She bustles off towards the main building within the compound.
You can make out a couple of larger buildings, one clearly a stables, the other a large house, and two smaller outhouses within the trading post. There is a wagon to the side of the gate and a number of tables with benches around a firepit further in.
"Thank you," says Guðrún following the woman. "Do you and your husband live here alone?"
"You're very welcome. We do live here alone, yes. It's normally quite quiet, so I apologise for my husband. He could learn something about hospitality. Get inside out of the rain."
She enters the large house at the rear of the compound and hangs her cloak on a hung inside the door. She offers to take Guðrún's cloak, "Get your wet things off and come in by the fire."
"Madam you are too kind to us. Don't berate you husband too harshly, he is wise to be cautious. A fire, and some food would be most welcome."
Appraise
Guðrún will happily hand her cloak over and get close to the fire.
"You have nothing to apologise for. Your husband is wise to be cautious," she continues. "How much trouble have you had from the wild lands?"
"You are both right of course. He is right to question visitors." She glances at the door, through which her husband has not yet walked, and suddenly stops her attempts at hospitality, launching into a desperate plea, "He is too proud to say, but we have had a terrible time of late. Bandits have taken everything from us the last three months. They are terrible men, led by a fiendish woman." She suddenly appears angry, "She threatened my life if we resisted. My poor, sweet Oleg defended me but she took one of his fingers as a warning with her horrible hatchet. He would have fought them but for my sake he stood down. He was so brave. Please help us. Please, please help us."
"Right, so firstly you'll take these 4gp for you kind hospitality. secondly we'll get a good nights sleep, then tomorrow you can tell us everything, from the beginning and we'll see what we can do about thinning out the local bandit population. do you agree chaps and chapesses" he says looking firmly at each of his comrades.
Guðrún spares a glance to the rest of the party, and then says: "What more can you tell us? Who is this woman? Where can we find her? What forces does she command?"
Looking at Jorquimo: "I would prefer to discover the facts before I sleep. It will give us more time to hunt tomorrow."
"As you wish Gudrun. I'll be over here next to the fire listening and drying out. But I think given the weather, we can delay the actual 'hunt' until daybreak, is that ok?"
He leans next to the fire, removes a boot and pours out the contents.A small newt dashes for the door.
"Thank you, thank you, so much," she says, through sobs, I thought we were lost. We've hardly made anything this month and they'll be here for it tomorrow, oh thank you." She reaches out and clutches Guðrún's hands in thanks and looks her square in the eye. "You've saved us."
Just then, the door opens again and her husband Oleg hurries in. "Making yourselves at home, I see," he says as he looks at you gathered round the hearth. Then he sees his wife clutching at Guðrún's hands, and glances around the room. "Svetlana, what is going on here? What have you told these people? I hope you re not troubling them with our small problems"
Rhodeus joins Jorquimo at the fire and offers tobacco around.
"It sounds to me that your troubles are the very reason we were sent out here by the Swordlords. You must introduce us to these people tomorrow and we shall have a 'chat' with them."
"Thank you for the nights lodgings Jorquimo, the next night shall be on me."
"Svetlana, how many of these Bandits usually come round to collect what I assume they call 'protection' money? Do they usually arrive at a given time?"
turning to Gudrun...
"Do you think it's worth setting up some traps? I very much doubt it's going to be worth 'talking' to these people.
I say we try and take one alive, get the location of this Woman who took Oleg's finger from him/her and then go mop them up. But then that might be because I am very tired and slightly delerious."
"In this weather it will not be difficult to track back to their camp. So I don't think we need to take any of them alive necessarily."
Turning to the Levertons: "I presume the bandits coming tomorrow will not be expecting any trouble or resistance? How many will we be dealing with?"